Nathaniel caught up to her in the parking lot. It had started to rain, a cold, gray drizzle that turned the New York skyline into a watercolor smear.

Victoria was standing by the curb, waiting. She wasn't shivering. She stood like a statue.

"Victoria!" Nathaniel called out.

She turned. The rain had plastered a few strands of hair to her cheek.

Colin came running up behind Nathaniel, holding a tablet over his head to shield it from the rain.

"Mr. Sterling!" Colin gasped. "The trace came back."

Nathaniel stopped. He grabbed the tablet.

Origin: Unknown / Masked VPN.

Location: Routed through server nodes in Cayman Islands, Panama, and Russia.

"It's a dead end," Colin said apologetically. "It's a professional spoofing service. Untraceable."

Nathaniel stared at the screen. Untraceable. Professional.

He looked up at Victoria.

"You hired a pro," he accused, his voice low. "That's why we can't trace it."

Victoria laughed. It was a low, throaty sound that vanished into the rain. She wiped a drop of water from her chin.

"You give me too much credit, Nathaniel. I'm just a housewife, remember? I wouldn't know how to hire a Russian hacker."

Victoria lied smoothly. "And if I wanted to send a message, I wouldn't use a text. I'd send a lawyer."

Nathaniel closed his eyes for a second. The uncertainty was gnawing at him. But the lack of evidence wasn't proof of innocence. It just meant she was good at hiding it.

He opened his eyes. He walked toward her. He took off his suit jacket.

"You're wet," he said. He tried to drape the jacket over her shoulders.

Victoria took a step back. The jacket fell from his hands and landed in a puddle of oily water.

Nathaniel froze. He looked at the jacket, then at her.

"I will compensate you," he said, his voice stiff. It was the only way he knew how to fix things. "I'll increase the settlement. Another ten million."

"Keep your money, Nathaniel. I don't want your money."

"Then what do you want?" he asked, desperate.

Victoria shook her head. "I want you to leave me alone."

She pulled out her phone. A black sedan pulled up to the curb. It was an Uber Black she had summoned.

"Unlock your bank cards," Victoria said as she opened the car door. "I'm going to finish my shopping."

"I... okay," Nathaniel said. He felt like he was losing control of gravity.

"Just... come to the family estate tonight," he added, almost pleading. "Grandfather expects us for the monthly dinner. We need to tell him together. In person."

Victoria paused. She looked at him, calculating.

"Fine," she said. "But don't expect me to play nice."

She got into the car. The door slammed shut.

Nathaniel stood in the rain, looking at his ruined jacket in the mud. It was a five-thousand-dollar custom suit. Now it was garbage.

"Should we follow her, sir?" Colin asked.

Nathaniel watched the taillights of the sedan disappear into the traffic.

"No," he said quietly. "Let her go. We'll see her tonight."

The suite at the St. Regis was opulent, decorated in shades of cream and gold, but to Victoria, it felt like a cage.

She spent the afternoon organizing her gear. The burner phone buzzed with updates from Mouse, confirming that Julia's medical files were indeed fabricated, but the source of the funding was still obscured behind layers of shell companies.

At 6:00 PM, her personal phone rang. It was Nathaniel.

"I'm downstairs," he said. His voice was tight.

"I'm coming," Victoria replied.

She checked her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a modest, navy blue dress with a high neck. Pearls. Her hair was pulled back in a chignon. It was the "Sterling Wife" costume. Perfect. Boring. Submissive.

She went down to the lobby. Nathaniel was waiting near the concierge desk. He had changed into a fresh suit, but he looked haggard.

When he saw her, he didn't compliment her. He just nodded.

"Grandfather doesn't know yet," Nathaniel said as they walked to the waiting limousine. "About the divorce. Or Julia."

"So we are lying to him?" Victoria asked.

"We are breaking it gently," Nathaniel corrected. "His health is failing. A shock could kill him."

They got into the car. Victoria slid into the back seat, then placed her large purse on the seat next to her, effectively blocking him.

"Sit in the front," she said coolly.

Nathaniel stared at her. "It's a limousine, Victoria. There's plenty of room."

"I prefer the distance," she said.

Nathaniel slammed the door. He walked around and got into the passenger seat next to the driver. The partition window was up.

The drive to the Hamptons took two hours. Victoria used the time to text a contact named "Baxter"—her code name for her handler.

V: Going into the lion's den. Sterling Manor.

B: Don't let the old witch eat you. Need an extraction team?

V: No. I can handle a dinner party.

The car slowed down as it approached the massive iron gates of Sterling Manor. The estate loomed ahead, a sprawling gothic mansion that looked beautiful and oppressive at the same time.

Victoria took a deep breath. She checked her reflection in her compact mirror. The mask was in place.

Showtime.