Corinne murmured an excuse about needing fresh air. She released Justus's arm and walked toward the glass doors leading to the outdoor terrace.

Candi, smelling blood in the water, immediately detached herself from the crowd and followed.

The heavy glass door clicked shut behind them. The thumping bass of the party was instantly muted. The cold Manhattan night wind whipped across the terrace, biting into Corinne's exposed skin.

"Hey!" Candi barked from behind her. Her voice was thick with arrogant entitlement.

Corinne stopped. She turned around slowly. The fragile, terrified mask she had worn all night dissolved into the chilling wind. Her face settled into a mask of absolute, terrifying stillness.

Candi marched forward, her heels clicking aggressively on the stone tiles. "You think you can play the victim in front of Justus Wilson and make me look bad? You're nothing but a pathetic whore."

Corinne didn't say a word. She just stared at Candi. Her eyes were completely dead, looking at the woman as if she were already a corpse.

The total silence infuriated Candi. The lack of fear was an insult. Candi's face twisted in rage. She pulled her arm back, her hand raised high, aiming a vicious slap directly at Corinne's face.

The heavy diamond ring on Candi's finger caught the moonlight. If that hit connected, it would tear Corinne's cheek open.

Corinne's eyes tracked the trajectory of the hand. Her brain's tactical analysis kicked in, processing the speed and angle in a fraction of a second.

Just as the palm descended, Corinne shifted her weight. She pivoted her torso a mere two inches. The slap sliced through empty air.

Before Candi could recover her balance, Corinne's left hand shot out like a viper. She clamped her fingers around Candi's wrist like a steel vice. Simultaneously, her right hand gripped Candi's forearm.

Using Candi's own aggressive forward momentum, Corinne panicked and threw up her hands. She delivered a desperate, clumsy shove that sent the off-balance Candi stumbling backward over her own stiletto heels.

Candi's ankles twisted violently. Her body flailed backward in a chaotic, uncontrolled arc. She slammed heavily onto the hard stone tiles of the terrace with a sickening thud.

A sharp, agonizing scream ripped out of Candi's throat. The crisp, unmistakable sound of a bone snapping echoed in the cold air. Candi curled into a fetal position, clutching her rapidly swelling wrist, sobbing hysterically.

Corinne stood perfectly still. Her breathing hadn't even elevated. The hem of her velvet dress settled elegantly around her ankles.

The glass doors burst open. Evelina, followed by Corwin and several guests, rushed onto the terrace. They froze at the sight of Candi writhing on the ground.

Evelina gasped loudly. She ran to Candi, dropping to her knees. But her eyes shot up, glaring at Corinne with absolute venom.

Instantly, Corinne slapped both hands over her mouth. Her eyes widened in horror. She forced her shoulders to shake violently, backing away until she hit the glass railing.

"She... she tried to hit me!" Corinne stammered, her voice cracking with fake panic. "I just... I just put my hands up to block her, and she tripped!"

"You liar!" Evelina shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at Corinne. "You're a psycho! You attacked her!"

Corwin stepped out of the shadows. His dark eyes darted from Candi's twisted wrist to Corinne's trembling, terrified form pressing against the railing.

"She broke my arm!" Candi wailed, tears streaming down her face. "Corwin, call the police! Have her arrested!"

Justus stepped out from behind Corwin. He calmly walked over and stood directly in front of Corinne, shielding her from the crowd. He let out a low, mocking laugh.

"Call the police," Justus agreed smoothly. He raised his hand and pointed toward the upper corner of the terrace wall. "I'm sure the security cameras caught everything. Including who threw the first punch."

The red recording light on the dome camera blinked steadily in the dark.

Evelina's face went chalk white. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She knew Candi had followed Corinne out here to start a fight.

Corwin stared at the camera, then back at Justus guarding Corinne. His jaw locked. His eyes were pitch black, unreadable, but he didn't say a single word.

Corinne peeked out from behind Justus's broad shoulder. She met Corwin's gaze. For one split second, the fear vanished from her eyes, replaced by a sharp, mocking gleam.

