The next morning, the sun hit the glass facade of Bergdorf Goodman on 5th Avenue, turning the building into a glittering monument to excess.

Victoria walked through the revolving doors. She wasn't wearing black today. She was wearing a white trench coat and oversized sunglasses, looking every inch the scorned billionaire's wife spending her pain away.

She pulled out the burner phone—she had synced Nathaniel's contacts to it the night before—and dialed a number.

"Colin," she said when the line picked up.

"Mrs. Sterling?" Colin, Nathaniel's Chief of Staff, sounded breathless. "Mr. Sterling is in a critical merger meeting—"

"I don't care where he is," Victoria interrupted. "Technically, the divorce is just a piece of paper right now. Which means I am still his wife for all intents and purposes. Get your ass to Bergdorfs. I need someone to carry my bags."

"Mrs. Sterling, I really can't—"

"Colin," she purred, her voice dropping an octave. "Do you want me to show up at the boardroom and make a scene? You know how much Nathaniel hates drama."

There was a pause. Colin knew exactly how volatile the situation was. He sighed.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

When Colin arrived, he looked like a man marching to the gallows. He found Victoria in the handbag department. She was standing in front of a display of limited-edition exotic skin bags.

"You're late," she said, not looking at him. She pointed a manicured finger at the shelf. "I'll take that one. And that one. Actually, I'll take them all. In every color."

The sales assistant, a woman who had seen a lot of rich women have breakdowns, didn't even blink. She just started scanning.

Victoria handed over the Black Amex card. It was Nathaniel's corporate secondary card she had kept.

The machine beeped. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Across town, in a glass-walled conference room, Nathaniel's phone lay face down on the table. It vibrated silently against the mahogany. Once. Twice. Three times. Fraud alerts.

Nathaniel glanced at the screen, saw the notification from Bergdorf Goodman, and his jaw tightened. He was in the middle of a delicate negotiation with a Korean tech conglomerate. He couldn't leave. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

He flipped the phone back over and focused on the projection screen, forcing himself to ignore the buzzing.

Back at the store, Victoria moved to the jewelry department. Colin was already struggling, holding six massive shopping bags in each hand, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Mrs. Sterling, please," he wheezed. "Mr. Sterling is going to be furious."

"He has billions, Colin," Victoria said breezily. She pointed at a diamond necklace. "That one. It looks like tears, doesn't it? Fitting."

Five hundred thousand dollars.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Nathaniel's phone was relentless. His Chief Financial Officer leaned over, whispering, "Sir, is everything alright? Security is flagging unusual activity."

"Ignore it," Nathaniel gritted out. "It's just... overhead costs."

Victoria moved to the men's watch section. She saw a Patek Philippe, intricate and robust. It was exactly the kind of watch her father, Conrad, would appreciate.

"Wrap that one up," she told the clerk.

"A gift for Mr. Sterling?" the clerk asked politely.

"No," Victoria said, her voice loud enough for Colin to hear. "For a friend. Someone who actually knows the value of time."

Suddenly, Nathaniel's phone rang. It wasn't a vibration this time; it was the distinct, piercing ringtone he had assigned to the private hospital line.

The room went silent. Nathaniel's face went pale instantly. The anger regarding the credit card drained out of him, replaced by cold fear.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said, standing up abruptly. "I have a family emergency."

He answered the phone as he strode out of the conference room. "Hello?"

He listened for a few seconds. His eyes widened. "I'm on my way."

He hung up and immediately dialed Colin.

"Where are you?" Nathaniel barked as he sprinted toward the elevator.

"Bergdorf Goodman, sir. Mrs. Sterling is—"

"I don't care what she's buying," Nathaniel interrupted. "Get her in the car. Now. Bring her to Mount Sinai. I'll meet you at the entrance."

"Sir?" Colin was confused. "The hospital?"

"Just do it!" Nathaniel shouted. "She needs to see what she's done."

He ended the call. His mind was racing. Julia. Accident. Truck. And Victoria, conveniently on a spending spree right when the threat was carried out.

It couldn't be a coincidence.

The Maybach tore through the streets of Manhattan. Nathaniel's driver knew better than to ask questions. Nathaniel sat in the back, checking the GPS tracker on Colin's phone. They were converging on the hospital.

When Nathaniel arrived at the Mount Sinai VIP entrance, Colin was just helping Victoria out of a town car. She was surrounded by shopping bags, looking pristine and confused.

Nathaniel didn't wait. He stormed over and grabbed her arm.

"You have some nerve," he hissed.

Victoria looked at him, her eyes wide and innocent behind the sunglasses. "Nathaniel? What are we doing here? I thought you were in a meeting."

"Don't play dumb," Nathaniel snarled. "Money buys distance, doesn't it? You thought you could pay someone off and then go shopping for handbags?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Victoria said, planting her feet as he tried to pull her toward the doors.

"Julia was in a car accident," Nathaniel said, his voice shaking with rage. "A truck ran her off the road."

Victoria frowned. "Is she hurt?"

"Don't pretend you care!" Nathaniel spat. "You did this. You're coming with me. You're going to look her in the eye."

He dragged her through the lobby. Victoria stumbled slightly in her heels, allowing him to pull her. She could have broken his wrist in three different ways, but she let him lead. There were cameras. There were witnesses. She had to play the victim.

They burst into Room 302.

Julia Evans was lying in the bed. Her head was wrapped in a dramatic amount of gauze. Her leg was elevated in a cast. She looked small, fragile, and incredibly pale.

When she saw Nathaniel, she let out a sob. "Nate..."

Nathaniel rushed to her side, releasing Victoria. He touched Julia's face gently. "I'm here. You're safe."

