The world was a cacophony of flashing lights and shouted questions. Christian Ethan stood frozen, a statue in the eye of a media hurricane. But he heard none of it. Saw none of them. All he saw was the back of Scarlett’s head as she slid into the gleaming black Maybach, disappearing behind tinted glass. Her gaze. It haunted him. Not the meek, downcast look of the maid he’d tormented for a year. Not the hurt, betrayed eyes of the woman who had genuinely cared for his wounds. It was the gaze of an empress looking at an insect. Cold. Indifferent. Utterly dismissive. “Mr. Ethan! Is it true you faked your paralysis?” “Who was that woman? Ms. Avery? Is she the heir to the Avery oil fortune?” That name again. Avery. It echoed in the hollow space where his heart used to be. The regret was a physical poison, burning through his veins. He had been a fool. A blind, arrogant fool. “Get me out of here,” he snarled to his security, his voice a low growl of pure Alpha command. They formed a human wall, pushing through the frenzied reporters and guiding him to his own car. The moment the door slammed shut, silence descended. Christian ripped his tie loose, his knuckles white. The betrayal wasn't just Scarlett’s supposed espionage. The real betrayal had been festering right under his nose. Chloe Vance. Her tear-streaked face, her whispers of seduction, her carefully crafted lies painting Scarlett as a villain. It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Karma was coming for her. And he would be its merciless agent. He pulled out his phone, his thumb jabbing the screen. “Mark,” he barked when his head of security answered. “I want everything you can find on Chloe Vance. Every text, every call, every financial transaction for the last two years. I want to know who she talked to, who she paid, who she breathed on. You have one hour.” He didn't wait for a reply, ending the call and dialing another number. “Asset liquidation. Start with every stock, every bond, every holding connected to Vance Industries. Short them. Drive the price into the ground. I want them bankrupt by sunrise.” The orders left his lips like ice shards. This wasn't business. This was extermination. For the next hour, Christian’s penthouse became a war room. Data streamed across a dozen screens. His team, the best money could buy, moved with silent, lethal efficiency. And the truth they uncovered was uglier than he could have ever imagined. Bank transfers to shell corporations. Burner phone records. A grainy audio file of a low-level thug confessing. It was all there. Chloe hadn't just framed Scarlett for planting a tracker. She had orchestrated everything. “Sir,” Mark said, his face grim as he pointed to a heavily encrypted file. “We broke it. This is from the time of your assassination attempt.” Christian’s blood ran cold. He leaned forward, his eyes scanning the decoded messages. Instructions. Payments. A blueprint of the route his car was supposed to take that fateful day. The final payment was sent from an offshore account linked directly to Chloe Vance. She hadn't just lied to him. She had tried to kill him. The rage that filled him was a pure, cold fury. He stood up, his movements sharp and precise. “Where is she now?” “The Vance family is holding a press conference at the Grand Hyatt,” Mark reported. “They’re trying to do damage control. Rumor is, she’s about to announce your engagement.” A humorless, predatory smile touched Christian’s lips. “Perfect. Get the FBI on the line. Tell them I have evidence of a conspiracy to commit murder. And prepare the screens at the Hyatt. I want everyone to see the show.” The Grand Hyatt ballroom was a circus. Chloe Vance stood at the podium, dressed in an angelic white gown, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. Her father, a portly, arrogant man, stood beside her, beaming. “Christian is a victim in all ofthis,” Chloe said, her voice trembling beautifully. “That horrible woman, Scarlett, deceived him, manipulated him… But our love is stronger than her lies. And soon, I will be Mrs. Christian Ethan, and we will put this nightmare behind us.” Just as the reporters erupted into a frenzy, the ballroom doors swung open. Christian Ethan walked in. He didn't look angry. He looked serene. It was the terrifying calm of a predator that knows the hunt is over. Chloe’s face lit up. “Christian! Darling!” She ran towards him, arms outstretched. He didn't even look at her. He walked past her as if she were a ghost, his eyes fixed on the giant screens behind the podium. “Roll the footage,” he commanded into his watch. The screens flickered to life. Bank statements. Encrypted messages. And then, a chilling audio recording filled the silent room. Chloe’s voice, sharp and cruel, giving orders to a hired goon. “...make sure the brakes fail. I want him crippled or dead. Then the Ethan empire, and Christian, will be all mine.” Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Every camera swiveled from Christian to Chloe. Her face, once a mask of angelic innocence, had collapsed into a canvas of pure horror. The seduction was gone, replaced by raw, primal fear. “No… no, that’s fake! It’s all lies!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “Christian, darling, tell them! It was Scarlett! It was always her!” Christian finally turned to look at her. His gaze was devoid of all emotion. “You tried to murder me. You framed an innocent woman. You are the most pathetic creature I have ever had the misfortune of knowing.” As if on cue, the side doors burst open and a team of FBI agents marched in, their faces hard. “Chloe Vance,” the lead agent announced, his voice booming. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and multiple federal crimes.” The click of handcuffs snapping around her wrists was the loudest sound in the room. She was dragged away, screaming and sobbing, her white gown trailing in the dust. Her father lunged at Christian. “You will pay for this, Ethan! The Vance family will crush you!” Christian didn't even flinch. He checked his watch. “As of three minutes ago, Vance Industries filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy. Your assets are frozen. Your accounts are empty. I own your company. I own your home. I own you.” Mr. Vance staggered back, his face turning ashen, and collapsed. The room was chaos. But Christian felt nothing. No victory. No satisfaction. Just a vast, aching emptiness. This petty revenge did nothing to fix the gaping wound in his soul. It didn't bring Scarlett back. He turned and walked out, leaving the ruins of the Vance family behind him. As he stepped into the night air, his phone vibrated. It was Mark. “Sir, we cross-referenced the name ‘Avery’ with the hostile takeover bid against Ethan Corp,” Mark’s voice was tense. “The source of the funds is an untraceable entity. But we found the code name of the Alpha investor leading the charge.” Christian stopped dead on the sidewalk. “And?” “Sir… the code name is ‘Rosewood’.”

Chapter 11: Destroying the Vance Family