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?!

Elba slapped a hand over her forehead, her cheeks burning bright red. "W-what are you doing?" she stammered.

Angelo realized what he had just done. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture, and walked briskly back to his desk to hide his sudden awkwardness. "A reward. For sitting quietly and not interrupting my work."

Elba rolled her eyes behind his back.

Psychopath, she grumbled internally. Slap me in the face one day, give me candy the next.

A sharp knock echoed through the room. Frank Baxter, Angelo's Chief Executive Assistant, walked in carrying a thick stack of folders.

Frank had been with Angelo for five years. He was fiercely loyal, meticulous, and quiet.

He set the folders on the desk. "Boss, the legal documents for the reverse takeover are ready for your signature."

Elba leaned over the back of the sofa, looking at Frank. A wave of deep sadness washed over her.

Frank is such a good guy, she sighed in her mind. It's a tragedy that next month, the CFO-who is secretly working for Georgina-is going to frame him for stealing corporate secrets. Frank is going to jump off the roof of this building.

Angelo had just uncapped his expensive fountain pen. He froze. The gold nib pressed so hard into the paper it tore a jagged gash through the contract.

He slowly raised his head. His eyes locked onto Frank, but his mind was spinning with violent rage. The CFO was Georgina's mole?!

Frank shifted uncomfortably under the intense stare. "Boss? Is there an error in the contract?"

Angelo forced his muscles to relax. He signed his name over the torn paper and handed the folder back. "No error. Frank, effective immediately, sever the CFO's access to the core encrypted database."

Frank blinked in surprise, but his training kicked in. "Understood. I'll handle it right now."

As Frank turned to leave, Angelo spoke again, his voice dangerously low. "And Frank... put a shadow team on the CFO. Track every cent moving through his personal accounts. Absolute secrecy."

Frank's posture stiffened. He realized there was a traitor. He nodded sharply and left the room.

Elba sat back on the sofa, scratching her head.

Did he take crazy pills today? she wondered. Why is he suddenly investigating the CFO? Did Frank secretly report something to him earlier? Or... does he have an even more terrifying intelligence network than I thought?

Angelo's heart skipped a beat. He quickly picked up his coffee mug, taking a sip to hide his face. He could never let her figure out he was reading her mind.

Suddenly, the private landline on his desk rang loudly.

Angelo looked at the caller ID. His jaw clenched. It was the Long Island estate.

He pressed the speaker button.

His mother's voice, Carla Potter, filled the room. It was shrill and vibrating with fury.

"Angelo! Bring Elba back to the estate this instant!" Carla screamed through the speaker. "Georgina was humiliated at the banquet today! You both owe her an apology, and Elba needs to be disciplined!"

The air in the office turned to ice.

Elba heard her mother's voice. Her body violently flinched. The visceral terror of her past life-being screamed at, dragged out of the house, abandoned to die-crashed over her.

She wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, pulling herself into a tiny ball, shaking uncontrollably.

The Last Supper is here, her mind wept in absolute despair. If we go back to the estate, Georgina will find a way to kill me. The countdown to the Potter family's destruction starts tonight.

Angelo heard the raw, agonizing fear in her mind. His blood ran cold, then boiled with a protective rage so fierce it physically hurt his chest.

He leaned over the desk. His voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of any filial respect. "Mother. We will come back tonight. But we are not coming to apologize. We are coming to settle the score."

Carla gasped on the other end, but before she could scream again, Angelo slammed his finger down, cutting the line.

He walked around the desk. He approached the sofa and slowly dropped to one knee, lowering his physical height until he was looking up into Elba's terrified eyes.

He reached out and wrapped his large, warm hands over her freezing, trembling fingers.

He stared directly into her soul, his voice a vow of absolute certainty. "Do not be afraid. I am here. No one is going to touch a single hair on your head. Not Georgina. And not our parents."

Elba looked at his fierce, unyielding eyes. A hot tear slipped down her cheek. The storm was coming, but for the first time in two lifetimes, she wasn't facing it alone.