HIS MISTRESS LAUGHED WHEN I FLATLINED IN LABOR—BUT THE DOCTOR WALKED OUT AND DELIVERED THE ULTIMATE KARMA

The Marina Bay Sands convention center was a masterpiece of modern opulence, swarming with thousands of the most powerful tech CEOs, venture capitalists, and digital marketing titans on the planet.

Mark and I did not sneak through the service elevators. We walked through the grand main entrance with the unyielding, terrifying confidence of executioners. I wore a tailored, stark white power suit that commanded the attention of the entire room, my emerald-cut diamond flashing under the brutalist lighting. Mark walked beside me, a towering, impenetrable fortress in a bespoke dark suit.

We slipped into the VIP section of the main auditorium just as the keynote presentation was beginning.

Morgan Vance strode onto the massive stage. She was a striking, icy woman who looked exactly like her father. She exuded an aura of untouchable privilege, smiling smugly as she adjusted the microphone. Behind her, colossal eighty-foot digital screens displayed the logo of her new shadow corporation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Morgan’s voice echoed through the massive hall, dripping with arrogance. "The era of human influencers is over. Today, I am proud to unveil the most advanced text-to-video AI rendering engine the world has ever seen. An engine that will make companies like APT entirely obsolete."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek remote, ready to unveil the deepfake algorithms she believed she had stolen from me.

She pressed the button.

I stood up from my front-row seat and gave a subtle, sharp nod to my phone camera.

Halfway across the world, Tới and Giang hijacked the mainframe.

The eighty-foot screens behind Morgan didn't display her revolutionary AI. The screens violently glitched, washing the auditorium in a harsh red light. Then, undeniable, damning evidence illuminated the hall.

It was a digital masterpiece of public execution. The screens displayed the raw cryptocurrency receipts tying Morgan to the black-market VIA clone accounts. It displayed the IP logs of her orchestrated attacks on APT. And most devastatingly, it displayed a recorded, crystal-clear audio file of Morgan screaming at her dark-web mercenaries to fabricate the medical billing scandal against Mark’s pediatric clinic.

The entire summit erupted into absolute, chaotic pandemonium.

Tech moguls leaped out of their seats. Journalists frantically pointed their cameras at the screens. The investors who had been sitting in the front row, preparing to hand Morgan millions of dollars, physically backed away in sheer disgust.

Morgan staggered backward, the remote dropping from her trembling hand, shattering on the stage. The color drained from her face as she looked up at the screens, watching her entire inherited empire burn to ash in a matter of seconds.

She looked down at the audience, her eyes locking onto mine.

"You," she breathed, her voice cracking with pure terror.

"I told you, Morgan," I said, my voice projecting clearly over the chaos, carrying the weight of an absolute queen. "If you came for my family, you would share a cell with your father."

"INTERPOL! Nobody move!"

The command thundered through the auditorium. Dozens of heavily armed international federal agents swarmed the stage from the wings. They had been waiting in the shadows, briefed by Mark’s legal team and armed with the decrypted beacon data Tới and Giang had extracted.

Morgan Vance didn't even try to run. She collapsed to her knees as the agents swarmed her, violently pulling her arms behind her back to snap heavy steel handcuffs onto her wrists. She looked out at the thousands of peers who were now staring at her with absolute disgust. Her shadow syndicate was permanently dismantled.

Mark stepped up beside me, wrapping a strong, protective arm around my waist. He looked at the ruined heiress being dragged off the stage, and then looked down at me with a profound, overwhelming reverence.