My sister smiled and pushed me off an 11-foot balcony knowing my spine was already fractured, then laughed as I hit the marble floor.

The silence in the grand ballroom was so profound that the hum of my wheelchair's electric motor sounded like a turbine.

Four hundred pairs of eyes shifted from the towering screen to me. I wore a tailored black evening suit, my posture held perfectly upright by the carbon-fiber thoracic brace concealed beneath the silk lapels. My hands rested calmly on the armrests, steady and unmoving.

Evan was the first to move. He took a stumbling step forward, his hand dropping from Taryn’s waist as if she were made of radioactive waste.

"Audrey..." he breathed into the microphone, his voice echoing across the horrified room. "Audrey, I didn't know—she told me you slipped! She swore to me on her life—"

"Save it, Evan," I said, my voice carrying clearly through the clip-on lapel mic Victoria had secured to my collar. "You traded my spine for a board seat. You looked at my medical scans and asked if the NDA was signed before you asked if I would ever walk again."

Evan’s father, Arthur Harrington, stepped onto the platform, his face dark with fury. Without a word to his son, he ripped the boutonniere from Evan’s lapel and threw it to the floor.

"The merger is dead," Arthur said coldly, loud enough for every reporter's camera to catch. "Harrington Enterprises does not partner with attempted murderers, embezzlers, and cowards. Clear your desk by midnight, Evan. You're out."

"Dad, wait!" Evan scrambled after him, but two Harrington security guards blocked his path, treating him like an intruder at his own coronation.

On the dais, Eleanor had collapsed into an armchair, clutching her pearls with both hands, hyperventilating as the flashing cameras of the local press converged on her like vultures.

Richard Vance tried to push through the crowd toward me, his face mottled with purple rage. "You ungrateful little bitch!" he snarled, breaking through the perimeter of guests. "Everything I built—everything this family has—was for your future! You destroyed us for what? Revenge?"

"I didn't destroy you, Father," I said as the lead detective stepped directly in front of Richard, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt. "You destroyed yourself the moment you put a price tag on my life."

"Richard Vance, Eleanor Vance," Detective Miller announced, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "You are under arrest for grand theft, corporate embezzlement, and conspiracy to obstruct a felony investigation. Place your hands behind your back."

Richard looked wildly around the room, searching for an ally, a lawyer, a friendly face among the city’s elite. Every single person stepped back, looking away with disgust.

And then there was Taryn.

My sister was backing slowly toward the service kitchen doors, her eyes wide, wild, and darting like a trapped animal. The mask had completely shattered; what remained was pure, unadulterated venom.

"It was just content!" she shrieked suddenly, her voice cracking into hysteria as two female officers moved to flank her. "It was just a prank! She was always the favorite! Grandma loved her! You all loved her! She ruined my life over a fall!"

"Taryn Vance," the officer said, grabbing her wrist and forcing it behind her back. "You have the right to remain silent."

As the steel cuffs clicked around her wrists, Taryn looked back at me over her shoulder. Her teeth were bared, tears stripping the mascara down her cheeks.