The sound of snapping bone echoed through the vaulted arches of Saint Jude’s Cathedral, far louder than the screeching pipe organ had been seconds prior.

One year later.

The Mediterranean sun warmed the cliffs of Marbella, Spain. The ocean roared softly below the white marble terrace of my newly renovated villa—the very property where the nightmare had once begun, now transformed into a serene retreat.

Five hundred guests were gathered on the manicured green lawns overlooking the sea. But this was not a high-society networking event filled with corrupt elites and fake smiles. These were true friends, global humanitarians, restored survivors, my dedicated security team, and loved ones.

I stood near the edge of the terrace wearing a stunning, custom red silk dress that flowed gracefully in the warm coastal wind.

Gabriel stood beside me, holding a glass of champagne, his arm gently wrapped around my waist. Beside us sat Marcus and Señor Alvarez, laughing as they toasted to the record success of our global foundations.

"Look at you," Gabriel whispered in my ear, pulling me slightly closer. "A year ago, they tried to take your life. Today, you own the sky."

I looked down at my hands. The bloody knuckles and blisters from the cathedral altar were long healed, leaving behind soft, unblemished skin. I took a sip of champagne, feeling the warm sunlight bathe my face.

I had destroyed an empire of monsters with a single kick, exposed an international syndicate on live television, restored my father's honor, and reclaimed every cent of my life.

I smiled, leaning my head against Gabriel's shoulder as the sun began to set over the golden waters of the Mediterranean.