The first thing my mother said to me at my younger sister's wedding wasn't "I'm glad you came" or "You look beautiful" or even "How is my granddaughte

The next morning, the Aspen sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Julian’s private mountainside chalet, illuminating a room filled with rustic luxury and modern minimalism. Emma was fast asleep in one of the guest suites, exhausted from the emotional turbulence of the previous day, her little hand still clutching the crayons the waitress had given her.

I sat at a massive reclaimed-wood dining table, sipping a cup of dark roast coffee while Julian paced near the window, a secure satellite phone pressed to his ear.

"Execute Phase One," Julian commanded into the receiver, his voice cold and crisp. "I want every preliminary audit report on Sterling Energy's current pipeline pulled up on my desk by noon. And make sure our legal team in Dallas reviews their compliance records regarding the West Texas drilling permits. If there are irregularities, I want them highlighted in red."

He clicked the phone off and tossed it onto the table, sliding into the chair opposite me. He poured himself a cup of coffee, studying me intently.

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked softly.

"A little," I admitted, wrapping both hands around my mug for warmth. "Julian, are you sure about this? Using your company to go after Ethan Sterling? What if my parents find out?"

Julian leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Hannah, let's get one thing straight. I am not doing this purely out of spite—though I won't deny the satisfaction. Sterling Energy is a predatory firm with a history of shady environmental practices and inflated stock valuations. My board has been hesitant to touch them because of their political connections in Texas. But a deep-dive audit is entirely standard procedure for a merger of this scale. All I am doing is accelerating the timeline."

"And Madison?" I asked, a knot forming in my stomach. "How does this affect her?"

"Madison chose to marry a man whose entire financial empire is built on leveraged debt and smoke-and-mirrors expansion," Julian said matter-of-factly. "Ethan Sterling wanted to marry into high society to legitimize his brand. When his company’s stock takes a hit—and it will, once our compliance review goes public—the high-society doors they worked so hard to open will slam shut very quickly."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed on the wooden table. I glanced down, expecting a barrage of angry texts from my mother or father demanding to know why I hadn't answered their calls. Instead, the notification was a news alert from a financial news app:

BREAKING: Sterling Energy Shares Drop 4.2% Following Rumors of Federal Compliance Review.

I stared at the screen, my eyes widening. I looked up at Julian, who simply raised his coffee mug in a silent, mocking toast.

"That was just the opening salvo," Julian said smoothly. "By tomorrow, the market will realize that Vance Global is pulling out of our preliminary partnership talks with them. And by the end of the week, Ethan Sterling's glittering new life is going to face a very harsh reality check."

As if on cue, my phone rang. The caller ID flashed Mother.

I stared at the glowing screen as it vibrated against the wood, the rhythmic buzzing sounding like a trapped insect. For five years, that name had caused my stomach to knot with anxiety and dread. Every call meant criticism, subtle reminders of my inadequacy, or demands that I keep out of sight so as not to ruin the family's pristine image.