"I think we've had enough socializing for one night," Justus announced loudly. "This crowd is getting a bit too aggressive for our taste."

He wrapped his arm securely around Corinne's waist and guided her toward the doors. He left the chaotic terrace and Evelina's furious face behind.

As they turned the corner into the hallway, Corinne dropped the trembling act entirely. A cold, satisfied smile touched her lips. The first drop of blood had been drawn.

The black stretch Lincoln pulled away from the curb, leaving the flashing cameras and the suffocating noise of the penthouse party behind.

Inside the cabin, the lighting was dim. The soundproof glass partition separating them from the driver slid up with a soft hum. The world was instantly cut off.

Corinne slumped back against the plush leather seat. She let out a long, heavy exhale. The fragile, terrified persona melted off her skin like wax.

She kicked the shoes off, letting them hit the floorboard. She pulled her knees up, aggressively rubbing her reddened ankles. There was no grace in the movement, just raw, physical relief.

Justus reached into the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of ice water. He handed it to her, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched her discard her elegant facade.

Corinne snatched the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and downed half the water in one go. The freezing liquid hit her stomach, extinguishing the adrenaline fire that had been burning since the terrace.

Justus tapped the screen built into the console. The display lit up, showing real-time Twitter trends.

"Corinne Maxwell" and "Justus Wilson's new weapon" were already dominating the top trending spots.

"That throw on the terrace," Justus said, leaning back. "That was the most expensive piece of theater I've seen all year."

Corinne wiped a drop of water from her chin. She let out a dark, humorless laugh. "That was just the interest. I'm here for the principal. And I'm taking it all."

Justus raised his glass of scotch. Corinne tapped her water bottle against it. The glass and plastic clinked-a hollow sound sealing a very dark contract.

"So," Justus murmured, taking a sip. "Are you really going to keep poking the bear? Corwin is going to retaliate."

Corinne's eyes sharpened into daggers. She picked up her phone, unlocked it, and swiped to a PDF document. She tossed the phone onto Justus's lap.

It was a highly classified short-selling report targeting the Pierce family's primary hedge fund. Evelina's money.

Justus scanned the document. His eyebrows shot up. He looked at Corinne, genuinely surprised. He knew she had connections, but this required deep, entrenched Wall Street power. The depth of this woman's resources was staggering.

"Tonight was just to let them know I'm breathing the same air," Corinne said coldly. "Tomorrow, I start bleeding their accounts."

"Wall Street is already buzzing about you," Justus confirmed, handing the phone back. "My job here is done. The stage is yours. I'm not getting caught in the crossfire when Corwin realizes what you're doing."

Corinne nodded. She knew Justus was just using her to humiliate Corwin. The real war was hers alone to fight.

The Lincoln glided past Central Park. Corinne's head snapped toward the window. Her eyes locked onto a towering luxury high-rise piercing the night sky.

It was the penthouse. The place she used to call home. The place where Alex was born. The place where he died.

"Stop the car," Corinne ordered sharply.

The driver hit the brakes. The heavy car idled by the curb. Corinne pressed her face against the cold glass of the window. Her eyes greedily devoured the sight of the illuminated floor-to-ceiling windows on the top floor.

Justus watched her profile. The ruthless ambition vanished from her face. In its place was an ocean of raw, suffocating agony.

Corinne's index finger traced the outline of the balcony on the glass. The movement was agonizingly tender, as if she were stroking a child's cheek.

"I'm going back in there," Corinne whispered to the glass. "That's my sanctuary. And it's going to be my battlefield."

"That building is Corwin's fortress now," Justus warned quietly. "He doesn't let anyone in. You step foot in there, it's suicide."

Corinne slowly pulled her hand away from the window. She turned to look at Justus. The grief in her eyes hardened into solid steel.

"Then I'll walk through hell to get the keys."

She pressed the intercom button. "Drive. Take us to Long Island."

The car accelerated, heading away from the glittering lights of Manhattan, plunging toward the dark, quiet expanse of Long Island.

Corinne closed her eyes. Her mind was instantly flooded with the sound of Alex's laughter, followed immediately by the image of his small, lifeless body.

