The air in Luciel’s private dining room possessed the weight of quiet money, but to Richard Blackwood, it suddenly tasted like ozone before a lightning strike.

The Great Hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art was an ocean of tuxedos, silk gowns, and shimmering champagne. High-society New York was out in full force for the annual Winter Solstice Gala, hosted by none other than Julian Vance.

Julian Vance stood near the Egyptian Temple of Dendur, sipping a vintage Pinot Noir. He was fifty-two, impeccably groomed with silver-streaked hair, a sharp jawline, and a broad smile that hid a sociopathic lack of conscience.

Beside him stood three senior board members of Apex Global.

"Richard Blackwood’s bid is impressive," one of the board members observed, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "If his wire transfer clears by midnight, his group takes sixty percent controlling interest."

Julian chuckled softly, swirling the deep red wine in his crystal glass. "I wouldn't worry too much about Mr. Blackwood's bid, Arthur. Richard is... a man of delicate health. One never knows when a heavy workload might take its toll on the heart."

At that exact second, the massive brass doors at the entrance of the Great Hall swung open.

A quiet murmur rippled across the four hundred guests, cascading through the room like a falling row of dominoes.

Julian Vance turned his head, a smug smile still lingering on his lips—until his blood ran cold.

Walking down the grand marble staircase, completely unbothered, was Richard Blackwood.

He looked majestic, cold, and utterly untouched by mortality. His black tuxedo was immaculate, his leather shoes gleaming against the polished stone, and in his right hand, he carried a small, velvet-lined mahogany box.

Julian’s hand jerked, spilling several drops of dark wine onto his white shirt cuff. "Impossible..." he breathed under his breath.

Richard navigated through the parting crowd with effortless grace, his eyes locked onto Julian Vance with predatory focus.

"Julian," Richard called out smoothly, his voice carrying clearly over the soft string quartet playing in the background. "You look surprised to see me. I thought you’d be interested in how my dinner at Luciel ended."

The three board members looked between the two men, sensing the immediate, suffocating tension.

"Richard!" Julian recovered quickly, putting on his practiced politician’s grin. "A surprise, indeed! I thought you were celebrating a private evening with the lovely Vanessa."

"Vanessa had a sudden change of heart," Richard said, stepping within two feet of Vance. "Or rather, a sudden panic about what she was serving me."

Richard opened the mahogany box in his hand.

Inside sat a small, sealed glass vial containing three milliliters of clear liquid—the exact poison recovered from Vanessa’s purse by his security team—alongside a printed high-resolution photo of the man with the broken phoenix tattoo on his neck.

Julian’s smile vanished completely. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse standing in a tuxedo.

"I believe this belongs to your head of security, Mr. Vance," Richard said softly, leaning in so only Julian could hear him. "The police have already raided the kitchen at Luciel. The man with the tattoo is currently in federal custody. And Vanessa... well, Vanessa is telling the District Attorney everything she knows about your offshore accounts in Grand Cayman."

Julian’s jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his wine glass. "You think a street girl and a crooked chef can link this to me, Blackwood? My legal team will rip them to shreds before sunrise."

"They won't get the chance," Richard replied, his dark blue eyes sparkling with icy triumph. "Because thirty seconds ago, my firm purchased forty-one percent of Vance Enterprises' debt from Deutsche Bank. I just initiated a margin call."

Julian gasped, his eyes widening in pure horror. "You... you can't do that—"

"I just did," Richard whispered. "By eight o'clock tomorrow morning, every asset you own—this suit, your penthouse, your yachts, and your shares in Apex Global—will be seized to liquidate your debt. You are bankrupt, Julian. And by noon, you'll be indicted for attempted murder."