“She doesn’t have to fight you, Dominic,” he said, cold and absolute, his voice echoing off the chandeliers. “Because as of this exact second, you don’t exist.”

Silence fell over the ballroom — the heavy, suffocating kind that precedes an avalanche.

Victor strode down the center aisle, the crowd scrambling out of his way. Harrison Kensington recognized him instantly. The older man’s face flushed with a mix of shock and obsequious greed.

“Mr. Sterling!” He practically shoved his daughter aside, rushing forward with an outstretched hand. “What an unexpected honor to have the head of Sterling Capital at our gala.

Please, join the head table.”

Victor didn’t break stride. He walked past the extended hand, leaving Harrison hanging in humiliating silence, and came to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.