The sales office for the Billionaires' Row luxury condominiums smelled of expensive espresso and arrogance.

The real estate agent, a man with too much hair gel and a sharp suit, looked June up and down. He took in her plain black coat and lack of visible designer logos. His smile was tight and dismissive.

"Ladies," the agent said slowly, as if speaking to children. "The entry-level units in this building start at twenty million dollars. Perhaps you're looking for something in a different neighborhood?"

Vera bristled, stepping forward to yell at him, but June simply reached into her purse.

She pulled out the titanium Centurion card and dropped it onto the glass desk. It landed with a heavy, metallic clink.

The agent's eyes snapped to the card. The color drained from his face, replaced instantly by a flushed, eager red.

"I want to see the penthouse," June said, her voice flat. "Right now."

"Of course! Right this way, ma'am!" The agent practically tripped over his own feet rushing to the private elevator.

The elevator shot up to the 90th floor. When the doors opened, the view hit them like a physical blow.

Floor-to-ceiling glass wrapped around the entire apartment, offering an unobstructed, god-like view of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline.

June walked slowly to the glass. Far in the distance, she could see the faint outline of the neighborhood where the Compton estate sat. From up here, it looked like a tiny, insignificant speck.

"This unit is forty-five million," the agent babbled nervously behind her. "It includes a private infinity pool, a dedicated elevator..."

"I'll take it," June interrupted, not turning around. "The purchase will be made through a private LLC. I need the transaction to be discreet."

Vera choked on her spit. The agent gripped the back of a chair to keep from falling over.

"But I have one condition," June added, finally turning to look at him. "I move in today. Get the paperwork done now."

"I will have my legal team draft it within the hour!" the agent gasped, sprinting back to the elevator.

As they waited in the empty, echoing penthouse, June's phone vibrated in her pocket.

It was an unknown number.

June answered. "Hello?"

"Miss June?" a raspy, trembling voice came through the speaker. "It's Arthur. Your father's old driver."

June's hand gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her heart skipped a beat. "Arthur? You've been missing for ten years."

"I've been hiding," Arthur wheezed. "I saw the news about your divorce. You're no longer under the Compton roof. I think it's time I told you the truth."

June walked out onto the massive terrace, the wind howling around her. "What truth?"

"The car crash that killed your parents... it wasn't an accident," Arthur said, his voice dropping to a terrified whisper. "I checked the car the day before. The brake lines were cut."

A wave of dizziness hit June. She grabbed the glass railing to steady herself. "Who did it?"

"I saw your uncle, Richard Erickson, in the garage that night," Arthur said. "And... he was meeting with someone from a powerful family. I couldn't see his face, but he drove a car with the Compton emblem."

The blood froze in June's veins. A Compton car?

"I have proof," Arthur continued frantically. "But they found me. I need money to disappear."

"How much?" June demanded instantly. "I'll give you whatever you want."

"One hundred thousand. Cash. Meet me at the abandoned Brooklyn Navy Yard docks at midnight tonight."

The line went dead.

June stood on the balcony, the cold seeping into her bones. Her marriage hadn't just been a lie; it might have been a cage built by the people who murdered her parents.

Vera walked out onto the terrace. "Everything okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

June slowly lowered the phone. Her eyes, staring out at the city, were darker than the impending night.

"This isn't just a divorce anymore, Vera," June said, her voice vibrating with a dangerous energy. "This is a war."

The agent rushed back onto the terrace, holding a thick leather folder. "Congratulations, Miss Erickson. Welcome to your new home."

June took the heavy metal keys. They felt like weapons in her hand.

The interior of Bergdorf Goodman on Fifth Avenue was a sanctuary of wealth.

June needed clothes. She needed armor for the meeting tonight and the corporate battles she was about to wage.

She walked into the high-end designer boutique on the third floor. Her eyes landed on a stunning, razor-sharp black velvet evening gown. It was ruthless and elegant.

Just as June reached out to touch the fabric, another hand shot out and grabbed the hanger.

"Oh, this is perfect for the charity gala tomorrow night," a sickeningly sweet voice chirped.

June turned her head.

Alycia was standing there, clinging tightly to Cole's arm.

Cole's eyes locked onto June. For a split second, a flash of surprise and undeniable attraction crossed his face. June looked different-her posture was straight, her aura commanding. But the attraction quickly morphed into deep annoyance.

"What are you doing here, June?" Cole demanded, his voice hard. "Are you stalking us?"

Alycia gasped, putting a hand over her mouth in fake shock. "June! I didn't see you. But... this dress is five thousand dollars. Are you sure you're in the right store?"

Cole adjusted his cuffs, looking at June with pity. "Stop embarrassing yourself, June. I cut off your cards this morning. You can't afford a pair of socks in this building."

The sales associate, a tall woman with a severe bun, stepped forward. She looked at Cole's custom suit, then at June's plain coat. The bias was immediate.

"Excuse me, miss," the associate said to June, her tone dripping with condescension. "That piece is a limited edition. If you aren't purchasing, please refrain from touching the velvet. It damages easily."

June let her hand drop, a cool, unbothered expression on her face. She simply watched them.

Cole let out a harsh laugh. "See? She knows she can't afford it. Don't expect me to bail you out when you try to shoplift."

Alycia tugged on Cole's sleeve, pouting. "Cole, I really want it. Please?"

Cole pulled out his solid gold credit card and handed it to the associate. "Ring it up for Alycia."

As the associate took the card, Cole shot June a final, triumphant smirk. "This is how real money works, June. Maybe you'll learn one day." He wrapped an arm around Alycia, guiding her toward the exit. "Let's go, darling. We've wasted enough time here."

June waited until the sound of their laughter faded down the hall. Then, she turned back to the associate, who was walking toward the register.

"Excuse me," June said quietly.

The associate turned, annoyed. "What is it now?"

June's expression remained entirely blank. She reached into her purse, pulled out the titanium Centurion black card between her index and middle finger, and held it out.

The associate looked at the black card. Her eyes widened so drastically she looked like she was choking. The arrogant posture vanished instantly, replaced by a trembling, terrified bow.

"A... a Centurion," the associate stammered, her hands shaking as she carefully took the card from June. "My deepest apologies, Miss... My apologies. How may I help you?"

June's gaze swept over the entire boutique.

"That dress he was about to buy. And that one. That one. And the entire row of suits. I'll take them all. Have them delivered to my penthouse on Billionaires' Row."

The associate's jaw dropped. She nodded frantically, rushing to countermand the previous sale and gather the items.

A few minutes later, the associate returned, handing the card and a receipt to June with both hands. "Thank you for your purchase, ma'am. It will all be delivered within the hour."

Outside on Fifth Avenue, June took a deep breath of the freezing air. Using her own money to quietly erase their victory felt better than any shouting match.