"YOU CALLED ME TRASH IN FRONT OF THE SERVANTS, SO MY BILLIONAIRE FATHER ERASED YOUR ENTIRE LIFE BEFORE SUNRISE"

Two days later, Victor Thorne sat in a high-security holding cell in Paris, awaiting extradition to the United States.

Through special diplomatic arrangements, I was granted a five-minute private audience with him before his transfer.

When I entered the room, Thorne was sitting on a cold wooden bench. His hair was messy, his expensive suit replaced by a plain grey detention uniform. The shadow baron who had manipulated global markets for thirty years looked like nothing more than an old, defeated man.

He looked up at me, his eyes filled with a terrifying mix of hatred and reluctant awe.

"You setup the whole thing," Thorne rasped, his voice hollow. "From the moment Julian was arrested... you laid a breadcrumb trail of fake financial data knowing I would take the bait."

"I knew your psychological profile, Victor," I said calmly, sitting down across from him. "You are an arrogant predator. You can't resist taking advantage of what you perceive as weakness. I simply gave you the illusion of an easy target."

Thorne laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "Julian told me you were a timid housewife who didn't even dare to buy new clothes. He swore you were completely under his thumb."

"Julian saw what his ego wanted to see," I replied. "And you saw what your greed wanted to see. You both made the same fatal mistake: you assumed that because I was quiet, I was harmless."

Thorne leaned back against the concrete wall, closing his eyes. "What happens to the company now?"

"Thorne Capital is gone," I said smoothly. "Its assets now belong to Vance International. Your former employees have been integrated, your accounts have been liquidated, and your name has been erased from every board you once dominated."