AT THE BIRTHDAY PARTY, MY HUSBAND HUNG ME FROM THE CEILING BEAM AND WHPPED ME 30 TIMES, JUST BECAUSE I HAD STAINED HIS MISTRESS'S CLOTHES. I CALLED MY FIVE GANGSTER BROTHERS: "MAKE HIS ENTIRE FAMILY LIVE A FATE WORSE THAN DETH."

The public news of Vale Logistics’ federal audit had caused their stock to plummet seventy-eight percent in forty-eight hours. Creditors were calling every five minutes, bank cards were being declined at gas stations, and the private security guards who had held me down on Sunday night walked off the job after their paychecks bounced.

At 11:00 AM, my brother Leo sent a drone to survey the Vale estate.

On the screens in our library, we watched Adrian’s father, Richard, packing leather suitcases into the trunk of a Mercedes, while Adrian stood on the driveway screaming into his phone.

"They're trying to flee to their villa in Cabo," Dominic observed, pulling up the flight manifests. "Richard just booked four private charter tickets out of Teterboro Airport for 3:00 PM."

Luca didn't even look up from his coffee. "Leo, notify the Port Authority. Tell them Richard Vale is attempting to transfer three million dollars in unregistered bonds out of the country."

"Already done," Leo grinned. "And I took the liberty of disabling the electronic security gates on their property."

"Let's pay my in-laws a visit," I said, standing up.

Twenty minutes later, two black SUVs tore up the gravel driveway of the Vale estate, pulling to a halt directly behind Richard's Mercedes, blocking the exit.

Adrian froze, his phone dropping to his ear as Nico, Leo, and I stepped out of the lead vehicle.

Richard Vale, an arrogant sixty-year-old man who had built his reputation on corporate intimidation, stepped forward with a heavy iron tire iron in his hand.

"Get off my property!" Richard roared, his face flushed red. "Anna, you crazy bitch, pull your lawyers off my company right now or I'll have you thrown in prison for corporate sabotage!"

Nico didn't even blink. He walked up to Richard, grabbed the iron bar out of the old man's hand with one smooth motion, and snapped it across his knee like a wooden twig, tossing the broken pieces onto the grass.

Richard took three steps back, his face turning pale as chalk.

Adrian’s mother, Eleanor, ran out onto the terrace, clutching her pearls. "Anna! How can you do this to us after everything we did for you?! We gave you a home! We brought you into high society!"

I looked at Eleanor, remembering how she had clapped her manicured hands while her son struck me with a belt.

"You brought me into a torture chamber, Eleanor," I said, my voice cold as ice. "And you watched."

Adrian stepped in front of his mother, trying to muster whatever pathetic arrogance he had left. "Anna, listen to me... we can talk about this! Okay? I was drunk on Sunday! Vanessa pushed me! You know how she is! It was a mistake!"

"A mistake?" I asked, pulling my leather glove off my right hand, revealing the deep, dark purple scars running across my wrist. "Thirty strikes, Adrian. One for every thousand dollars her dress cost. That's what your mistress said. Do you remember?"

Adrian swallowed hard, sweating profusely under the noon sun. "I'll pay you back! I'll give you whatever you want! Just stop the federal auditors! My father will go to prison!"

"Your father is going to prison, Adrian," a voice boomed from behind us.

A sleek black town car pulled up, and Matteo stepped out, accompanied by two state troopers and an investigator from the District Attorney's office.

"Richard Vale," the investigator declared, holding up an arrest warrant. "You are under arrest for systematic tax evasion, securities fraud, and illegal offshore money laundering."

The troopers moved in quickly, forcing Richard’s arms behind his back and clicking heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.

"Adrian! Help me!" Richard screamed as he was dragged toward the police cruiser. "Do something!"

Eleanor fell to her knees on the driveway, weeping hysterically, while Adrian’s younger brother, Marcus—the one who had filmed my beating—tried to slip quietly toward the side gate.

"Not so fast, Marcus," Leo called out, holding up a black thumb drive. "I have the original video file you uploaded to your private cloud storage on Sunday night. You know... the one where you recorded your brother assaulting my sister while you laughed?"

Marcus froze, turning white as a sheet.

"In the state of New York," Matteo added with a icy smile, "recording and encouraging an act of aggravated felony assault makes you an active co-conspirator. The troopers have a warrant for you, too."

Within five minutes, both Richard and Marcus were sitting in the back of police cruisers, their hands cuffed, their luxury lives completely stripped away.

Adrian stood alone on the driveway, surrounded by his weeping mother and the empty, echoing silence of his bankrupt estate.

He looked at me, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated terror. "Anna... please... what about me?"