104 I was cradling my newborn daughter when my dad stepped into the hospital room and noticed the dark bruised fingerprints circling my neck. Across the room, my husband leaned back comfortably in his chair and smirked. “Just reminding her who’s in charge of this family now.”

While Marcus and Harrison sat in separate high-security holding cells at the Cook County Jail, the remaining members of the Vance family were scrambling to preserve their remaining fortune.

Inside the penthouse of the Four Seasons Hotel in downtown Chicago, Victoria Vance—Marcus’s mother—sat across from the family’s head legal counsel, Arthur Pendelton.

Victoria was sipping a martini, her face tight with rage, her designer clothes pristine despite her family collapsing into chaos around her.

"I don't care what it costs, Arthur!" Victoria snapped, slamming her martini glass onto the glass coffee table. "Get Marcus out on bail! He cannot be in a public jail cell with common criminals! It will ruin his reputation!"

"Mrs. Vance, you don't understand," Pendelton said nervously, wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. "The judge on this case is Evelyn Reed. And the primary witness is Phoebe Vance... or rather, Phoebe's father, Thomas Vance."

"Thomas Vance is a nobody!" Victoria shrieked. "He’s a deaf mechanic who lives in a run-down house on the south side! We offered him fifty thousand dollars to give up custody of the baby last month, and he didn't even reply!"

"Thomas Vance didn't reply because fifty thousand dollars is what he spends on engine oil for his private aircraft collection, Victoria," Pendelton revealed, his voice shaking.

Victoria froze, her martini glass pausing halfway to her lips. "What?"

Pendelton pulled a thick asset report from his briefcase and tossed it onto the table.

"Thomas Vance sold his military tactical logistics patents to Lockheed Martin twenty years ago for two hundred and eighty million dollars," Pendelton said. "He lives in that modest south-side house because he prefers a quiet life. He owns three manufacturing plants, a private airstrip, and sixty percent of the commercial real estate on the North Shore. His net worth makes your husband look like a street beggar."

Victoria’s face drained of all color. "No... no, that's impossible. Phoebe wore clothes from department stores! She drove a four-year-old Honda!"

"Because she wanted a normal life, Victoria!" Pendelton yelled, losing his patience. "Because she wanted a husband who loved her for who she was! But your son decided to choke her, mock her father, and try to frame her for financial fraud! And now Thomas Vance is using his political connections to freeze every single Vance bank account worldwide!"

Suddenly, the electronic lock on the penthouse door chimed.

Four federal agents stepped into the foyer, led by Detective Ray Miller.

"Victoria Vance?" Detective Miller called out, pulling a warrant from his jacket. "You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit medical fraud, witness tampering, and accessory to corporate embezzlement."

Victoria stood up, her expensive pearl necklace clicking against her throat. "This is absurd! I am Victoria Vance! You can't touch me!"

"Your husband already gave you up, Mrs. Vance," Miller replied coldly, stepping forward with handcuffs. "He signed a preliminary statement two hours ago claiming you were the one who authorized the bribes to the hospital staff at St. Jude's."