Angelo kept his arm wrapped tightly around Elba's shoulders as they descended the curved staircase. They walked back into the main ballroom, instantly drawing every eye in the room.

In the center of the crowd stood Georgina. She wore a pure white lace haute couture gown. When she saw Angelo holding Elba, a flash of pure venom crossed her eyes.

She blinked rapidly. The venom vanished, replaced instantly by a pathetic, fragile expression. She walked toward the bottom of the stairs.

As they reached the final step, Georgina raised her voice just enough for the surrounding guests to hear. Her voice trembled with fake tears. "Angelo... you finally made it."

Elba felt a full-body shudder of disgust.

Here we go, Elba thought. The white lotus is starting her performance!

Angelo stopped. His face was a mask of cold stone. He stared at Georgina without saying a word.

Georgina acted as if she didn't notice his freezing glare. She took a step forward and reached out, trying to loop her arm through his free one.

Angelo shifted his weight. He smoothly stepped sideways, leaving her hand hanging awkwardly in the empty air.

Georgina's eyes instantly welled up with real tears of embarrassment. She quickly pivoted to Elba, her voice dropping to a pitiful whisper. "Elba... are you feeling better? I wanted to visit you at the hospital so badly, but..."

She let the sentence hang, looking down at the floor, letting the guests assume Elba had banned her from visiting.

Elba rolled her eyes so hard they hurt.

But my ass! she yelled in her head. Angelo grounded you, you manipulative snake! Stop playing the victim!

A flicker of dark amusement crossed Angelo's eyes. He stayed perfectly still, waiting to see what the liar would do next.

Seeing that neither of them was reacting, Georgina went for the kill. She let out a sudden, sharp gasp. Her ankle buckled inward, and she threw her body weight directly toward Elba.

Here it comes! The classic fake fall! Elba's mind raced. In the script I saw during my coma, this is where I instinctively push her, she falls, and I become the vicious bully in front of everyone. I absolutely cannot touch her!

Elba threw her hands up in the air, palms facing out, and jumped backward a full yard.

Georgina hadn't expected Elba to move so fast. With nothing to catch her, her center of gravity completely failed. She plummeted toward the hard marble floor.

In that split second, Angelo didn't reach out to catch his "sister." Instead, he grabbed Elba's waist and pulled her another step back, completely clearing the drop zone.

Smack.

Georgina hit the marble floor hard. Her champagne glass shattered, splashing sticky yellow liquid all over her pristine white lace dress.

The ballroom went dead silent. The music seemed to stop. Everyone stared in absolute shock. Angelo Potter had just watched his sister fall and actively moved away.

Georgina pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her knees throbbed with real pain. She looked up at Angelo, tears streaming down her face. "Brother... why didn't you..."

Angelo looked down at her. His voice was cold enough to freeze blood. "If you can't even stand on your own two feet, don't come out and embarrass the Potter family."

The words hit Georgina like a physical slap across the face. Her carefully crafted image of elegance shattered into pieces.

Elba bit her lip so hard she tasted copper, desperately trying not to laugh out loud.

Yes! she cheered internally. Her face is literally green right now!

Angelo heard her laughter in his mind. The ice in his eyes melted slightly.

He reached down and grabbed Elba's hand, lacing his fingers through hers. He turned his body to face the crowd of staring socialites and businessmen.

His voice boomed through the silent room. "Elba is, and always will be, the eldest daughter of the Potter family. She is the only sister I protect. Anyone who disrespects her, makes an enemy of me."

The crowd gasped. The social hierarchy of New York just flipped upside down.

Georgina sat on the floor, digging her manicured nails so hard into her palms that they bled. She ground her teeth together in pure hatred.

Angelo didn't spare her a second glance. He pulled Elba forward, walking out of the ballroom under the terrified, respectful gaze of the entire city.

Georgina sat humiliated on the cold marble floor. The whispers of the guests felt like needles piercing her skin.

She knew she couldn't throw a tantrum. She had to maintain the victim persona. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing more tears to fall, and placed her hands on the floor, pretending she was too weak to stand.

A pale, long-fingered hand appeared in her line of sight, holding a crisp white handkerchief.

Georgina looked up. A young man with slightly curly, shoulder-length hair and melancholic eyes was looking down at her with deep sympathy.

It was Arturo Veil. The rising indie film director known for his dark, psychological movies about broken people.

Georgina recognized him instantly. A sharp, calculating light flashed behind her tears.

She reached out with a trembling hand, took the handkerchief, and let him gently pull her to her feet. "Thank you, Mr. Veil," she whispered, her voice breaking perfectly.

Arturo looked at her stained white dress and her red, tear-filled eyes. His artistic savior complex flared to life.

"In this fake circle, the kindest people are always the ones who get hurt," Arturo said softly.

Georgina offered a bitter, tragic smile and looked down. "It's fine. As long as my sister's anger is appeased, my suffering doesn't matter."

Arturo felt a surge of disgust toward Elba, the arrogant heiress, and a strong protective urge toward Georgina. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a matte black business card.

"If you ever want to escape this toxic environment," Arturo said, "I have a role in my next film that is perfect for you. Call me."

Georgina gripped the card like a lifeline. She bowed her head in thanks, but inside, she was screaming with triumph. Hollywood resources secured.

Outside, the black Maybach glided smoothly through the neon-lit streets of Manhattan.

In the backseat, Elba had kicked off her high heels. She curled her legs up onto the leather seat, completely abandoning her posture.

Angelo sat beside her. He watched her relaxed form, a faint, genuine smile touching his lips.

Elba stared out the window at the passing lights.

He was so cool back there! she thought, still riding the high. That line about not being able to stand up? Absolute perfection!

