Kevin kicked the heavy walnut door. The wood groaned under his expensive leather shoe.

"Useless freak," Kevin muttered loudly outside. His footsteps finally echoed down the hallway as he walked away to answer his ringing phone.

Inside the dark cloakroom, Isidora shoved Cedrick's chest with all her strength.

This time, he let her push him.

Her fingers shook violently as she fumbled to button the collar of her dress that had twisted in his grip.

"Psychopath," Isidora hissed under her breath.

She didn't wait for his reaction. She grabbed the door handle, unlocked it, and practically ran out into the brightly lit corridor.

Cedrick remained standing in the dark. He slowly raised his hand, his thumb rubbing the lingering scent of iris off his skin. His eyes were pitch black, calculating and lethal. He adjusted his cuffs and stepped out of the room.

Isidora power-walked toward the side lounge, trying to calm her racing pulse.

As she turned the corner, she froze.

Chantelle, wearing a scandalous red silk dress, was standing in the middle of the lounge. Two security guards were trying to block her from entering the main ballroom.

A crowd of socialites had already gathered, their eyes wide with gossip.

Kevin pushed through the crowd. He shoved one of the guards hard in the chest and wrapped his arms protectively around Chantelle.

Chantelle buried her face in Kevin's chest. She pointed a manicured finger directly at Isidora, who had just walked in.

"Kevin, she threatened me!" Chantelle sobbed loudly. "She sent me a text saying if I didn't leave you, she would hire someone to throw acid on my face!"

It was a blatant, ridiculous lie. But the crowd gasped. Whispers of "vicious" and "psycho" rippled through the socialites.

Kevin's face twisted into pure rage. He let go of Chantelle and marched straight toward Isidora.

He raised his hand high, fully intending to slap her across the face in front of everyone.

Isidora didn't flinch. She didn't blink. She stared directly into Kevin's eyes with a look so cold and dead that Kevin's hand froze mid-air.

"You disgusting, ugly bitch," Kevin spat, lowering his hand but raising his voice. "You think your cheap threats will make Chantelle leave? Look at yourself! You look like a rotting corpse. If it wasn't for the trust fund, the thought of touching you would make me vomit!"

The socialites laughed out loud. The humiliation was absolute.

Isidora looked past Kevin. Her father, Arsenio, was standing at the back of the crowd. He didn't step forward to defend his daughter. He just looked at her with deep disgust, his eyes filled with absolute fury. He was violently embarrassed that her inability to control the situation was publicly jeopardizing the Wyatt-Garrison merger and threatening millions in corporate assets.

Isidora stood alone under the chandelier. Her spine was perfectly straight. Behind her thick glasses, there were no tears.

She slowly slipped her hand into her clutch purse. Her thumb found the home button of her phone. She unlocked it blindly.

Just as she was about to press the screen, a cold, mocking laugh echoed from the marble pillars.

Cedrick stepped out of the shadows. He had one hand in his pocket. The sheer weight of his presence instantly silenced the laughing crowd.

He walked slowly toward Kevin. His eyes flicked to Chantelle, stripping her down to nothing with a single look.

"Since when do the men of the Garrison family behave like dogs in heat in public?" Cedrick's voice was quiet, but it carried a lethal threat.

Kevin swallowed hard, his face turning pale. "Uncle Cedrick, this woman, she-"

"Shut your mouth," Cedrick cut him off. "You turn a private family engagement into a public circus over a woman you can buy for ten dollars on Hollywood Boulevard?" Cedrick's gaze didn't even flicker toward Isidora. His wrath was entirely focused on his nephew's incompetence. "You are bleeding the Garrison name dry in front of Wall Street."

Chantelle gasped, her face turning bright red. She opened her mouth to scream, but one look at Cedrick's dead eyes made her snap her mouth shut.

Isidora looked at Cedrick in shock. Why was the man who had just assaulted her in a closet stepping in now?

Cedrick caught her looking. He tilted his head slightly. A dark, amused glint flashed in his eyes.

He wasn't helping her. He was enjoying the show. He wanted to see what the "ugly, scheming woman" would do next.

Cedrick turned to Hyman, who had just arrived, sweating profusely.

"End this circus," Cedrick ordered. "I want the official toast to begin in the main ballroom in exactly ten minutes. Do not make me wait."

The security guards aggressively herded the whispering guests back to their assigned seats in the grand ballroom. The circus in the lounge was temporarily swept under the rug.

On the second floor, behind a wall of one-way glass, Cedrick sat in the private cigar lounge.

His assistant, Jarvis, clipped a Cuban cigar and lit it for him.

Cedrick took a slow drag. The thick, blue-gray smoke curled around his face. His eyes were locked onto the floor below, tracking Isidora as she stood alone in the shadows near the back of the room.

He remembered his childhood in the Garrison estate. The cold floors. The hunger. The way these same hypocritical family members had driven his mother to her grave.

The heavy oak door opened. Hyman Garrison walked in, wiping his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

Hyman walked over and placed a leather folder on the table. "Cedrick, this is the final merger agreement. Once the toast is done, the Wyatt shipping lines will officially merge with our portfolio."

Cedrick didn't even glance at the folder. He tapped his ash into the crystal tray.

"You're willing to let the heir of this family marry the laughingstock of New York for a few rusty cargo ships?" Cedrick asked, his voice flat.

Hyman swallowed hard. "Isidora is... plain. Yes. But she is obedient. She is easy to control. Kevin will have his fun and settle down eventually."

Obedient.

Cedrick thought of the sharp claws she had bared in the cloakroom. He thought of the burning heat of her skin last night. A dark, mocking smile touched his lips.

