The teapot hit the marble floor without breaking, but the maid’s scream split my dining room apart. By the time I looked from the burn spreading across Elena’s arm to the woman wearing my engagement ring, I already knew Camille had just shown me exactly who she was—and she had done it in front of everyone.

The knock on the door came at six o'clock the following evening.

I was sitting in the estate's library, reading a rare edition of Dante’s Inferno, when Marco ushered Victor Vance into the room.

The silver-haired man looked like he had aged ten years in forty-eight hours. His shoulders were slumped, his posture broken, and his hands shook as he leaned heavily on his silver cane.

"Gabriel," Victor rasped, his voice barely audible.

"Sit down, Victor," I said, closing my book and pointing to the leather sofa across from me.

Victor sank into the cushions, placing a thick leather folder on the coffee table between us—the same folder Clara Thorne had delivered to his house that morning.

"Is it true?" Victor asked, his voice cracking with emotion. "Did Julian really steal forty million from our family company? Did he really launder money for French criminals?"

"Every word in that file is backed by bank records, wire transfers, and encrypted communications, Victor," I replied calmly. "Your son isn't just reckless; he’s a criminal who was willing to destroy your life's work to save himself from his gambling debts."

Victor covered his face with his trembling hands, letting out a long, shuddering breath. "My God... I built the Vance Group for forty years. My daughter is a monster who abuses servants, and my son is a thief who belongs in prison. Where did I go wrong, Gabriel?"

I remained silent, allowing the old man a moment to absorb the crushing weight of his reality.

"What are you going to do?" Victor asked finally, looking up with hollow, defeated eyes. "Are you going to send Julian to prison?"

"That depends on you, Victor," I said, leaning forward. "If Julian retracts every fake story he leaked to the press by midnight tonight, resigns from the Vance Group immediately, and surrenders his voting shares to you, I will allow him to flee to Europe without pressing federal charges."

Victor blinked in shock. "You... you would spare him from prison?"

"I am doing it out of respect for you, Victor," I explained. "You are an honorable man who was betrayed by his own children. But hear me clearly: if Julian ever steps foot back in North America, or if Camille ever approaches anyone associated with my estate again, I will release these documents to the Department of Justice, and both of your children will spend the rest of their lives behind bars."

Victor stood up, bowing his head deeply. "Thank you, Gabriel. You have shown my family far more mercy than we deserved."

By ten o'clock that night, Julian Vance issued a full public retraction of all allegations against the Moretti Group, citing "unverified misinformation." An hour later, his resignation from Vance European Holdings was announced, and by midnight, he was on a private jet to Zurich, effectively banished from America forever.