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The last syllable of Khloe’s toast hung in the air, tasting of sour champagne and reckless vanity. Six hundred people—investors, philanthropists, board members, and society columnists—held their collective breath. They had come to celebrate the annual Founders’ Gala for Hayes Dynamics, anticipating a pleasant evening of quiet networking and charitable donations. Instead, they had just witnessed a public execution of professional etiquette. / Chapter 18 / 30

Chapter 18 - The Reflection in the GlassLate that night, after the gala concluded and the guests had all departed, Victoria stood alone in her private penthouse office in the Whitmore Tower.

She walked over to the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking out over the sparkling lights of San Francisco.

Her reflection in the glass was sharp, calm, and luminous.

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The heavy mahogany door of the dressing room seemed to close in on us, trapping the suffocating tension inside. Richard’s hands were shaking as he clutched the small, tarnished silver pendant. His knuckles were bone-white.

The heavy mahogany door of the dressing room seemed to close in on us, t...

The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply against the gold-rimmed porcelain of my dinner plate.

The heavy silver fork slipped from my fingers, clattering sharply agains...

The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a muffled, expensive thud.

The heavy mahogany door of the Fairmont Copley suite clicked shut with a...

She remembered the night of the Founders’ Gala—the shock in the room, the sour taste of Khloe’s reckless toast, the betrayal of a marriage she had invested twelve years of her life into building. It felt like a lifetime ago, played out in black and white on a distant television screen.

She had survived the fire. She had cleansed the system. She had reclaimed her destiny.

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