It was nearly two in the morning when Leo’s scream tore through the mansion.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the polished marble floor of the Sterling Enterprises executive boardroom on the fiftieth floor. The room was vast, silent, and filled with tension so thick it felt tangible.

At the head of the mahogany table sat me. To my left, Marcus and two federal agents were concealed in the adjoining private office, monitoring every camera feed and audio channel. Clara was at the pediatric clinic with Leo, who was recovering nicely and finally sleeping peacefully without nightmares.

At precisely ten o'clock, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom opened.

Richard Vance strode inside, wearing an expensive tailored suit, a smug, triumphant smile plastered across his face. Behind him walked two corporate lawyers he had hired to execute the fraudulent share transfer.

“James,” Richard greeted smoothly, sliding into a chair opposite me without waiting for an invitation. “I must say, I’m surprised you requested this meeting. After all this time, I thought you’d finally learned when to fold your hand.”

I didn't smile. I kept my face as cold and unreadable as stone. “Save the corporate theater, Richard. We both know why you’re here.”

Richard chuckled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “Ah, cutting straight to business. Good. Then you know that your empire is effectively partitioned. With Victoria’s help, your focus was fractured, your defense was shattered, and your company is ripe for restructuring.”

“Victoria,” I repeated, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. “You mean the woman you hired, paid, and manipulated to poison my six-year-old son?”

Richard’s smile flickered for a split second, but he quickly recovered, adjusting his cuffs. “Prove it, James. Words without evidence mean nothing in a court of law. And these transfer papers on your desk? They’re legally binding once signed.”

“You’re right, Richard,” I said calmly. “Words mean nothing. But audio recordings, decrypted emails, bank transfer receipts, and federal confessions mean everything.”

I reached out and pressed a button on the intercom console.

Instantly, the speakers in the boardroom broadcasted a crystal-clear recording of Victoria’s detailed confession, outlining every dollar Richard paid her, every instruction he gave regarding the toxic binding pillow, and the exact corporate conspiracy to steal Sterling Enterprises.

Richard’s face drained of all color. The smug smile vanished, replaced by a mask of sheer panic. He stood up abruptly, knocking his chair backward against the floor.

“That’s—that’s a fabricated deepfake!” Richard stammered, his voice cracking. “You’re trying to frame me!”

“Is it?”

The connecting office door swung wide open. Federal agents streamed into the boardroom, badges gleaming in the morning light, alongside Marcus holding a secured digital drive containing every piece of financial evidence linking Richard’s offshore accounts directly to the conspiracy.

“Richard Vance,” the lead federal agent announced, stepping forward and clamping steel handcuffs around my former brother-in-law's wrists. “You are under arrest for conspiracy, corporate espionage, and child endangerment. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Richard thrashed as they forced him down, glaring at me with pure venom. “You can’t do this, James! I’m family! I’ll ruin you!”