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.

Katelyn let out a sharp cry as her hip slammed into the polished marble floor. She lay sprawled in front of Brion’s custom-made oxfords, her dress tangled around her legs like a snared animal.

The ballroom was dead silent, save for the frantic, mechanical clicking of camera shutters.

Brion stared down at the woman on the floor. His expression didn’t change, but his eyes looked at her the way one might look at a diseased rat.

Katelyn looked up, tears streaming down her face, mascara streaking black tracks through her foundation. She reached out a trembling hand, trying to grab the hem of Brion’s trousers to pull herself up.

Brion took a deliberate half-step backward. The movement was small, but it radiated an overwhelming aura of disgust and absolute dominance.

“Get out.” Brion’s voice was low, smooth, terrifyingly calm.

Alfonso immediately stepped between his boss and the woman on the floor, blocking Katelyn’s path.

Gemma walked down the final steps. Her posture was flawless. She didn’t spare Katelyn a single glance.

She walked straight up to Brion and tilted her head back to meet his gaze.

Brion’s eyes narrowed slightly, bracing for her to run, bracing for the inevitable rejection he had endured a thousand times before.

Instead, Gemma lifted her hand and slid it through the crook of his arm, pressing her side against his solid chest.

Brion’s entire body went rigid. The muscles in his arm turned to stone. For a split second, he stopped breathing. Then his large hand clamped down over her wrist, pinning her arm to his side with a bruising, desperate force.

Gemma ignored the pain. She turned to face the wall of flashing cameras and offered a bright, perfectly composed smile.

“My maid of honor was just a little too excited for the champagne toast,” Gemma announced, her voice carrying clearly across the room. “She missed a step.”

A flawless execution. She reduced Katelyn’s malicious sabotage to a clumsy, embarrassing drunken mistake.

Katelyn slumped against the floor, lips trembling uncontrollably, but not a single coherent word escaped her throat. She stared up at Gemma clinging to Brion, her eyes swimming with a toxic mix of venom and absolute terror. All that came out was a pathetic, meaningless whimper. She looked exactly like a stray dog with a broken spine.

A collective murmur rippled through the crowd at the bizarre, pathetic display. Reporters surged forward, shoving microphones over the velvet ropes, eager to capture the bridesmaid’s humiliating breakdown.

Brion moved instantly. He shifted his broad shoulders, physically blocking Gemma from the cameras, shielding her entirely with his own body.

He turned his head and glared at the media pit. The sheer, suffocating menace in his eyes made the front row of reporters physically step back.

“If a single picture of this pathetic display makes it to print,” Brion said, his voice echoing in the silent room, “your parent companies will be delisted from the exchange by noon tomorrow.”

No one breathed. No one doubted him.

Brion looked at the head of security. “Throw her on the street.”

Two massive guards grabbed Katelyn by the armpits and hauled her off the ground. She kicked and screamed, her one remaining shoe abandoned on the marble.

Gemma leaned her head against Brion’s shoulder, watching with cold satisfaction as the heavy oak doors slammed shut, cutting off Katelyn’s wails.

The silence in the room was deafening.

Brion looked down at Gemma. His grip on her wrist tightened further.

“What game are you playing?” he whispered, his voice vibrating with dangerous suspicion.