Vanessa stared at the black smartphone, her mocking smile shattering into pure, paralyzing terror.
Through the speaker, Ryan’s voice echoed across the bright, marble-floored jewelry store. It wasn’t heartbroken. It was cold. Flat. Unforgiving.
“Everything.”
“Ryan, baby, wait!” Vanessa gasped, her chest heaving against her black off-the-shoulder dress. “It’s a joke! I was just—”
*Click.* Catherine ended the call.
The older woman didn’t flinch. She simply adjusted the exquisite diamond necklace resting against her crisp white blazer, her expression completely untroubled.
“He loved you,” Catherine said, her voice smooth as glass. “But Ryan is a Whitmore. And Whitmores do not bleed for parasites.”
Vanessa’s hands trembled. The millions, the estate, the lavish lifestyle—evaporating in a single, fatal heartbeat. “You set me up. You brought me to this showroom just to—”
“To give you the stage you so desperately wanted,” Catherine interrupted. She casually tapped the glass of the diamond display case.
From the back room, the store manager emerged. He wasn’t holding jewelry. He was flanked by two men in sharp, dark suits. Federal agents.
“You see, Vanessa,” Catherine whispered, stepping close enough that Vanessa could smell her expensive perfume. “Did you really think I built a billion-dollar empire by being careless? We’ve known about your three previous identities for six months. The drained accounts in Geneva. The missing fiancés.”
Vanessa turned deathly pale, her body stiffening as the agents approached.
“We just needed to establish your extortion intent on a recorded line to finalize the arrest warrant,” Catherine explained calmly.
An agent pulled out a pair of steel handcuffs. They gleamed perfectly under the pristine showroom lights.
Catherine offered a chilling, razor-sharp smile. “You said you were going to get everything. Well, my dear… here it comes.”