"Get out of my way!"

Marcus kicked the door of the VIP Suite open. The wood splintered.

He stormed in, followed by Helene and a swarm of security guards. A few reporters had slipped past the cordon, their phones raised, recording everything.

The smell in the room was sour-sex and sweat.

Carter pushed Doria off him. He looked at the door, dazed. The drugs weren't in his system, but the shock was paralyzing him.

"Mr. Roy," Carter stammered, pulling his shirt together. "This isn't-she came onto me-"

Marcus didn't listen. He punched Carter in the jaw.

Carter stumbled back, crashing into a side table.

Doria was rolling on the bed, giggling. "Daddy? Did we win?"

Helene threw a coat over her daughter, sobbing. "Stop filming! Get out! Everyone get out!"

Downstairs, the ballroom was a hive of activity.

Austin stood in the center of the storm, an island of calm. He was directing his security team with hand signals.

Janey stood beside him. She was dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

A board member, a heavy-set man named Sterling, marched up to them.

"Walton! This is a circus! Is this the merger we voted for?"

Austin turned his cold gaze on Sterling. "This is a private moral failure of the Roy family. It has no bearing on the asset valuation of the merger. In fact, given the breach of conduct, we will be renegotiating the terms."

Janey stepped forward. She lowered the tissue.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Sterling," she said, her voice soft. "I had no idea my sister hated me this much. To ruin the family name just to hurt me..."

She looked fragile. Innocent.

The elevator doors pinged open.

Security dragged Carter and a stumbling Doria into the lobby. Marcus followed, looking like a man walking to the gallows.

Doria saw Janey. The fog in her brain cleared for a second, replaced by pure venom.

"You!" Doria shrieked, pointing a shaking finger. "You did this! You gave me that drink!"

The lobby went quiet.

Janey gasped, shrinking behind Austin.

Austin stepped in front of her. He was a wall of black wool and muscle.

"Are you accusing my wife," Austin said, his voice dangerously low, "of forcing you to drink alcohol while you were having sex with her ex-boyfriend?"

"No!" Doria cried. "It was the drug! The drug for you! She switched it!"

Gasps.

Doria froze. She realized what she had just said.

Carter closed his eyes.

"The drug for me?" Austin repeated.

Janey peeked out from behind Austin's arm. She looked at Doria, her eyes wide with feigned horror and confusion.

"A drug?" Janey asked, her voice trembling. "Doria... what were you planning? You came to my room earlier... you said you had a way out for me..."

Doria's drug-addled mind couldn't follow the trap. All she saw was betrayal. "I told you!" she screamed at her father. "I told you the plan! The sedative for Austin! To void the prenup so she could leave with the money!"

It was a death sentence, confessed live.

Marcus turned on his daughter. His face was purple.

He slapped her.

The sound was wet and heavy. Doria fell to the floor, clutching her cheek, staring up at her father in shock.

"You stupid, stupid girl," Marcus hissed.

Janey watched them. She felt nothing. No pity. No joy. Just the cold satisfaction of a balanced equation.

She looked up at Austin. He was looking down at her.

He saw the setup. He saw the manipulation.

He didn't look angry. He looked impressed.

Carter Hayes shoved a security guard away. He smoothed his hair, trying to regain some shred of dignity.

He locked eyes with Janey.

"Janey," he pleaded, stepping toward her. "Tell them. Tell them this is a misunderstanding. We... we have a history."

He was playing the emotional card. The one that had worked for years.

Janey stepped out from behind Austin. She stopped three feet from Carter.

"History?" she asked. Her voice wasn't weak anymore. "You mean when you used my keycard to steal the Roy prototypes? Or when you and Doria laughed about my 'daddy issues' in bed?"

Carter paled. "Don't be crazy. I have texts-"

"And I have memories," Janey interrupted. She turned to Austin's CFO, who was standing nearby, looking grim. "Mr. Henderson, check the logs for Walton Corp's offshore accounts. Look for a short sale initiated three days ago against Roy Group, funneled through a shell company called Vanguard Tech. The transaction ID will be linked to an encrypted IP address that bounces through three servers before terminating in the Cayman Islands. But the initial authorization came from a terminal inside Hayes Industries headquarters."

Carter's knees buckled.

"The SEC might take months to unravel that," Janey said coolly, her eyes fixed on Carter. "But your board won't."

"How..." Carter whispered. "How did you know that?"

"I have my ways," Janey said. "And as of five minutes ago, when my husband crushed your short, he owns your debt."

Carter looked like he was going to vomit. Federal prison wasn't a possibility anymore; it was a certainty.

"And regarding our 'history'," Janey continued, her voice hardening into diamond. "If I ever hear my name in your mouth again..."

She turned to Austin.

"My husband will sue you until you are living in a cardboard box."

My husband.

Austin raised an eyebrow. He liked the sound of that.

He stepped forward, aligning himself with her. A united front.

"You heard Mrs. Walton," Austin said. "Get off my property, Hayes. Before I have you removed in pieces."

Carter looked at the two of them. The cripple and the bastard daughter. They looked like royalty.

He spat on the floor, glared at Janey, and turned around. The security guards grabbed his arms and marched him out.

A slow clap started. Then another.

The guests were cheering. They loved a villain, but they loved a winner more.

Janey turned to Austin. Her shoulders slumped slightly. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her trembling.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For playing along."

Austin looked at her. He took a glass of water from a passing tray and handed it to her.

"You are ruthless, Janey," he said. It was a compliment.

"Survival requires it," she replied, taking the glass.

Their fingers brushed. A spark, not of romance, but of recognition.

Suddenly, the main doors banged open again.

A rough, booming voice echoed through the hall.

"Where is she? Where is my granddaughter?"

An old man in a cheap suit, smelling of tobacco and machine oil, strode in. Behind him were four burly men in union jackets.

Arthur Vance. The head of the Steelworkers Union.

And Janey's grandfather.