Of who I’m supposed to punish.
It’s the Laurent family case file.
The Manila folder is worn at the edges from how often I’ve opened it. Inside are court documents, forged emails, and photos of men in prison uniforms—men who should never have seen the inside of a cell.
One of my companies—one of my few legitimate ventures—was gutted by Laurent Bank’s manipulation. A quiet little massacre done in suits and handshakes. By the time the truth surfaced, the damage was irreversible.
Hundreds of employees were thrown out on the street.
And one of my closest friends….
He didn’t survive the fallout.
The Laurents, with their spotless reputation and polished smiles, covered their tracks perfectly. Not a single stain stuck to them.
Bastards.
And my brothers try to make me feel guilty for marrying Vivian?
Never.
She was a part of this. Always has been.
Vivian’s father might have signed the papers, might have orchestrated the entire operation, but I remember the daughter too well. The elegant little socialite standing beside him at charity events, smiling like a princess. At every press conference where Laurent would sit there and blatantly lie about what happened—about what they did—Vivian would be right beside him.
Smiling.
Nodding.
Performing innocence while her father ruined people’s lives with a pen stroke.
My friend’s life.
Hundreds of livelihoods.
My company.
But the public ate it up. Of course they did. The Laurents were untouchable. Golden. Beloved.
I grip the edge of my desk, forcing my jaw to unclench.
They think I’m cruel for marrying her? For binding her to me, for using her name as the leash I’ll drag her father with?
They weren’t there. They didn’t watch a good man fall apart. They didn’t watch families lose everything. They didn’t bury a friend.
But I did.
And I swore then—on my blood, on my name—that the Laurents would one day pay.
And now they will.
Starting with the daughter who stood beside her father and smiled while he destroyed everything I built.
“Are you okay?”
I look up.
Sylvester is standing there, brows drawn tight, eyes flicking to my hand.
