We need to redo the portrait. We must get a photo with you.”

I stepped back — a small, smooth motion — and let her hand close on empty air. “You only want successful people in the shot, Linda,” I said coldly. “And I have a mess to clean up.

I wouldn’t want to stain your silk.” She recoiled as if I’d slapped her.

I turned back to my father, who was sweating, trying to salvage his pride in front of the senator and the elite now watching him with open pity.

“But… Sophia said you paid for this,” he wheezed. “And the house. Vanguard Holdings. That was you?”

“Vanguard is my private trust,” I replied. “I put my hazard pay into defense-tech startups fifteen years ago. I got lucky. Then I got smart.”