Chapter 2

The flight across the Atlantic was a blur of fury and memory. Eleanor stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, but she didn' t see them. She saw Sarah as a little girl, with scraped knees and a brilliant smile, following her around the first makeshift Vance Tech office. She saw the pride on her daughter' s face at her college graduation, the hope in her eyes on her wedding day.

The Vances were not just a family; they were a dynasty built on Eleanor' s sweat, genius, and sheer force of will. She had clawed her way to the top of a male-dominated industry, and her legacy was meant to be her daughter' s birthright. She had groomed Sarah, taught her everything about the business, about strength, about honor.

How had she been so blind? She had welcomed Mark into the family, impressed by his ambition and intellect. She thought his humble origins would keep him grounded, a perfect complement to Sarah' s compassionate nature. She had trusted him. She had handed him the sword that he was now using to gut her family.

Mr. Henderson handed her a tablet, his expression grim. "Ma' am, I have more footage from the event. It' s... difficult to watch."

Eleanor took it, her jaw tight. The new video was from a different angle, raw and unfiltered. It showed the moments leading up to Sarah' s expulsion.

Sarah was standing in the aisle, looking stunned. Mark was on the stage, having just made his announcement. He then walked to the edge of the stage, leaned down, and spoke to her, his voice a venomous whisper that the phone' s microphone barely caught.

"You' re nothing, Sarah. You were always nothing."

He then looked up at the security guards. "Get this imposter out of my sight."

When Sarah tried to protest, he didn' t hesitate. He reached down and slapped her, a sharp, cracking sound that echoed in the auditorium. Lily and Jessica watched from the stage, their faces alight with undisguised pleasure.

As the guards grabbed Sarah, her thin dress ripped, exposing her bare back. Eleanor zoomed in on the image, a strangled cry catching in her throat. Across Sarah' s skin were faint, but visible, red welts and the ghost of older, fading bruises. This wasn' t the first time he had hurt her.

The guards dragged her away, her heels scraping against the polished floor, her cries for her mother lost in the murmurs of the shocked crowd. The tablet screen then filled with scrolling comments from the livestream' s chat.

"OMG, did you see that? Total meltdown."

"So she' s not a real Vance? What a gold-digger."

"Mark Johnson is a saint for dealing with that psycho."

"Her own mother isn' t even there for her. Tells you everything you need to know."

Eleanor felt a pain so sharp it was physical, a twisting in her gut that was worse than any wound. They hadn't just taken her company. They had systematically, cruelly, and publicly destroyed her daughter. They had abused her, isolated her, and then painted her as a liar and a madwoman in front of the entire world.

A profound confusion warred with her rage. How could Sarah have hidden this? Why didn't she call? The daughter she knew was strong, proud. The woman in that video was a broken shell, terrorized and tormented into submission. What had Mark done to her behind closed doors? What kind of hell had her child been living in while she was sipping champagne on the other side of the world?

The guilt was a heavy shroud, but the fury was a fire that burned it away. This was not the time for regret. It was the time for retribution.

"Mr. Henderson," she said, her voice devoid of all warmth.

"Yes, ma.am?"

"When we land, there will be no going home. We go directly to headquarters."

She looked down at the image of her daughter' s tear-stained face.

"I' m coming, Sarah," she whispered to the cold screen. "Mommy' s coming."