Then Julia saw Victoria standing in the doorway. She flinched, shrinking back against the pillows, her eyes widening in theatrical terror.

"Please," Julia whispered. "Don't let her hurt me again."

Nathaniel turned on his heel. He looked at Victoria with disgusted fury. "See? She's terrified of you."

Victoria leaned against the doorframe. She crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes weren't looking at Nathaniel; they were scanning Julia.

She looked at the bandages. The blood seepage was too bright, too uniform. Fresh blood oxidizes quickly; this looked like theatrical paint. She looked at the cast. It was real plaster, but the muscle tone in Julia's thigh was relaxed. If the leg were truly broken, the muscles would be tense with pain.

"She's acting, Nathaniel," Victoria said calmly.

"Get out!" Nathaniel shouted. "Have you no shame?"

"It was a truck," Julia wept. "A black truck. It just... it swerved right into me. I saw the driver. He was looking right at me."

"I'll find him," Nathaniel promised. "I'll kill him."

"If I wanted her dead," Victoria said, her voice cutting through the melodrama, "she wouldn't be talking. She wouldn't have a scratch on her. She would have simply ceased to exist."

The room went silent. Nathaniel stared at her, shocked by the cold brutality of the statement.

"You're threatening her?"

"I'm stating a fact," Victoria said. "Defamation is a tort in New York, Julia. Accusing me of attempted murder is a serious allegation."

"I didn't say it was you," Julia stammered, clutching Nathaniel's hand. "I just... I feel like someone hates me."

"I don't hate you," Victoria said. "I don't think about you at all."

She pulled out her phone. "I'm recording this. For my lawyers."

"Put that away," Nathaniel commanded. He stepped between them, acting the shield.

"No," Victoria said. "I want the police report. I want to know where this accident happened."

Nathaniel lunged for the phone. He was fast, fueled by adrenaline and rage. He swiped at her hand.

Victoria didn't execute a martial arts block. That would break cover. instead, she seemed to lose her balance on her high heel, stumbling backward just as he swiped.

Nathaniel's hand swiped through empty air where her phone had been a split second before. His momentum carried him forward, and he slammed his hand hard against the wall behind her.

Thud.

The sound was loud. Nathaniel gasped, clutching his bruised knuckles. He looked at Victoria, bewildered. It looked like a clumsy accident, yet she was perfectly unharmed.

Victoria stood up straight, adjusting her coat.

"Careful, Nathaniel," she said softly. "You're clumsy when you're angry."

Julia was staring at her too. For a brief moment, the fear in her eyes wasn't fake.

"Call the police," Victoria said. "I love the NYPD. Let's get them in here."

Two uniformed officers knocked on the open door a moment later. They looked uncomfortable, sensing the domestic volatility in the room.

"Mr. Sterling?" one officer asked. "We have the preliminary accident report."

"Arrest her," Nathaniel said, pointing at Victoria with his uninjured hand. "She orchestrated this."

The officer blinked. "Sir, we need evidence before we can arrest anyone."

"I have evidence!" Julia cried from the bed. "My phone. I got a text."

She fumbled for her phone on the bedside table. She held it up. "Look. Right before the crash."

Nathaniel took the phone. He showed it to the officer. There was a text message from an unknown number.

Disappear or else.

"See?" Nathaniel said. "She threatened her."

Victoria walked over. She didn't ask for permission. She peered at the screen over the officer's shoulder.

"That text was received at 2:00 PM," Victoria said.

"So?" Nathaniel challenged.

"At 2:00 PM, I was at Bergdorf Goodman," Victoria said. "With your assistant, Colin. I was buying a very expensive handbag. You can check the timestamp on the receipt. You can check the security footage."

Colin, who was hovering in the hallway, stepped forward. "She... she's right, Mr. Sterling. I was with her the whole time. She didn't use her phone except to call you."

Nathaniel faltered. "She could have hired someone. She could have sent the text remotely."

"Officer," Victoria said, putting on a mask of confused innocence. "Isn't it true that these spam texts usually come from the internet? Like those robo-calls? Can't you trace where it came from?"

The officer nodded. "We can ask Cyber Crimes to look at the headers, ma'am. But it takes time."

"Nathaniel," Victoria said, turning to him. "You own a tech company. Surely your security team can look at the digital footprint faster than the precinct?"

Nathaniel looked at her. Her eyes were clear, challenging him.

He pulled out his own phone. He called his head of cybersecurity. "I'm sending you a number. Trace it. Now."

He read the number from Julia's phone.

Julia lay back against the pillows. She looked paler now. "Nate, please... does it matter? I'm hurt."

"It matters," Victoria said. She sat down in the visitor's chair, crossing her legs. "Where did the accident happen, Officer?"

"Queens," the officer said. "An industrial access road near the old shipyards."

Victoria raised an eyebrow. She looked at Julia. "Scenic drive, Julia? In a construction zone? In Queens?"

Julia swallowed hard. "I... I was lost. I took a wrong turn."

"In the age of GPS?" Victoria scoffed. "You were there because there are no traffic cameras on that road. It's a blind spot."

The officers exchanged a look. They were seasoned cops. They knew when a story smelled bad.

Nathaniel looked at Julia. He saw the sheen of sweat on her upper lip. But then he looked at her bandaged leg, and his heart softened. She was a victim. Victoria was just twisting words.

"That's enough," Nathaniel said. "You're upsetting her. Get out."

"I'm leaving because I'm bored," Victoria stood up and smoothed her coat. "Not because you told me to."

She walked to the door. She stopped and looked back at the officers.

"Check the skid marks," she said. "Just to be thorough."

She walked out. Nathaniel watched her go. He felt a headache building behind his eyes.