Dominic pulled back from Lauren Pike just enough to let the stage lights catch the flush on his throat, smiling that slow, proprietary grin that had once made Marin believe they were building an empire together. He turned back to the microphone, his arm still resting loosely against Lauren’s silver-draped hip, completely unbothered by the four hundred pairs of eyes fixed on the front table.

Marin pushed the heavy mahogany door open and stepped inside. The apartment was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling glass walls overlooking the Hudson River, minimalist Italian leather furniture, and a massive abstract painting that cost more than most people’s houses.

It was also completely silent.

She didn't turn on the lights. She let the pale moonlight flood through the glass, illuminating her path as she walked down the long hallway toward the master bedroom.

From behind the closed double doors of the master suite, muffled sounds drifted out—a woman’s soft laugh, followed by Dominic’s exhausted, frantic murmur.

“...she’s insane, Lauren. She actually pulled the entire reserve. Thirty million. Gone in a single second. The accounts are locked, the board is in revolt, and Vanguard just pulled out.”

“Don’t worry, Dom,” Lauren’s voice replied, smooth and dripping with artificial reassurance. “You still have the Cayman holding company. Once we liquidate the European patents next week, we can leave this whole mess behind. Who needs Marin anyway? She’s cold. She was always just an ATM with a wedding ring.”

Marin’s hand rested on the brass door handle.

She didn't hesitate. She threw the door open wide.

The recessed ceiling lights clicked on automatically via motion sensors, flooding the bedroom with brilliant white illumination.

Dominic and Lauren froze in the center of the oversized king-size bed. Lauren shrieked, clutching the silk duvet to her chest, her face pale and stripped of its professional makeup. Dominic bolted upright, scrambling backward until his spine hit the padded headboard, his eyes wide with sheer terror.

“M-Marin?” Dominic stammered, scrambling to grab a silk robe from the floor. “How—how did you get in here? This is private property—!”

“Private property?” Marin repeated, stepping into the room. Her heels made no sound on the thick wool rug, yet every step felt like an earthquake. She walked over to the bedside table, picked up a crystal decanter of scotch, and poured herself two fingers without looking at either of them.

“This apartment,” Marin continued calmly, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, “was leased using Aurelis Grid corporate funds. Corporate funds which are currently under federal freeze for wire fraud and embezzlement.”

She turned her gaze slowly toward Lauren, who was trembling beneath the duvet.

“And those earrings,” Marin added, her eyes locking onto the emerald drops resting on the bedside table where Lauren had hastily tossed them. “Take them off, Lauren. My grandmother had very specific instructions about who gets to wear her legacy. And scavengers don't qualify.”

Lauren’s face flushed bright red with humiliation and fury. She looked at Dominic, expecting her protector to step in, to shout, to defend her.

Dominic was staring at Marin as if she were a ghost. The charismatic founder, the media darling, the genius innovator—he looked smaller now, reduced to a desperate, cornered boy wearing pajama pants and shivering in the harsh light of reality.

“Marin,” Dominic whispered, his voice cracking. “Please. We can talk about this. We can fix this. It was a mistake. A moment of weakness—!”

“A mistake?” Marin took a slow sip of the scotch, her eyes cold as winter ice. “Dominic, you didn't make a mistake. You made a budget.”