“You,” I whispered, “do not get to beg for my mercy.”

The agents yanked him back and closed the cuffs with a sharp click.

As the paramedics wheeled me through the ruined ballroom, Victor — now also cuffed — shouted after me, his voice raw. “You think destroying us makes you powerful, Mara?

You’re nothing without the Ashford name!”

I asked the EMT to stop for one second. I looked back at the shattered gift table, the crushed cupcakes, the blood on the pale blue silk, the ruins of a billionaire empire.

Then I looked into the eyes of the man who’d tried to erase me.