Everyone mocked the maid until the groom knelt down in front of her.

The Whispering Pines Winter Masquerade was an opulent display of excess. The ballroom was transformed into an ice palace, complete with life-sized ice sculptures of swans, walls draped in shimmering silver silk, and a ceiling filled with thousands of white roses.

The city's elite arrived wearing bespoke masks of feathers, leather, and jewels, hiding their faces as they indulged in champagne and gossip.

Julian Vance stood in the freezing courtyard, shivering in his red valet jacket. He watched the billionaires hand over their keys, laughing, their breath fogging the cold air. He felt a tap on his shoulder.

He spun around to see Vivian holding a garbage bag.

"Service elevator. Five minutes," she muttered under her breath, not making eye contact. "If you want to get out of here forever."

Julian frowned, confusion flashing across his face, but he didn't ask questions. For the first time in six months, Vivian sounded like the woman he used to know—sharp, commanding, and dangerous.

Ten minutes later, they were standing in the dim, silent hallway of the executive suite on the top floor of the clubhouse. The heavy thumping of the bass from the ballroom downstairs was a distant, muffled heartbeat.

Vivian quickly explained Victoria’s plan, showing him the passports and promising him half the money. Julian’s eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed with a ravenous, desperate hunger. The cowardice vanished, replaced by the shark that had once dominated Wall Street.

"Give me the silicone," Julian demanded.

Vivian handed him the thumbprint and the contact lens. "Maya is downstairs. We have ten minutes before the perimeter check."

Julian approached the heavy oak door of Maya’s office. He pressed the silicone thumbprint against the scanner. A green light flashed. Click. The door unlocked.

They slipped inside. The office was pitch black, save for the moonlight reflecting off the snow outside, illuminating the sleek, minimalist furniture and the massive steel safe built into the wall behind the mahogany desk.

Julian stepped up to the safe. He put in the contact lens, blinking rapidly as his eye watered, and leaned into the retinal scanner. A red laser swept across his eye.

BEEP. Access Granted.

The heavy steel door swung open smoothly. Inside, resting on a velvet pad, was a single, silver decryption drive.

Julian let out a breathless laugh. "We did it. We actually did it." He reached out, his hand shaking with adrenaline, and grabbed the drive. He pulled the dummy drive from his pocket and placed it on the velvet pad.

"Julian, hurry," Vivian whispered, checking the hallway monitor on Maya’s desk. "We need to get to the cellar."

"Oh, Vivian. Always in such a rush."

The voice sliced through the darkness like a guillotine blade.

The lights in the office snapped on with a blinding flash. Vivian screamed, stumbling backward. Julian froze, the silver drive clutched tightly in his hand.

Sitting in a high-backed leather chair in the corner of the room, previously obscured by the shadows, was Maya Sterling. She was wearing a stunning, blood-red masquerade gown, an intricately carved obsidian mask resting on her lap. She held a crystal glass of bourbon, looking completely, utterly unbothered.

Stepping out from the adjoining private bathroom were Marcus and three armed Wraith security guards.

"Did you honestly think," Maya said smoothly, taking a sip of her bourbon, "that my aunt could waltz onto my property, hand you a money clip in broad daylight, and I wouldn't know about it?"

Vivian’s blood ran cold. The floor felt like it was dropping out from beneath her. It was a trap. The whole thing was a trap.

"The safe was too easy, Julian," Maya mocked, standing up and walking slowly toward them. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor. "A synthetic thumbprint? A coded lens? Please. I disabled the secondary firewall this morning just to see if you were stupid enough to try it."

Julian backed against the wall, panicked. "You set us up! You wanted us to steal it!"

"No, Julian," Maya corrected, stopping a few feet away. "I wanted Victoria to think she had leverage. That drive you’re holding? It doesn't contain our acquisition ledgers. It contains a self-executing malware virus that, when plugged into Victoria’s mainframe, will wipe her offshore accounts clean and transfer the funds directly to a Syrian orphanage. A little charity work, courtesy of the Sterling Group."

Maya turned her piercing blue eyes to Vivian. The absolute terror in Vivian’s face seemed to amuse the young heiress.

"You had a choice tonight, Vivian," Maya said softly. "You could have brought that money clip to me. You could have proven that you learned your lesson, that you understand who holds the leash. Instead, you chose betrayal."

"Please," Vivian sobbed, falling to her knees. "She promised us freedom. We just wanted our lives back."

"Your old lives are dead!" Maya shouted, her voice suddenly echoing like thunder, stripping away the calm facade. "You killed them the day you assaulted my grandmother and thought your wealth made you untouchable!"

Maya took a deep breath, composing herself. She looked at Marcus. "Take Employee 402 to the authorities. Corporate espionage, grand larceny, and violation of bail terms. Make sure the District Attorney knows I want maximum sentencing."

Julian fought like a wild animal as the Wraiths grabbed him, screaming obscenities, kicking and thrashing, but Marcus delivered a swift, brutal strike to his abdomen, dropping him to the floor. They dragged Julian out of the office, his cries echoing down the hallway until the elevator doors closed.

Vivian remained on the floor, trembling violently, waiting for the guards to grab her next. But they didn't.