The room did not just quiet; it dissolved into a vacuum of suspended breath. Across the gleaming marble floor, a dozen cream-colored spheres had rolled like scattered teeth, but no one was looking at them anymore. All eyes were locked on Grace’s thumb, which had just pried open the tiny, invisible seam of the largest pearl.

The bridal suite instantly transformed into a chaotic rain forest.

Water poured from the ceiling diffusers, soaking Grace’s designer wedding gown until the heavy white satin became as heavy as lead, dragging her down. The makeup smudged across her face in black streaks, making her look like a warrior painted for battle.

"Get them! Get them both!" Marcus screamed, blood streaming from his cut cheek down into his wrinkled collar, ruining his bespoke shirt. He shoved Daniel aside, his ancient eyes blazing with murderous intent. "The girl swallowed the ledger numbers! Cut her open if you have to, but get that data!"

The second bodyguard drew a small, wicked-looking switchblade from his inner pocket, the steel gleaming dulled silver under the flashing red emergency strobe lights.

Evelyn moved with a speed that defied her age. She grabbed a heavy brass candelabra from the vanity table—the one meant for romantic ambiance—and swung it with both hands like a baseball bat, catching the oncoming guard squarely across the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch. The man collapsed into the puddles on the marble floor, unconscious.

Daniel backed away toward the locked balcony doors, his face pale as death, shaking his head. "You’re both insane! You’re all going to prison for the rest of your lives!"

"Shut up, Daniel," Grace said coldly, advancing on him through the ankle-deep water. She didn't look like a heartbroken bride anymore; she looked like an executioner.

Before Daniel could scream for help, Grace grabbed a bottle of warm, unopened champagne from the catering cart, smashed it against the edge of the marble sink, and pointed the jagged, foaming glass neck right at his chest.

"Open the balcony door," Grace commanded.

"Grace, please—we’re engaged—"

"Open it!"

With trembling fingers, Daniel fumbled with the heavy glass latch and shoved the balcony doors open. The stormy city wind howled into the room, driving sheets of rain and freezing air across the ruined suite.

Down below, flashing blue and red lights illuminated the street. Four police cruisers and an FBI tactical van were already swarming the hotel entrance, their sirens wailing into the night sky.

Marcus Vance, realizing the game was over, turned toward the hallway exit, but the heavy fire doors were completely sealed shut. He spun around, wheezing for breath, clutching his chest as his heart hammered against his ribs.

"You think the police will save you?" Marcus coughed, spitting blood onto the wet floor. "The Vance Group owns this city. We own the judges. We own the wardens."

"You used to," a cool, synthesized voice echoed from the doorway.

Everyone froze.

Standing in the flooded doorway, flanked by four federal agents in heavy tactical gear and ballistic vests, was a woman in a sharp charcoal trench coat. She had silver-streaked hair tied back in a tight bun, and eyes that matched Evelyn's exact shade of slate.