Chapter 6

Arthur slapped Otto's hand away. The humiliation burned through his veins like acid.

"Don't touch me!" Arthur roared. The veins in his neck bulged.

He pointed a trembling finger directly at Vivian's face. The cameras flashed like a strobe light, capturing every drop of spit that flew from his lips.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Arthur screamed. "She's insane! The car crash broke her brain! She's a schizophrenic danger to everyone around her!"

He grabbed Sophia by the shoulders and shoved her forward. Sophia stumbled, her eyes wide with panic.

"This is the true Vance heir!" Arthur yelled to Ethan. "Sophia is educated! She is pure! Eleanor is a defective lunatic!"

The whispers in the ballroom escalated into a roar. Reporters shoved their microphones forward, hungry for the blood in the water.

Ethan's eyes went pitch black. The muscles in his back coiled. He raised his hand, ready to signal the guards to drag Arthur out by his hair.

Vivian reached out. She placed her cool hand flat against Ethan's chest.

Ethan looked down at her. She gave him a single, microscopic shake of her head. Let me.

Vivian stepped forward. Her heels clicked against the marble. Tick. Tick. Tick.

She smiled. It was a terrifying, hollow expression.

"Pure bloodline, Arthur?" Vivian asked. Her voice was a soft, deadly purr that carried through the microphones. "Are you sure about that?"

Arthur puffed out his chest. "Her mother comes from the finest lineage in Boston!"

Vivian let out a short, cold laugh.

She opened her silver clutch. She pulled out a small, matte-black USB drive. She held it up between her fingers.

She snapped her fingers.

J.D. Rivers stepped out from the crowd. "Rivers, have your tech team display the contents of this drive," Vivian ordered smoothly.

He took the USB drive and tapped his earpiece, relaying the command. A discreet operative in a black suit immediately stepped out from the shadows, took the drive, and plugged it directly into the master control console for the ballroom's massive LED screens.

The screens flickered.

A massive document appeared. It was a certified DNA report. Next to it, a series of offshore bank transfer logs scrolled rapidly.

"Sophia's mother, Seraphina, was a stripper in Atlantic City," Vivian said into the microphone. "And those bank records show exactly how much money Arthur Vance embezzled from the family trust fund to pay for Sophia's fake Ivy League pedigree."

The ballroom exploded.

The silence shattered into a million pieces. The wealthy bankers who had been standing near Arthur physically recoiled, backing away as if he were diseased.

Arthur's face drained of all color. He looked like a corpse. He lunged toward the control console, desperate to rip the USB out.

Two Blackwater guards slammed him face-first into the marble floor.

Sophia covered her face with her hands. She screamed, a high, piercing sound of absolute ruin. Her tears mixed with her heavy foundation, turning her face into a muddy, pathetic mess.

A reporter shoved a microphone inches from Arthur's face as he struggled on the floor. "Mr. Vance! Care to comment on the fraud allegations?"

Arthur gasped for air like a dying fish.

Vivian looked down at them. Her heart beat in a slow, steady rhythm. Phase one was complete.

Ethan stepped up behind her. He wrapped his arm around her narrow waist. His grip was possessive, an iron band claiming his territory.

Ethan leaned into the microphone.

"The Thorne Group legal team will be launching a full forensic audit into the Vance Trust," Ethan announced. His voice was the swing of an executioner's axe.

Arthur stopped struggling. He went limp on the floor. He knew he was dead in this city.

The media swarmed the guards, shouting questions.

In the chaos, Vivian felt a shift in the crowd.

She looked at the reflection in the massive champagne tower nearby. The curved glass distorted the image, but she saw it clearly.

Sophia had kicked off her high heels. Barefoot, her face twisted in pure, homicidal rage, she was slipping out the side doors toward the dark, open-air balcony.

Vivian turned her head slightly toward Ethan.

"I need to powder my nose," Vivian murmured.

Without waiting for his reply, she picked up a fresh glass of champagne. She walked with slow, deliberate elegance through the crowd, tracking her prey into the dark.