The moment Nora Sterling saw her husband rest his hand on another woman’s waist, she stopped wondering whether her seven-year marriage could still be rescued.

Forty-eight hours after the gala, the emergency boardroom of Sterling-Vance was bathed in tense, fluorescent light. Julian sat at the head of the table, dark circles under his eyes, his stubble thick and unkempt. Across from him sat Camille, newly appointed to the executive committee, and Eleanor, wearing an icy tailored Chanel suit.

“The press is relentless,” Eleanor said, rapping her manicured nails on the glass table. “The stock dipped four points this morning. We need to execute the emergency clause to absorb Nora’s shares before her lawyers file in court.”

“I won’t do it,” Julian said hoarsely. “I’m flying to Washington. I found a wire transfer from an old trust in her maiden name.”

“You will sit down and sign,” Camille snapped, sliding the acquisition parchment toward him. “We have the votes. Your personal guilt is not going to bankrupt this firm.”

Before Julian could answer, the frosted glass doors swung open. Marcus Vance walked in, flanked by two senior forensic auditors from the Department of Justice.

“I’m afraid Miss Laurent’s vote is completely invalid,” Marcus announced calmly, stepping up to the projector screen. He inserted an encrypted USB drive, and the wall-mounted monitors lit up with corporate registries.

“As of midnight, seventy-two hours ago, the entirety of Vance Industries' voting block has been seized by the majority trustee,” Marcus declared. “Every transaction executed by Eleanor Sterling and Camille Laurent over the past eight fiscal quarters is currently undergoing criminal audit.”