I never wanted to be on that staircase.

“You’re a monster,” Althia breathed, pointing a shaking, manicured finger at Alden. “You coward! You spineless coward! You were nothing before you met my daughter! We gave you access to our social circle! We made you relevant!”

Alden didn't even blink. He looked at Althia with the detached pity one might give to a rabid dog behind a chain-link fence. “Your social circle consists of maxed-out credit cards, leased BMWs, and an endless cycle of emotional abuse. My family paid sixty thousand dollars toward this farce of a weekend. My father has already instructed his bank to issue a stop-payment on every single vendor check. Good luck settling the bill, Althia.”

“Wait!” Sutton shrieked, lunging toward Alden, her silk robe billowing around her. “Alden, wait! That audio is out of context! It was a joke! Fallon and I always joke like that! We were playing around! Fallon, tell him! Tell him we were just playing!”

She turned toward my wheelchair, dropping to her knees on the marble floor, her manicured hands reaching for my cast.

“Don't touch me,” I said.

The authority in my voice was so absolute that Sutton recoiled as if she had been burned.

“You never played with me, Sutton,” I said, looking down at her from the wheelchair. “When I was twelve and broke my wrist falling out of the treehouse, you told the neighbors I did it because I was clumsy and stupid, then you took the cast markers and drew pigs all over my arm. When I got my first job, you told the manager I was stealing tips so you could get hired instead. And yesterday, you looked at a woman who had just undergone major knee surgery, calculated the viral potential of my pain, and shoved me down a flight of marble stairs.”

“It was an accident!” Sutton wept, her tears finally real—not out of remorse, but out of the sheer, terrifying realization that her empire of smoke and mirrors was collapsing around her ears. “I swear it was an accident! Briany, tell them!”

Briany, who had been cowering in the corner by the terrace doors, shook her head frantically, clutching her phone to her chest. “Don't bring me into this, Sutton! You told me you were going to nudge her! You told me it would look like a clumsy slip! You never said she was going to break her leg!”

“Briany, you treacherous little bitch!” Althia screamed, turning on her niece.

“Enough!” Detective Briggs roared. The sheer volume of his voice rattled the crystal chandeliers.

He tightened his grip on Stellin’s handcuffed arm, pulling my father toward the doorway. Stellin was weeping now, large, pathetic tears tracking through the sweat on his wrinkled cheeks.

“Fallon, please,” Stellin whimpered, looking back over his shoulder. “I’m your father. I gave you life. You can’t let them take me to jail. I have high blood pressure! I won’t survive central booking!”

“You should have thought about your blood pressure before you committed three felonies to buy truffles and drone footage,” Vesper said without looking up from her tablet. “Detective Briggs, transport the prisoner. The formal charging documents have already been electronically filed with the county magistrate.”

As Detective Briggs marched Stellin out of the suite, the second officer remained by the door.

“Ms. Sutton Vance?” the officer said, pulling a second folded document from his tactical vest.

Sutton froze on the floor, looking up at him through her smudged eyeliner. “What? What now?”

“This is an emergency civil protective order, combined with a summons for deposition regarding an intentional tort,” the officer said, dropping the document onto the floor in front of her knees. “You are legally barred from contacting Fallon Vance directly, indirectly, or through third parties. You are prohibited from coming within five hundred feet of her residence, her place of employment, or any medical facility where she is receiving treatment. Furthermore, you are formally notified that an active criminal investigation into Aggravated Battery is currently underway by the State Attorney’s Office.”

Sutton stared at the paper lying on the white marble.

“My sponsors...” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “The 11:00 AM live stream... they’re already waiting in the virtual green room.”

“Oh, don't worry, Sutton,” Vesper said, shutting her laptop and standing up with a radiant, predatory smile. “The live stream is still going to happen. In fact, Maya has already connected the ballroom feed to the master broadcast switchboard.”

Vesper looked down at me. “Fallon, the guests are seated in the courtyard. Shall we go greet them?”

I took a deep, steadying breath. The throbbing in my knee was fierce, but the suffocating weight that had rested on my chest for thirty-four years had vanished.