The moment my divorce was finalized, I shut down my ex-mother-in-law’s card

Brandon sagged against the wall, his bravado entirely shattered. Julian released his grip, stepping back just enough to give him space but remaining close enough to intervene if he tried anything else.

"You have no idea what you've done, Olivia," Brandon stammered, wiping sweat from his upper lip. "My mother... she owes money to people. Dangerous people. If we don't pay them, they'll ruin our family."

"Your family is already ruined," I replied, feeling no pity for the man I once thought I loved. "You chose to steal from my company to pay off your mother's secret debts. That is your problem, not mine."

The doors to the VIP lounge suddenly burst open. Margaret stormed in, her face flushed red with rage. Two security guards were trailing nervously behind her.

"Brandon! What is going on?!" she demanded, marching toward us. She stopped when she saw the broken laptop on the floor.

"It's over, Mother," Brandon whispered, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, burying his face in his hands. "They froze the accounts."

Margaret's eyes widened in sheer panic, but she quickly masked it with her usual aristocratic fury. She turned to me, pointing a trembling finger in my face.

"You vindictive little witch," she hissed. "You're trying to destroy us because Brandon realized he was too good for a low-class girl like you!"

I didn't flinch. I just looked at her, realizing how small and pathetic she truly was.

"I didn't destroy you, Margaret. Your greed did," I said calmly. "And by the way, the FBI is very interested in the fact that your name is on the holding company that received stolen corporate funds."

Margaret scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "You have no proof. Brandon, tell her she has no proof!"

Brandon didn't look up. "She has photos, Mother. The laptop took pictures of me making the transfers."

Margaret froze. The blood drained completely from her face. For a moment, the grand, untouchable Margaret Hawthorne looked exactly like what she was: an old woman caught in a massive lie.

Suddenly, her demeanor changed. The anger vanished, replaced by a sickly sweet, desperate manipulation.

"Olivia, darling," she said, taking a step toward me, reaching out as if to touch my arm. "We can fix this. We are family, after all. You don't want to see Brandon go to prison, do you? Think of the scandal! Just... just unfreeze the accounts. Let us keep the money, and we will walk away forever. You'll never see us again."

I stared at her in utter disbelief. Even now, facing federal prison, she was trying to negotiate a payout.

"You really are delusional," I said softly.

Julian stepped forward, looking at his watch. "The gala is ending. The local police, along with federal agents from the financial crimes division, are waiting in the lobby."

"No!" Margaret shrieked, her facade breaking completely. "You can't do this! We are the Hawthornes!"

"Not anymore," I said.

I turned and walked toward the exit, Julian right beside me. As we walked down the hallway, I could hear Margaret screaming at Brandon, blaming him for everything, calling him stupid and useless. It was the ugliest sound I had ever heard, but for the first time in five years, it wasn't my problem.

We reached the top of the grand staircase. Down in the lobby, the red and blue lights of police cruisers were flashing through the glass doors. Uniformed officers were already speaking with the hotel management. Arthur Vance, my CEO, was standing near the doors, flanked by Sterling Point's corporate attorneys.