CHAPTER 7

​The main auditorium of the Midtown Financial Center was a sea of flashing camera lights and low, expectant murmurs. Over fifty media outlets, financial reporters, and high-profile board members filled the plush velvet seats, their eyes fixed on the podium at the front of the stage.

​Julien stood near the microphone, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke navy blazer. Beside him, dressed in a sleek red designer dress that screamed ostentatious arrogance, stood Chloe. She held a black leather folder containing the pre-drafted press releases, a triumphant, smug smile playing on her lips.

​Julien checked his platinum watch: 8:58 AM.

​"She isn't coming," Chloe whispered into Julien’s ear, her hand resting casually against his back. "She’s probably hiding in her old apartment, weeping over her mother's rubies."

​Julien chuckled softly, settling into the microphone. "It doesn't matter if she's here in person. The moment I announce her voluntary resignation from the Vance board, the market will process it as a done deal. By noon, her signature on the marital rider won't even be necessary—she'll have no financial backing left to fight me."

​He tapped the microphone twice, the sharp sound echoing through the heavy speakers. The room immediately fell silent, the camera flashes intensifying.

​"Good morning, members of the press and distinguished guests," Julien began, smoothing his tie, his tone dripping with practiced, unearned confidence. "Today marks a momentous shift for Thorne Enterprises and the Vance Foundation. Over the past five years, my wife, Vivian Vance, and I have worked tirelessly to streamline our joint assets. However, due to shifting personal priorities and her desire to step away from public life..."

​BANG.

​The heavy double oak doors at the rear of the grand auditorium swung open, slamming against the marble walls with a thunderous crack that silenced the room instantly.

​Every camera lens in the hall spun around simultaneously.

​Stepping through the doorway, framed by the blinding morning light pouring in from the atrium, was Vivian Vance.

​Gasps rippled through the audience.

​Vivian walked down the carpeted center aisle with the commanding, untouchable grace of royalty. Her emerald-green silk sheath dress clung sharply to her figure, moving with every confident stride. Her chin was held high, her lips painted a striking crimson.

​And resting against her collarbones, catching the glare of fifty camera strobes in a dazzling display of deep red brilliance, was Eleanor Vance’s original ruby necklace.

​Julien’s face drained of every drop of color. His jaw dropped, his hands freezing against the podium. "What... how..."

​Beside him, Chloe’s smug smile shattered instantly, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as she stared at the rubies around Vivian's neck. "Julien... the necklace... how does she have the necklace?"

​But Vivian wasn't walking alone.

​Flanking her on either side, moving in synchronized, terrifying power, were the three Blackwood brothers.

​On her left stood Lucian, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, a lazy, predatory smirk on his handsome face as his icy blue eyes fixed onto Julien like a hawk watching its prey.

​On her right stood Alexander, holding a thick, red-bound legal dossier, his expression composed, lethal, and unreadable.

​And walking half a step behind Vivian, his massive frame radiating absolute, protective dominance, was Ethan Blackwood. His dark eyes burned with a promise of complete destruction as he swept his gaze across the stage.

​The media room exploded.

​"Is that Blackwood Global?!"

"The Blackwood brothers are back in New York?!"

"Why are they escorting Vivian Vance?!"

​Julien gripped the edges of the podium so hard his knuckles turned white. "Vivian! What is the meaning of this circus? This is a private corporate briefing—"

​"This was a press conference," Vivian’s voice cut through the commotion, clear, icy, and amplified through the wireless lavalier microphone pinned to her dress.

​She stepped up to the edge of the stage, ascending the stairs without a second of hesitation. Ethan, Lucian, and Alexander formed a wall of dark steel behind her, entirely blocking Julien and Chloe from the primary camera feeds.

​"You told the press I was stepping down, Julien," Vivian said, her voice carrying absolute authority across the silent hall. "You told them I was relinquishing my mother's foundation."

​"Vivian, shut your mouth," Julien snarled under his breath, taking a hasty step toward her, his face contorting in rage. "You are making a massive mistake. Remember your place—"

​Ethan stepped forward instantly, his towering 6'4" frame blocking Julien’s path. Ethan didn't even raise his hand; his sheer physical presence forced Julien to take an instinctual, humiliating step back.

​"Touch her," Ethan rasped, his voice a low, terrifying growl that carried straight through the stage microphones, "and I'll tear your life apart before you reach the bottom of these stairs."

