"My husband left me bleeding over dirty dishes to take his mistress to a Manhattan gala, sneering I didn't measure up—unaware I was secretly the owner of the empire hosting him."

Reporters scrambled to broadcast the breaking financial news to every major news outlet in New York. The senior board members of Apex Development swarmed Julian like a pack of wolves, shouting curses at him, demanding to know why he had hidden his marriage to the Chairman of the very firm that held their debt.

"You idiot!" the primary shareholder roared, grabbing Julian by his lapels. "You had the Chairman of Vance Trust in your house, and you drove her away for a PR director?!"

Victoria Sterling backed away from the group, attempting to slip quietly into the crowd toward the exits.

"Miss Sterling," Marcus's voice echoed through the house speakers.

Victoria froze in her tracks, turning around slowly, her wine-red gown looking suddenly garish under the bright stage lights.

Marcus held up a second manila folder. "As of eight o'clock tonight, a forensic audit revealed that you have diverted three hundred and forty thousand dollars of Apex corporate funds into private personal accounts for personal wardrobe and travel expenses. Federal marshals are waiting for you in the lobby."

Victoria let out a high-pitched, terrified shriek as two uniformed officers stepped through the ballroom doors, placing heavy steel handcuffs around her manicured wrists, dragging her out toward the squad cars as news cameras flashed continuously.

Evelyn dropped to her knees on the marble floor, weeping hysterically, her gold gown crumpled around her like trash. "Clara! Spare us! We're your family! I brought you into my home!"

I walked down from the stage, flanked by Marcus and my security detail. I stopped three feet away from where Evelyn lay weeping on the floor.

"You didn't bring me into your home, Evelyn," I said, looking down at her with cold, unbothered disgust. "You lived in my home. The penthouse on 5th Avenue was purchased through a Vance holding company. The car you drove here tonight belongs to Sterling Investment."

I looked at Marcus. "Issue an immediate eviction notice on the 5th Avenue penthouse. They have until eight o'clock tomorrow morning to clear their personal belongings."

"It will be done, Madam Chairman," Marcus bowed.

Julian pulled himself free from the shareholders, dropping flat onto his knees beside his mother, sliding across the marble floor to grab the hem of my midnight-black gown. His face was ruined by blood, sweat, and tears, his expensive tuxedo rumpled, his dignity completely shattered.

"Clara... please..." Julian sobbed, pressing his forehead against my leather shoe. "I was blind! I was stupid! Victoria meant nothing to me! I love you, Clara! You're my wife! Please... give me a second chance! We can rebuild this together!"

I slowly stepped back, pulling the hem of my dress out of his pathetic grip.

I reached up to my wrist, unclasped the platinum watch he was wearing—the watch I had bought him eight years ago—and held it in my palm.

"You told me tonight that I lived above a print shop, wore thrift-store clothes, and had nothing before you," I said softly, every word dropping like a soft hammer onto his broken soul. "The truth is, Julian... I gave you an empire because I thought you were a man worth loving. But you were just a boy playing dress-up with my money."