Across the city, Victoria Thompson stumbled down a darkened street, her expensive heels clicking erratically against the pavement. The designer dress she'd worn to the boardroom was now torn and filthy, stained with dirt and sweat. Her carefully styled hair hung in tangled clumps around her haggard face.She looked like a homeless woman. And in many ways, she was.After being dragged from Thompson Holdings Tower, security had deposited her on the sidewalk with nothing. No purse. No phone. No money. Just the clothes on her back and the overwhelming weight of her family's complete destruction.Victoria had tried walking to the hospital where Robert and Jason were being treated, but her legs had given out after six blocks. The combined stress of three sleepless nights, constant terror, and the shock of being physically removed from her own company had left her physically and mentally depleted.She'd sat on a park bench for hours, watching people pass by, none of them recognizing the once

Victoria's head snapped up from the table, tears still streaming down her face but her expression transforming from despair to fury. "Why? WHY are you refusing to help me?"David and William, who had already started walking toward the exit, paused but didn't turn around immediately."I don't understand!" Victoria's voice climbed higher, drawing attention from the few other diners. "My plan is solid! It's the ONLY way to save the Thompson family! To reclaim what's ours! Why won't you support it?"William finally turned, his expression weary. "Because your plan is suicide, Victoria.""It's not suicide—it's fighting back!""No," David said firmly, also facing her now. "Fighting back requires having a chance of winning. What you're proposing is just... throwing ourselves off a cliff and hoping we'll somehow learn to fly on the way down."Victoria stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "We can WIN! If we work together, if we pool our resources—""With what resources?"

"Victoria—" David started."SHUT UP!" Victoria shrieked. "I don't want to hear another word from either of you! You're dead to me! Both of you! Just like Robert should have considered you dead years ago instead of giving you positions you never deserved!"She grabbed the cash William had left on the table and threw it at them. Bills scattered through the air, floating down like confetti."Keep your pity money! I don't need it! I don't need either of you! I'll destroy Alexander Kane myself! And when I do, when I'm standing over his broken body the way he stood over Robert's, you'll see! You'll ALL see!"Victoria turned and stormed toward the exit, her torn dress billowing behind her, her wild hair flying. She looked like a madwoman, which wasn't far from the truth. The other diners pressed themselves against walls and tables, creating space for her to pass, unwilling to get too close to someone so obviously unhinged.The restaurant door slammed behind her with such force that the glass

The minutes crawled by with agonizing slowness. Sophia watched the medical team work, their movements efficient and coordinated. She couldn't hear what they were saying, couldn't see Emma's face clearly, could only stand there helplessly while strangers tried to save her daughter's life.The atmosphere in the corridor was heavy, oppressive. Other patients and families passed by, some glancing at the desperate woman pressed against the window, others carefully averting their eyes from such raw emotion.Twenty minutes became thirty. Thirty became forty.Finally, the door to Room 3 opened. A doctor emerged—middle-aged, with gray hair and kind but serious eyes. His scrubs were rumpled, and he carried a tablet displaying medical charts."Mrs. Mitchell?" he asked, though Sophia's desperate expression made the answer obvious."Yes," Sophia gasped. "Is Emma—is she—""Your daughter is stable," the doctor said quickly, seeing the panic in her eyes. "She's unconscious but breathing on her own. W

"Dying anyway," Richard finished firmly. "Sophia, be realistic. Mitchell Industries is bankrupt. The building has liens against it. The equipment is outdated. We're facing foreclosure in less than a month. The company is finished whether we sell it now or let it die slowly.""But it's your life's work!" Sophia protested. "Everything you built—""Means nothing compared to Emma's life," Richard interrupted, his voice taking on steel. "That company is just... things. Buildings. Machinery. Paper. Emma is my granddaughter. My blood. My legacy. Not some failing business."Margaret stood, moving to her husband's side. "Richard, are you sure? If we liquidate everything, there's no coming back from that. No rebuilding.""I'm sixty-three years old, Margaret. I'm not rebuilding anything." Richard's voice was calm, certain. "But Emma is four. If we can save her, she has seventy, eighty years ahead of her. That's worth more than any company ever could be."Sophia rose from her chair, fresh tears s