Angelo's ears grew slightly warm. He brought a fist to his mouth and coughed softly to hide his reaction.

Elba turned her head. She looked at his sharp jawline. A sudden wave of anxiety hit her stomach.

But... he defended me so publicly, she worried internally. That's going to piss off the corporate syndicate backing Georgina.

Angelo's eyes narrowed instantly. Corporate syndicate?

Tomorrow morning, that old fox Dax Mencher is going to launch his attack, Elba continued in her mind. Angelo's trust fund hasn't been activated yet. How is he going to fight back without that capital?

Angelo's heart pounded. Dax Mencher. The Potter Group's biggest rival. He was attacking tomorrow?

Angelo immediately reached into the seat pocket and pulled out his encrypted tablet. He opened the corporate calendar and the live stock market feeds, his eyes scanning the data rapidly.

Elba watched him suddenly start working. She assumed she was distracting him. She quietly slid further into her corner and closed her eyes.

Whatever, she sighed in her mind. I'll just take it one day at a time. If the company goes bankrupt, I'll just go wash dishes at a diner to support him.

Angelo's finger froze over the glass screen.

Wash dishes to support him.

A strange, intense heat bloomed in the center of his chest. He turned his head. Elba was already half-asleep, her breathing evening out.

He picked up his suit jacket from the seat and draped it gently over her body.

He looked back at the tablet, his jaw setting into a hard line. No one is touching the Potter Group. And you will never wash a single dish.

The Maybach descended into the underground garage. The war was starting at dawn.

The private elevator doors opened directly into the top floor of the Potter Group headquarters.

Angelo stepped out wearing a sharp, dark grey bespoke suit. He walked with a commanding stride, leading Elba, who was dressed in simple jeans and a sweater.

The entire floor of executives and secretaries froze. They stared at Elba in shock, but no one dared to breathe a word of question.

Angelo led her into his massive CEO office. He guided her to the plush leather sofa by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. He pressed a button on his desk. "Bring in a tray of pastries. Now."

He walked over and patted Elba's head. "Stay here. Do not move."

Elba picked up a macaron from the tray the secretary rushed in.

Whatever, she thought, chewing slowly. Everywhere is a dead end anyway. Might as well eat good food while waiting for Dax Mencher to come collect our corpses.

Angelo's lips twitched in annoyance at her pessimism. He walked behind his massive mahogany desk and slammed his finger onto the intercom.

"All core executives. Conference room. Three minutes. Initiate protocol alpha," he barked.

Ten minutes later, the glass-walled conference room was suffocatingly tense. The massive screen showed the stock price of a core Potter tech subsidiary plummeting violently.

The Chief Financial Officer wiped sweat from his neck. "Boss, it's Dax Mencher's hedge fund. They leaked fabricated documents claiming our tech division is cooking the books. It's triggering a massive panic sell-off!"

The room erupted into chaos. Executives shouted over each other, begging Angelo to halt trading or inject the company's cash reserves to save the stock.

Out in the office, Elba sat on the sofa playing a game on her phone. She could hear the yelling through the slightly open conference room door.

Idiots, she sneered in her mind. Pumping money into that stock right now is throwing cash into a meat grinder! Dax doesn't give a shit about the tech company. His real target is the Potter Group's overseas rare earth mineral mines! This is just a smokescreen to drain our cash!

Sitting at the head of the conference table, Angelo heard the intelligence loud and clear.

He slammed his hand flat onto the table. The loud crack silenced the room instantly.

His eyes were lethal. "Abandon the tech subsidiary. Let it burn."

The executives gasped. The CFO looked like he was going to have a heart attack. "But sir-"

"Shut up and listen," Angelo commanded. "Transfer all available liquid capital to our offshore accounts. Lock down every single equity trading channel for our rare earth mineral assets. Total freeze."

He turned his piercing gaze to the Head of Acquisitions. "Find the shell company Dax Mencher is using to hide his main capital. Prepare a hostile reverse takeover."

The executives were terrified, but Angelo's absolute authority forced them into motion. Keyboards clattered frantically.

Thirty minutes later, the bloodbath on Wall Street reversed.

Dax Mencher's fund, having drained its resources shorting the tech stock, pivoted to buy the rare earth mineral shares at rock bottom-only to hit a reinforced concrete wall. The channels were locked.

Simultaneously, Potter Group capital slammed into Dax's exposed shell company, gutting it.

The conference room erupted into deafening applause. They had won.

Angelo let out a long breath. He looked through the glass door. Elba was still sitting on the sofa, watching a funny cat video, completely oblivious to the fact that she had just saved a billion-dollar empire.

Angelo walked out of the conference room and approached the sofa. He looked down at her. " Why do you think my trust fund activation is being delayed?"

Elba paused her video, looking up in confusion.

Why else? she thought instantly. Because Dax bribed the lawyer on the trust committee to stall your paperwork! What was his name... Kevin.

Angelo's eyes darkened. The final puzzle piece snapped into place.

He pulled out his phone and texted his legal team: Investigate Kevin on the trust committee. Pull his offshore bank records immediately.

He slipped the phone into his pocket. He looked down at Elba. A rush of intense, overwhelming gratitude hit his chest.

He leaned down, bracing his hands on the back of the sofa. He cupped her face with both hands and pressed a brief, firm kiss to her forehead. "That is the Potter family's gratitude," he stated, pulling back quickly before she could even process the gesture.

Elba's entire body went rigid. Her phone slipped from her fingers and hit the carpet.

Ahhhh! her inner voice shrieked like a siren. The tyrant brother just kissed me?! Did the stress of the corporate war finally break his brain?!