My husband thought I was a powerless wife with nowhere to go—until I walked into his gala and revealed the family name he had spent six years underestimating.

"C... Crawford?" Spencer gasped, his knees buckling so severely that the security guards had to hold him upright. "You’re... Marcus Crawford’s daughter?"

"Six years ago," I said, stepping closer to him, my eyes locking onto his terrified soul, "I gave up my name, my fortune, and my status because I believed you were a man of honor. I lived in your home, endured your mother’s insults, and watched you spend my secret money to build your ego."

I took another step forward, leaning in slightly so only he, Cassandra, and Patricia could hear my words.

"I tolerated your arrogance, Spencer. I even tolerated your mistress," I whispered, my voice dropping into a deadly whisper that sent cold shivers down his spine. "But the moment she laid her hands on my daughter... the moment you let her spill Hazel’s blood onto that marble floor... you signed the death warrant of your family’s legacy."

Patricia dropped to her knees right there on the stone steps, her gold dress collapsing around her like trash.

"Gwen... please!" Patricia wept, grabbing at the hem of my gown with trembling fingers. "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know! I thought you were just a common girl! We’re family! Hazel is my granddaughter!"

"Don't touch my dress," I said coldly, pulling the silk from her grasp. "Hazel has no grandmother. She has only a mother who will burn your world to ashes."

Cassandra backed away in sheer panic, trying to hide behind Spencer. "I... I didn't mean to hit her that hard! The child startled me! It was an accident!"

"Thomas," I commanded without looking back.

"Yes, Ms. Crawford?"

"File the formal criminal charges for felony assault on a minor, battery, and child endangerment against Cassandra Miller immediately," I ordered flatly. "Ensure the district attorney denies bail."

Two uniformed LAPD officers stepped out from the side corridor, holding steel handcuffs.

"Cassandra Miller," the lead officer announced, grabbing her arms. "You are under arrest for assault causing grievous bodily harm."

"Spencer! Save me!" Cassandra screamed hysterically as the handcuffs snapped around her wrists. "Spencer, do something! You promised me I would be the queen of Beverly Hills!"

Spencer didn't even look at her. He was staring at me, his eyes wide, bloodshot, filled with a terrifying realization of what he had destroyed.

"Gwen... please," Spencer begged, tears finally streaming down his pale cheeks as he fell to his knees beside his mother. "I was blind! I was stupid! I was influenced by Cassandra and my mother! Please, think of our marriage! Think of Hazel! We can rebuild this! I’ll give you total control of the company!"

"Albright Enterprises doesn't exist anymore, Spencer," I said smoothly.

Thomas stepped forward, opening a leather dossier and handing a printed document to Spencer.

"At 7:15 PM," Thomas reported, "the Crawford Foundation executed a compulsory buyout of your short-term debt bonds from Chase Bank. We now hold ninety-four percent of your corporate liabilities. We have filed for immediate liquidation bankruptcy. Your assets, your Bel Air mansion, your vehicles, and your personal bank accounts have been frozen to satisfy federal tax liens."

Spencer stared at the paper in his hands, his hands shaking so hard the paper rattled. "No... no, no, no! My company... my life..."

"You told me this morning that I had nothing," I said, looking down at him from the top of the marble steps. "You were wrong, Spencer. I had everything. You were the one living on borrowed time."

I turned my back on them, sweeping toward the grand ballroom doors.

"Lord Harrington," I said softly.