​Julien swallowed hard, sweat breaking out across his forehead as he cowered beneath Ethan’s glare.

​Vivian turned back to the sea of flashing cameras, holding up a sleek glass flash drive.

​"Twelve hours ago," Vivian announced, "Julien Thorne presented me with a demand. An addendum to our marriage that would grant him total personal freedom while stripping me of my mother's estate, threatening to liquidate her rubies at public auction if I did not submit."

​The reporters gasped, the shutter clicks turning into a deafening roar.

​"He claimed he owned the Vance Foundation's debt," Vivian continued, pointing directly at the glowing red rubies at her neck. "He claimed he owned me. But as of 8:00 AM this morning, Blackwood Capital completed a full acquisition of Thorne Enterprises' debt obligations."

​Alexander stepped up to the second microphone, opening his dossier with calm, terrifying precision. "Furthermore, legal documents filed with the Supreme Court twenty minutes ago confirm that Julien Thorne’s marriage rider constitutes intentional extortion under corporate governance laws. As of this moment, Vivian Vance has officially filed for an immediate, absolute divorce."

​"Divorce?!" Julien screamed, his voice cracking hysterically as he looked between the reporters and the stage. "She can't do that! The Vance board will never approve this!"

​"The Vance board approved it five minutes ago," Lucian chimed in, his velvet voice dripping with utter disdain as he took a step toward Chloe, who was shrinking back in terror. "Because Miss Vance currently controls seventy percent of the voting shares, backed directly by Blackwood Global."

​Vivian walked straight up to Julien. He cringed, looking smaller, weaker, and completely broken in front of the live national broadcast.

​She reached into her purse, pulled out the folded, unsigned open marriage rider he had thrown at her feet the night before, and tossed it onto his chest. It bounced off his suit jacket and fluttered pathetically to the floor.

​"You wanted loyalty, Julien," Vivian whispered, her voice low enough for only him and Chloe to hear, yet cold enough to freeze his blood. "Now you can enjoy your freedom. In complete bankruptcy."

​She turned on her heel, her emerald dress swirling around her legs, and began her descent down the stage stairs.

​Ethan, Lucian, and Alexander walked in formation beside her, leaving Julien and Chloe stranded on stage under the brutal, relentless glare of a hundred flashing cameras as reporters shouted questions about their ruin.

​As they reached the heavy double exit doors of the Financial Center, Ethan reached out, his warm, heavy hand wrapping around Vivian’s waist, pulling her close against his side.

​"You did incredible, sweetheart," Ethan murmured, his dark eyes looking down at her with intense, possessive pride.

​Vivian leaned into his side for a fraction of a second, her heart racing as the heavy doors closed behind them, shutting out the chaos of the press room.

​They stepped into the private VIP elevator. The doors slid shut, sealing the four of them in silence once again.

​Alexander checked his phone, a rare, subtle smile gracing his lips. "Julien’s stock just dropped forty-two percent in live pre-market trading."

​"He's finished," Lucian agreed, leaning back against the wall, his eyes fixed on Vivian’s crimson lips. "Which leaves us with our primary objective."

​Vivian looked between the three brothers. The high of public vengeance began to settle, replaced immediately by the heavy, suffocating romantic tension that had been building since last night.

​"What objective?" Vivian asked softly, her breath catching as Ethan stepped closer, trapping her against the elevator handrail, his hands settling firmly on her waist.

​Ethan leaned down, his dark eyes blazing with an intense, unyielding fire that made her knees tremble.

​"You're a free woman now, Vivian," Ethan rasped, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her hip through the silk dress. "No husband. No legal chains. Which means you belong back where you started."

​His mouth hovered just inches from hers, his heat consuming her entirely. "With us."

​Chime.

​The elevator doors slid open to the private underground garage—where a waiting black sedan stood idling, but sitting right on the hood was a thick, yellowed envelope marked with an urgent, confidential seal from five years ago.

​Alexander’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the envelope. "Wait. Nobody should have access to this floor."

​Vivian’s eyes locked onto the seal on the envelope. Her blood ran ice-cold as she recognized the handwriting on the front.

​It was the original, unredacted Interpol file—the secret reason she had sacrificed everything five years ago to save Ethan’s life. And taped to the front was a handwritten note:

​"Did you really think the truth wouldn't come out, Vivian?"