"Obedient," Cedrick repeated. He stood up and walked to the glass. "Hyman, your biggest failure in life is that you can never tell the difference between the prey and the predator."

Hyman looked confused. "The PR team has bought off the press. The scandal won't leak. But we need you to lead the toast to calm the Wall Street investors."

Cedrick crushed the cigar into the ashtray.

"I didn't come back to New York to clean up your shit," Cedrick said coldly. He walked toward the door. "But this party is getting interesting. I'll do the toast."

Downstairs, Isidora was locked inside a bathroom stall.

Her fingers flew across her phone screen. Using a hidden VPN node, she bypassed the hotel's firewall. She hacked directly into The Pierre's central Audio-Visual control system.

It took her less than two minutes.

She uploaded the high-definition video file she had recorded in the Plaza suite. She set it as the primary, un-skippable source for the main LED screen.

Isidora looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The ugly glasses. The fake freckles.

She smiled. It was a terrifying, destructive smile.

She walked out of the bathroom, grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and walked to the very front row of the ballroom.

On stage, the MC tapped the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the head of the Garrison family, Mr. Cedrick Garrison, for the toast!"

The room erupted into applause.

Cedrick walked onto the stage. He took the microphone.

His eyes scanned the crowd and immediately locked onto Isidora in the front row.

Isidora raised her champagne glass. She looked right at him, her eyes completely devoid of fear. There was only the manic energy of someone about to burn the house down.

Cedrick's instincts flared. Her eyes were too bright. She looked like a woman holding a lit match over a barrel of gasoline.

He looked at the teleprompter, then ignored it.

A slow smirk spread across his face. He leaned into the microphone.

"Tonight," Cedrick said, his voice echoing through the massive room, "is going to be a night no one forgets."

The second the words left his mouth, Isidora's thumb pressed the "Execute" button on her phone screen.

The massive LED screen behind Cedrick, which had been displaying the Garrison family crest, suddenly went pitch black.

A second of dead silence passed.

Then, the screen violently flashed back to life.

A deafening, high-pitched moan blasted through the Dolby surround sound speakers.

The entire ballroom was hit with the crystal-clear, ten-foot-tall image of Kevin's naked body thrusting into Chantelle on the hotel bed.

The wet, slapping sounds of skin against skin echoed off the vaulted ceiling of the ballroom. The audio was so loud it vibrated the crystal glasses on the tables.

An elderly socialite in the front row dropped her champagne glass. It shattered against the marble floor.

For three agonizing seconds, the hundreds of Wall Street elites, politicians, and socialites were frozen in absolute, horrified silence.

Then, the room exploded.

Kevin, who was standing near the front table with a smug smile, turned into a statue. The blood drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse. He stared at his own naked ass bouncing on the ten-foot screen.

In the back corner, Chantelle let out a blood-curdling scream. She threw her hands over her face and dropped to her knees.

Hyman snapped out of his shock. He sprinted toward the soundboard like a madman.

"Turn it off! Cut the power right fucking now!" Hyman roared, grabbing the sound engineer by the collar.

The engineer slammed his hands against the keyboard, his face pale with panic. "I can't! The system is locked from the outside! It's a hard override!"

On the screen, Kevin's voice boomed through the speakers.

"That disgusting, ugly freak... the thought of touching her makes me sick. You're so much tighter..."

The words hung in the air, completely destroying whatever dignity the Garrison and Wyatt families had left.

Camera flashes erupted like a strobe light. The financial journalists in the room, smelling blood in the water, aggressively snapped photos of the screen and Kevin's horrified face.

Arsenio Wyatt's face turned a violent shade of purple. The humiliation was too much. He marched up to Kevin, pulled his arm back, and slapped him across the face with a sickening crack.

"You piece of shit!" Arsenio screamed. "This is how you treat my family?"

Kevin stumbled back, clutching his bleeding lip. He didn't fight back. He ripped off his suit jacket.

Chantelle, realizing she was about to be eaten alive by the press, rolled her eyes back and collapsed onto the floor, faking a dead faint.

Kevin grabbed her, wrapped his jacket around her head, and dragged her out the side door, fleeing the room like a beaten dog.

In the middle of the chaos, Isidora stood perfectly still.

She lowered her head. Her shoulders began to shake gently. To everyone else, she looked like a heartbroken, humiliated woman crying silently.

But from the stage, Cedrick could see her perfectly.

She wasn't crying. The corners of her lips were curled upward in a cold, victorious smile.

Cedrick's grip on the microphone tightened. His blood ran hot. The sheer audacity of this woman was intoxicating.

Hyman, realizing the computer was useless, grabbed a heavy metal barstool. He swung it with all his might and smashed it directly into the center of the LED screen.

Sparks flew. The glass shattered. The screen finally went black, but the moaning audio continued to echo for another ten seconds before dying out.

Hyman turned around, chest heaving, facing a room full of disgusted investors.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a malicious cyber attack..." Hyman tried to say, his voice cracking.

No one cared. Three major hedge fund managers stood up, buttoned their jackets, and walked out without a word. The Garrison stock was going to bleed tomorrow.

Arsenio walked over to Isidora. He didn't hug her. He leaned in, his eyes filled with venom.

"Don't think I don't know this was you," Arsenio hissed. "You better pray this merger doesn't fall through, or I will end you."

Isidora looked up, her fake tears gone. "I just showed them the truth."

On stage, Cedrick tossed the microphone to the floor. He walked down the steps, his bodyguards flanking him.

He walked straight toward Isidora, his massive frame blocking Arsenio's view.

Cedrick leaned down. His lips brushed against her ear.

"Beautifully done, Miss Wyatt," Cedrick whispered, his voice dark and dangerous. "But are you ready to pay the price?"