Brenda chuckled, a nervous, shrill sound. “”Chairman Vance? What kind of pathetic prank is this, Elena? You’ve finally lost your mind.””

But David wasn’t laughing. As the Regional Sales Director for Nova Group, he knew exactly who Chairman Vance was. The Vance Group was the parent conglomerate that had bought out Nova Group six months ago. No one in the public knew the Chairman’s first name or face—she was a ghost who ruled a five-billion-dollar empire from a high-rise in Manhattan.

“”Secretary Kim,”” I said, my voice cutting through the suffocating room like a scalpel. “”I am currently at the Roberts residence. I believe Nova Group has a senior employee named David Vance—sorry, David Roberts.”” I glanced at David, whose hands had begun to visibly shake. “”Terminate him. Immediately. Blacklist him from every subsidiary under our umbrella. And call the managing partners at Nova. Tell them the Rogers deal he just bragged about? It’s canceled.””

“”Right away, Chairman,”” Kim replied smoothly. “”Initiating termination and contract cancellation now. Shall I freeze the Roberts family commercial line of credit as well?””

“”Do it.””

I pressed the screen, ending the call.

“”Elena, stop this theater!”” Clara snapped, slamming her wine glass down, though her voice lacked its earlier venom. “”You’re a housewife! You clip coupons! Mark, tell your wife to stop embarrassing herself!””

Mark, who had been sitting in paralyzed silence the entire evening, finally looked up. He didn’t look at his sister. He looked at me, his eyes full of profound apology and sorrow. “”I tried to tell you all,”” Mark whispered, his voice hollow. “”I begged you to just be decent to her. She didn’t want to bring the money into our lives. She wanted us to just be… us.””

“”Mark, what are you talking about?”” Brenda demanded, her hand flying to her throat.

Right on cue, David’s phone blared. The ringtone sounded like a fire alarm in the quiet room. He fumbled with it, pressing it to his ear. “”H-hello? Mr. Sterling? Yes, sir—””

David fell to his knees right on the Persian rug. The flashy gold watch on his wrist caught the light as his arm dropped limply to his side.

“”Sir? Please, there must be a mistake! The Rogers deal is worth millions to my portfolio—”” David gasped, looking up at me with wide, bloodshot eyes. “”She’s… she’s here. Yes, sir. I understand.””

The phone slid from his hand, clattering against the hardwood floor.

“”David?”” Clara lunged forward, grabbing his shoulder. “”David, speak to me! What did he say?””

“”I’m ruined,”” David choked out, his voice a breathless whimper. “”Sterling said the Chairman herself ordered my termination. He said I’m blacklisted from the entire financial sector. The Rogers group just pulled out. Clara… we lose the house. The corporate car. Everything.””

Clara whirled on me, her face contorted in a mask of rage and terror. “”You bitch! You did this! You played us!””

“”No, Clara,”” I said softly, smoothing down the edges of Lily’s jacket as she whimpered against my shoulder. “”You played yourselves. For five years, I sat at this table and ate your cold food, listened to your insults, and watched you treat my husband like a charity case. I endured it because Mark wanted a family. But tonight, you put my seven-year-old child’s joy in a trash compactor.””

I stood up, lifting Lily into my arms. She wrapped her small legs around my waist, hiding her tear-stained face in my neck.

Brenda stepped forward, her aristocratic composure entirely shattered. Her silver hair was coming loose from its neat pins. “”Elena… please. David has a family. Clara is pregnant. We have standing in this community! You can’t just destroy us over a… a cheap dress!””

“”It wasn’t a cheap dress,”” I said, pausing at the threshold of the dining room. “”It was priceless. And as for your standing in the community? Secretary Kim is currently pulling the funding for the Roberts Family Foundation. The country club membership? Paid for by a Nova Group corporate grant. Gone by tomorrow morning.””

My father-in-law, who had demanded I leave his house moments before, looked like he had aged twenty years in three minutes. He sat heavily in his chair, staring at the expensive crystal chandelier that they would likely have to sell by spring.

“”Mark,”” I said, not looking back. “”Are you coming, or are you staying with your family?””

Mark stood up without a second thought, leaving his napkin on his untouched plate. He walked past his weeping sister and his catatonic mother, putting his arm around my waist as we walked toward the front door.

“”I’m coming with my family,”” Mark said firmly.

As the heavy oak front door of the Roberts mansion shut behind us, the crisp Christmas night air hit my face. My driver, who had been waiting down the street in a sleek, black armored Maybach, pulled up to the curb, the headlights cutting through the dark. He stepped out, opening the door for us with a respectful bow.

“”Merry Christmas, Chairman Vance,”” he said.

“”Merry Christmas, Thomas,”” I replied, sliding into the heated leather seat and pulling my daughter close. “”Take us home. And Thomas? Stop by a boutique on the way. My daughter needs a new dress. Something with a lot of sparkles.”