Gemma grabbed Katelyn’s wrist and pulled her into a small, empty lounge room just off the hallway.

Katelyn followed eagerly, assuming Gemma wanted to finalize the escape route away from the security cameras. She quickly locked the door behind them.

Gemma collapsed onto the velvet sofa. She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking as if she were sobbing.

Katelyn poured a glass of warm water from the side table and pressed it into Gemma’s hands. “You have to be brave, Gemma. Go to him.”

Gemma peeked through the gaps in her fingers. She saw the raw contempt pulling at the corners of Katelyn’s mouth.

Gemma reached for the glass. She let her hand jerk deliberately, spilling half the water down the front of her silk dress.

“Oh no!” Katelyn gasped, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at the fabric. “Don’t worry about Brion. He’s just a heartless tyrant anyway. He doesn’t love you.”

A hot spike of pure rage shot through Gemma’s veins at the insult to Brion. Her fingers twitched, fighting the urge to crush the glass in her hand.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But if I leave… what happens to the Vargas family?”

“Your dad is rich.” Katelyn waved a dismissive hand. “He’ll figure out how to handle Wall Street.”

Gemma pulled her own phone from her clutch. “I need to text Jair. I need to make sure he’s really there.”

Katelyn immediately leaned over, eyes glued to the screen, desperate to monitor the prey.

Gemma tilted the phone slightly. The chandelier’s glare hit the privacy screen protector, turning the display pitch black to anyone not staring dead center.

Her thumbs flew across the digital keyboard at blinding speed.

She wasn’t texting Jair. She wasn’t hacking anything. She was inputting Katelyn’s backup email address and the password Katelyn had drunkenly let slip in her past life—a combination of her mother’s birthday and her first love’s name. One of the countless messes Gemma had cleaned up for her. Katelyn’s cloud drive swung wide open.

“I’m just so scared.” Gemma kept her voice a whisper, eyes locked on the loading bar.

Katelyn stomped her foot in frustration. “If you don’t go right now, he’s going to die, Gemma!”

The progress bar hit one hundred percent.

A flood of hidden bank statements and encrypted chat logs populated Gemma’s screen.

She tapped twice, compressed the files, and sent them directly to her secure offshore email server. The evidence was locked down.

She set the phone face down on the velvet cushion.

When she lifted her head, the tears were gone. The trembling had stopped. Her face was carved from ice.

Katelyn took a step back, startled by the sudden drop in temperature.

Gemma stood. She slowly brushed the water droplets off her dress. Every movement was precise, calculated, terrifying.

“Are… are you ready?” Katelyn’s voice faltered. “The media is waiting.”

“How are you liking the new limited-edition Hermès Birkin?” Gemma asked.

The color drained from Katelyn’s face so fast it looked like a special effect. That bag was bought with money she’d siphoned from Gemma’s PR budget to fund negative press.

Gemma didn’t stop. She recited a string of numbers. “Four, zero, nine, two. Cayman Islands.”

Katelyn’s body jerked like she’d been electrocuted.

Gemma took a slow step forward. “Using my money to fund my boyfriend. Tell me, Katelyn, does it feel good?”

Katelyn’s knees gave out. She stumbled backward until her spine slammed hard against the lounge door. Her eyes were wide, white, filled with absolute terror.

Katelyn pressed her back flat against the wood, shaking her head frantically. “Those… those accounts are for the charity! You know I run the orphanage donations!”

Gemma let out a short, sharp laugh. She picked up her phone, unlocked it, and shoved the glowing screen inches from Katelyn’s nose.

The screen displayed a wire transfer receipt. Beneficiary: Jair Murphy. Memo line: Miss you tonight.

Katelyn sucked in a lungful of air. She lunged forward, manicured hands clawing for the device.

Gemma caught Katelyn’s wrist in mid-air. Her fingers clamped over the nerve cluster below the joint. A violent, paralyzing numbness shot straight up Katelyn’s arm, forcing a strangled, agonized gasp from her throat instead of a scream. Gemma released the pressure instantly, leaving nothing but a deep, throbbing ache.

She shoved Katelyn away in disgust. She pulled a wet wipe from the table and meticulously cleaned the fingers that had touched Katelyn’s skin.

“Plan B.” Gemma read aloud from the chat logs on her screen. “Ruin her tonight. Make sure the Hubbard boy sees it.”

Katelyn’s legs completely gave. She collapsed onto the carpet. The perfect, supportive best-friend facade shattered into a million unrecoverable pieces.

She crawled forward and wrapped her arms around Gemma’s calves, sobbing hysterically. “He made me do it! Jair forced me! Please, Gemma!”

Gemma kicked her leg out, sending Katelyn sprawling onto her back.

“You did it because you want the Vargas trust.” Gemma’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper.

Katelyn stopped crying instantly. Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes darted wildly, a new, deeper layer of horror washing over her.

