I smiled. It was a terrifying, feral thing. I didn’t pull away. I simply raised
my hand and pointed toward the massive double doors at the back of the hall.

“I wouldn’t touch me,” I whispered to the guard, my eyes never leaving Marcus’s
face. “Because if you do, you’ll be obstructing a federal raid.”

Before Marcus could process the words, the heavy oak doors of the Vale Auction
House exploded open with a deafening crash.

“FBI! Nobody move! Hands where we can see them!”

A dozen federal agents, clad in tactical gear, flooded the elegant hall. The
contrast was violently beautiful—the brutal, utilitarian black armor of the law
clashing against the delicate silk and diamonds of high society.

Panic erupted. Socialites shrieked, dropping crystal champagne flutes that
shattered on the marble floor. The men with cold eyes immediately began reaching
for their phones, desperate to contact their fixers, but agents were already
moving through the crowd, confiscating devices.

Special Agent Vance marched down the aisle, his badge held high, his eyes locked
on the podium.

Marcus stood paralyzed, the gavel slipping from his grasp and clattering to the
floor. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice cracking, the
facade of power crumbling into dust. “Do you know who I am? I am the CEO of
Vale—”

“You’re a fraud, Mr. Sterling,” Agent Vance barked, stepping onto the stage.
“You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit wire fraud, money laundering, and
the sale of forged antiquities.”

“You have no proof!” Marcus yelled, his face flushing a violent shade of purple.
He pointed a shaking finger at me. “She set this up! She’s a convicted felon!
She’s a liar!”

“No, Marcus,” I said, my voice cutting through the chaos like a diamond blade. I
pulled a small remote from my clutch purse. Celeste had hacked into the AV
system ten minutes ago. “I’m just a really good accountant.”

I pressed the button.

The massive digital screen behind the podium, which was meant to project the

bidding increments, flashed to life.