Justus looked at her fists, clenched so tightly the veins in her wrists were bulging. He quietly reached over and turned down the cabin temperature, letting the silence swallow them whole.

Outside, the city faded into darkness. Inside, the fire of revenge burned hotter than ever.

The heavy tires of the Lincoln crunched to a halt on the gravel road outside the Long Island cemetery.

Justus didn't move to open his door. He stayed in the warmth of the car, gesturing for his two massive bodyguards to wait by the gates.

Corinne pushed the door open herself. She popped a large black umbrella, stepping out into the freezing, torrential rain. Her heels sank instantly into the thick, freezing mud.

She walked alone down the narrow, winding path. The rain battered against the nylon of her umbrella. The sound was deafening, like a million tiny, frantic whispers.

She stopped in front of a minimalist, slate-gray headstone nestled under a weeping willow. This was where Alex lay.

There was no photograph on the stone. No loving epitaph. Just his name and the dates. It was as cold and clinical as Corwin's heart.

Corinne slowly crouched down. The hem of her expensive dress dragged in the wet dirt. She reached out with a trembling hand. Her index finger traced the carved letters of his name, wiping away the splattered mud.

Her skin pressed against the freezing stone. She closed her eyes, desperately trying to feel a phantom warmth that wasn't there.

She didn't cry. Her tear ducts felt burned out. She just stared at the grave with hollow, dead eyes.

Her brain violently replayed that afternoon six years ago. The echo of Alex's giggles. Evelina's sudden, piercing scream. The back of the strange nanny rushing down the hallway with a bundle in her arms.

Corinne reached into the deep pocket of her coat. She pulled out a small, slightly worn plush rabbit. She set it gently on the base of the headstone.

It was the toy she had bought for him the day he died. It was six years late.

She opened her mouth. Her throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. Her voice came out as a harsh, guttural rasp.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the empty air.

"I'm a bad mother. I didn't protect you. And I let them brand me as the monster who killed you."

The wind howled, violently shoving the umbrella backward. The rain lashed against her face and soaked through the right shoulder of her coat. The freezing water seeped into her skin, but she couldn't feel it.

She stared at the stone until her vision blurred.

"Evelina," Corinne breathed, the name tasting like poison on her tongue. "I will tear her life apart piece by piece. I will make her choke on her own blood."

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving. "And your father. He was so blind. He threw away the only person who loved him to protect the snakes in his house."

In the distance, one of the bodyguards took a step forward, holding up a spare umbrella. Corinne snapped her head around. She shot him a glare so lethal, so full of unhinged violence, that the trained professional immediately backed away.

Corinne stayed crouched by the grave. The hours bled away. She let the freezing rain soak her to the bone. It was a physical penance. A somatic punishment for surviving when her son hadn't.

When the sky finally began to turn a bruised purple with the dawn, the rain stopped. A single ray of pale sunlight hit the wet headstone.

Corinne stood up. Her joints popped and cracked in protest. Her muscles were locked with cold.

She looked down at the name one last time. The fragile, grieving mother was gone. The woman who turned away from the grave was a machine built for war.

"I won't rest until they are all buried," she swore to the stone.

She turned and walked back down the path. Her strides were long and rigid, her heels crushing the dead, wet leaves into the mud.

She pulled open the car door and slid into the leather seat. Justus looked at her dripping hair and blue lips. He picked up a dry towel and held it out to her. He didn't say a word.

Corinne ignored the towel. She stared straight ahead at the partition. "Back to Manhattan."

She pulled her phone from her wet pocket. She dialed a heavily encrypted number. It rang once.

"Initiate the protocol," Corinne commanded quietly.

A deep, synthesized male voice answered on the other end. "Understood. Asset One is prepared and standing by."

Justus's hand paused mid-air for a fraction of a second, noting the encrypted tone, but he didn't pry. He slowly lowered the towel, choosing to keep his mouth shut and respect the boundaries of their temporary alliance.

The Lincoln sped back toward the city skyline. The gears of absolute destruction had begun to turn. There was no stopping it now.