Grant’s voice finally cracked through the freezing Chicago air, losing its pristine corporate veneer. He took two sharp steps forward, trying to insert his physical presence between Claire and Dominic.

Grant Mercer’s private town car came to a screeching, violent halt as three massive black SUVs slammed to a stop right in front of it, boxing it in against the chain-link security fence. Red and blue warning lights flashed silently against the falling snow from hidden tactical vehicles parked just beyond the gate.

"What is this?! Move this car!" the driver of the town car yelled, panicking as he threw the vehicle into reverse, only to find another SUV blocking his rear.

In the back seat, Grant’s face turned the color of ash. He pushed the door open and stumbled out into the freezing wind, Lauren clinging desperately to his arm.

"What do you want?!" Grant screamed into the swirling snow, shielding his eyes from the blinding high-beams of Dominic's convoy. "Who is this?! This is federal harassment! I demand to speak to port authorities!"

The doors of the lead Maybach swung open.

Dominic Vale stepped out first, adjusting his dark wool coat against the wind, his expression as cold and unyielding as the concrete beneath his boots.

And right behind him, stepping out into the biting Chicago air with her chin held high and her charcoal coat buttoned tight, was Claire.

Grant froze. His jaw dropped so low he looked like a marionette with cut strings.

"C-Claire?" Grant stammered, pointing a shaking finger at her. "What... what are you doing with him?! You set me up! You and this... this criminal!"

"I didn't set you up, Grant," Claire said, her voice cutting cleanly through the howling wind. She walked forward until she was standing just a few feet away from him, her eyes burning with an intense, quiet fury. "You set yourself up the moment you decided that sick children were just a funding source for your luxury lifestyle."

Lauren shrank back against the car, her face tear-streaked and hysterical. "Grant! Make them stop! Tell them to let us go!"

"Shut up, Lauren!" Grant snarled, his mask of civilized charm completely shattered, revealing the desperate, pathetic scam artist underneath. He turned back to Dominic, his voice cracking with sheer terror. "Vale! You can't do this! This is a corporate dispute! Name your price! Name any amount! I have millions offshore—I'll sign it all over to you right now! Just let us get on that plane!"

Dominic stopped a foot away from Grant. He didn't yell. He didn't threaten. He just looked down at the man who had tormented the woman he loved.

"Money, Grant?" Dominic asked quietly. "You think everything in this world can be bought and sold? You stole from children, you humiliated the only good thing in your life, and you thought you could walk away scot-free."

Dominic raised his hand and snapped his fingers twice.

From the shadows of the nearby hangar, two federal agents in dark tactical gear stepped forward—not corrupt lackions, but actual senior investigators from the Department of Justice's elite financial crimes unit, flanked by local police inspectors.

"Grant Mercer," the lead federal agent announced, pulling out a pair of steel handcuffs and stepping forward. "You are under arrest for wire fraud, embezzlement of charitable funds, racketeering, and international tax evasion. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"No! No, wait! You can't do this! Do you know who I am?!" Grant shrieked, thrashing wildly as the heavy steel cuffs snapped around his wrists with a definitive, metallic click.

"Oh, we know exactly who you are, Mr. Mercer," Viktor said coldly, stepping up to push Grant toward the waiting police cruiser. "And trust me, the federal penitentiary is going to love your corporate expertise."

As Grant was shoved into the back of the squad car, screaming obscenities into the night, Lauren broke down completely, sliding down the side of the town car into the slush, sobbing inconsolably as her designer luggage was tossed carelessly into the snow.

Claire stood watching the red taillights of the police cruiser fade into the snowy distance.