The thirtieth strike burned across my skin as Vanessa stood beneath the chandelier, smiling in her ruined silver designer dress.

By seven o'clock the following morning, the downfall of the Cole family was the lead story on every major news network in the country.

COLE GLOBAL INFRASTRUCTURE COLLAPSES AMID FEDERAL FRAUD INVESTIGATION read the headline on the Financial Times.

PROMINENT SOCIALITE ADRIAN COLE ARRESTED FOR FELONY ASSAULT AND CORPORATE FRAUD proclaimed the front page of the city herald.

In the living room of Dominic's estate, the large television screens played continuous coverage of the scandal. Footage from the previous night showed federal agents escorting a handcuffed Adrian Cole out of his mansion, his wine-stained tuxedo crumpled, his head hung low as reporters shouted questions at him.

Behind him, his mother, Margaret, was weeping into her designer scarf while an officer guided her into the back of a police cruiser for questioning regarding offshore financial accounts.

Nico walked into the room carrying a tray of fresh coffee and pastries, setting it on the glass table.

"Vanessa Hart's bail was set at two million dollars," Nico reported, taking a seat across from me. "Her attorney tried to argue she was an innocent bystander, but Gabriel leaked her banking records showing she received over eight hundred thousand dollars in embezzled funds from Adrian's corporate account over the last six months."

"What about Richard Cole?" I asked, taking a slow sip of coffee.

"Richard's in medical holding at the federal detention center," Luca answered as he stepped into the room wearing a sharp charcoal suit. "His blood pressure spiked during his booking. The prosecutors are filing sixteen counts of wire fraud, bribery, and structural endangerment against him. He's looking at twenty to thirty years in federal prison."

My phone buzzed on the table. It was an unknown number.

I pressed speakerphone. "Hello?"

"Elena... please..."

It was Adrian's voice, raspy, trembling, and desperate, speaking from the holding cell telephone at the precinct.

"Elena, you have to talk to your brothers," Adrian begged, his voice cracking with panic. "They're destroying everything! My father had a heart attack! The bank seized all our accounts! I can't even pay my bail!"

"You should have thought about your bail before you tied me to a beam, Adrian," I replied coldly.

"I was crazy! I was drunk! Vanessa persuaded me to do it—she told me you were trying to ruin my reputation!" Adrian whimpered over the static-filled line. "I love you, Elena! We can fix this! Just tell your lawyer to withdraw the assault charges!"

Luca leaned down toward the phone, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Listen to me very carefully, Adrian. This is Luca Moretti. If you ever dial this number again, or if you even whisper my sister's name to another inmate in that facility, I will personally ensure that your civil defense fund is frozen for the next twenty years. You will face trial with a court-appointed public defender."

A terrified gasp came from the other end of the line.

"Elena... please don't do this to me..." Adrian sobbed.

I reached out and ended the call.

I looked at my five brothers standing around me. For three years, I had thought I was alone, hiding my pain to protect them from returning to a world of conflict. But seeing them now, I realized that true strength wasn't enduring abuse in silence; it was knowing when to stand up and let the people who love you fight by your side.

"Gabriel," I said, turning to my brother. "Where are the Cole family's remaining physical assets held?"

Gabriel checked his screen. "They have a private estate in Aspen, a penthouse in Manhattan, and a fleet of luxury vehicles currently held under their primary holding company."

"Liquidate everything," I commanded quietly. "Sell the properties, sell the cars, and transfer every cent of the proceeds into a private trust fund for the victims of the defective bridge project their company built."