My thumb traced Arya’s elegant signature across the crisp, expensive paper. It was a prenuptial amendment—not just dividing assets, but formally establishing that in the event of my permanent "incapacitation," all voting shares of Corvino Holdings, our shipping infrastructure, and our real estate empire would immediately transfer to sole trusteeship under Dominic Vance, my cousin, and Arya herself.

"Drop your weapons," I commanded, my voice carrying the bruising weight of absolute authority. "Or the next thing that breaks won't be your weapons—it will be your entire operation."

Julian's face flushed dark red with humiliation and fury. "Kill the crippled bastard! Take him down!"

Three of his mercenaries lunged forward.

I didn't flinch. I planted my cane firmly, shifted my weight onto my braced legs, and delivered a brutal, calculated strike with the heavy metal base of the cane directly into the lead attacker’s knee. The man shrieked, collapsing into a heap.

Beside me, Tessa moved with chilling efficiency, disabling the second mercenary with a swift takedown she must have picked up somewhere far more dangerous than nursing school.

Within seconds, the skirmish was over. Julian’s men were either pinned to the ground or backing away in sheer terror as our security detail secured the perimeter.

Julian stumbled backward, tripping over a steel chain, landing hard on his back.

I walked forward, my steps slow, rhythmic, and terrifyingly deliberate, stopping just inches from his boots. I leaned down, resting my weight on the cane, staring straight into his panicked eyes.

"You thought because I lost the use of my legs for six months, I lost the territory I spent fifteen years bleeding for?" I whispered, my voice dangerously soft.