"Thirty-two weeks pregnant, I watched my husband walk into his family's Christmas party with his mistress wearing a stolen diamond necklace. Then I told him I brought someone too—and his face went pale."

It wasn't a business associate. It wasn't a family friend.

It was Detective Miller of the Greenwich Police Department, flanked by two uniformed officers and a stern-looking federal marshal carrying a thick leather briefcase.

Matthias abandoned Serena mid-sentence, his long strides carrying him across the imported Italian marble floor toward the entrance, his public relations smile plastered back onto his face.

“Detective Miller,” Matthias said loudly, ensuring the nearby board members and investors could hear. “I assume you’re here for the holiday charity contribution? My father’s foundation always welcomes—”

“Not tonight, Matthias,” Miller interrupted, his voice flat, devoid of holiday cheer. He bypassed Matthias entirely, his stern gaze scanning the crowded room until it locked onto Serena standing by the fireplace. He gave her a subtle, respectful nod before turning back to the master of the house.

“We’re here on a matter of national security and corporate fraud,” the federal marshal stated, stepping forward and opening his briefcase. “Matthias Dre, you are being served with a federal warrant for asset seizure, insider trading, and suspected complicity in corporate espionage regarding the Hensley acquisition.”

Gasps erupted across the ballroom. Crystal champagne flutes paused halfway to lips; conversations shattered into stunned silence. Fiona Vale dropped her glass, the delicate crystal exploding against the marble in a sharp, crystalline crash.

Matthias’s face turned the color of ash. “This is a mistake! My father is Marcus Dre, the chairman of this board! You can’t just walk in here—!”

“Your father was informed ten minutes ago in his study,” Detective Miller replied coldly. “And he didn't object.”

Serena walked slowly across the room, her burgundy dress sweeping the floor, her steps measured and calm despite the agonizing ache in her back. She stopped beside Matthias, looking up at him with eyes devoid of the sorrow he expected.

“Did you really think I wouldn't check the corporate ledger after finding that hotel receipt, Matthias?” Serena asked, her voice carrying clearly across the silent hall. “You thought I was just a pregnant hormonal wife at home waiting to be discarded for Sabrina—or Fiona, or whoever your flavor of the month happens to be. But while you were busy playing corporate spy and entertaining mistresses in New Haven, I was handing your offshore paper trail directly to federal investigators.”

Matthias stared at her, horror dawning in his eyes. “You... you set this up?”

“I protected my child,” Serena corrected him softly.

Before Matthias could reply, a sudden, deafening screech echoed through the mansion's integrated audio system. The cheerful holiday carols abruptly cut out, replaced by a harsh, metallic feedback loop.

Then, a distorted, computerized voice hissed through the speakers across every room of the Dre estate: