The moment Celeste Moretti shoved the housekeeper into the illuminated infinity pool, seventy high-society guests watched the drenched woman plunge into the freezing depths—and almost every one of them chuckled.

With the primary conspirators in federal chains, Dante turned his piercing attention back toward the seventy high-society guests trapped in the grand ballroom.

The room was completely silent, the billionaires and socialites standing with their heads bowed, terrified of what their punishment would be.

Dante walked down the center aisle, stopping at the main entrance, where Arthur Montgomery stood holding a stack of legal forfeiture decrees.

“Each of you came to this estate tonight believing that wealth was a license to treat human dignity like dirt on your shoes,” Dante addressed the room.

“You watched a grieving mother get shoved into freezing water, and you laughed behind your champagne flutes because you thought she was powerless.”

He gestured toward the open bronze doors leading out onto the rainy driveway.

“Every business contract, municipal lease, and investment partnership between your firms and the Moretti-Vance Conglomerate is permanently terminated as of midnight tonight.”

Gasps of horror and despair rippled through the corporate executives, who realized that being blacklisted by Dante meant total financial ruin in New York and Chicago.

“Furthermore,” Dante continued, his voice hardening into unyielding diamond, “if any person in this room ever speaks Elena Vance’s name with disrespect, I will personally buy your debt and liquidate your homes before the sun sets.”

“Now take your coats, walk down my driveway in the rain, and never set foot on this property again.”

The seventy high-society elites did not utter a single word of protest.

Billionaires in soaked tuxedos and socialites in ruined designer dresses hurried through the grand double doors, walking with their heads down into the dark, rainy night.

The luxury sports cars and limousines had been ordered to wait outside the outer gates, forcing the pampered elites to hike a mile through the wet mud to reach their transport.

Elena stood on the terrace balcony, watching the long line of disgraced elites trudging through the storm, feeling the fourteen months of suffocating shame wash away forever.

Dante walked up beside her, gently placing his hand over hers on the marble railing.