She thought Gemma knew. She thought the bastard secret was out. Her jaw trembled so violently her teeth clicked together.

Gemma watched the panic consume her. She purposefully didn’t mention the paternity. She let the unknown terror rot Katelyn from the inside out.

“If a single negative word about me hits the press tonight,” Gemma said, leaning down until her face was inches from Katelyn’s, “these files go straight to the NYPD Financial Crimes Task Force.”

Katelyn nodded her head so fast it looked like a spasm. Snot and tears smeared across her heavily contoured face.

Gemma reached out and patted Katelyn’s pale, wet cheek with two freezing fingers.

“Get out of my house. If I ever see you near Brion again, I will end you.”

Katelyn scrambled to her feet. She ripped the door open and bolted into the hallway.

She practically collided with a group of three socialites gliding past.

The women stopped, eyes widening at Katelyn’s ruined makeup, her disheveled hair, the frantic, animalistic look in her eyes. One of them let out a muffled scoff of disgust.

Katelyn’s fragile, inflated ego snapped. The humiliation of being looked down upon by the elite burned away her fear, leaving only a toxic, blinding rage.

She whipped her head around and glared at Gemma, who stood perfectly composed in the doorway.

Reason left Katelyn’s brain. She spun around and sprinted down the hall toward the grand spiral staircase.

Gemma’s eyes narrowed. Her muscles coiled. She couldn’t let this lunatic get near the cameras.

She bolted after her. Her heels dug into the thick carpet, closing the distance in seconds.

Katelyn reached the top of the marble stairs. She grabbed the heavy stone banister with both hands, chest heaving, preparing to scream.

Gemma stopped exactly three steps behind her. She looked past Katelyn’s shoulder, straight down into the crowded ballroom below.

Gemma’s eyes swept over the sea of tuxedos and gowns and locked instantly onto the man standing near the center of the room.

Brion Hubbard.

He wore a bespoke black suit that seemed to absorb the light around him. He was listening to an older executive speak, his face an impenetrable mask of boredom and cold authority. Even surrounded by billionaires, his physical presence was suffocating—tall, broad-shouldered, carved from something harder than marble.

As if feeling the weight of her stare, Brion tilted his head up. His dark, piercing eyes cut through the distance and locked directly onto Gemma.

The impact of that gaze hit her chest like a physical blow. Her heart slammed against her ribs.

The memory of his charred, broken body pulling her from the wreckage flashed violently behind her eyes. Her throat constricted. A sudden, hot prickle of tears stung the corners of her eyes.

Brion’s jaw feathered. The muscle ticked under his skin. He noticed the moisture in her eyes, and the temperature around him seemed to drop ten degrees.

Alfonso, standing a step behind Brion, tracked his boss’s gaze and immediately tensed.

At the top of the stairs, Katelyn filled her lungs with air. She opened her mouth to scream Jair’s name to the press.

Gemma snapped out of her trance. Her body moved before her mind gave the order.

She stepped forward and planted the sharp heel of her stiletto firmly onto the trailing hem of Katelyn’s gown.

Katelyn threw her head back to yell, but her forward momentum was violently arrested.

The fabric pulled taut. Katelyn lost her footing entirely.

The intended scream of betrayal morphed into a pathetic, high-pitched yelp of pure panic.

Every head in the ballroom snapped upward. A blinding fusillade of camera flashes erupted from the media pit.

Katelyn flailed backward. Her hands scrambled for purchase and clamped down hard onto Gemma’s forearm. Her acrylic nails dug deep into Gemma’s skin.

Gemma didn’t pull away. She didn’t try to save herself. She leaned into the pull, using her own body weight to drag Katelyn down the first flight of stairs.

To the hundreds of people watching below, it looked exactly like a tragic accident: the clumsy best friend slipping, the devoted bride desperately trying to hold her up.

Katelyn bounced painfully down the marble steps, her knees slamming against the hard stone.

Gemma kept a vice grip on Katelyn’s arm, maintaining perfect posture as she descended. She leaned in, her lips brushing Katelyn’s ear.

“Say one wrong word,” Gemma whispered, her voice sharp as a scalpel, “and the Mendoza family files for bankruptcy by tomorrow morning.”

Katelyn choked back a sob, her spirit crushed by the physical pain and the threat.

They reached the platform. Brion was already standing there.

He stood at the foot of the steps like a towering wall of dark, seething rage. His gaze was locked onto Katelyn’s hands, which were still digging tightly into Gemma’s arm.

Gemma saw a deadly, manic violence brewing in Brion’s pupils.

She couldn’t let someone else be the one to ruin her.

Gemma wrenched her arm free from Katelyn’s grip with a violent twist and shoved her away.

Katelyn tumbled down the last three steps, collapsing in a crumpled, undignified heap directly onto the floor.

Right at Brion Hubbard’s feet.