She Caught the Trash Before It Hit Her Face. Then the Pink Diamond Revealed Who Had Really Stolen an Empire.

The New York branch of the Royal Meridian Bank was a fortress of white marble and gold trimmings. On the top floor, Victor Sterling sat in a plush leather chair, a smug grin plastered across his face as he watched a loading screen on a laptop. Sitting across from him was a terrifying, scar-faced Russian operative—the Volkovs' handler.

"Transferring three billion dollars for the Vance shipping shares," the bank manager said nervously, typing on his secure terminal. "It will take just another minute for the encryption to clear, Mr. Sterling."

"Excellent," Victor sneered, sipping a glass of champagne. "By noon, Julian Vance will be crippled, and Elena Rostova will realize she backed the wrong horse. I am going to make them both scrub the floors of my new headquarters."

The heavy oak doors of the executive suite suddenly slammed open, shattering the quiet atmosphere.

Victor jumped, spilling his champagne. Standing in the doorway, flanked by six elite Rostova security guards in tactical suits, were Elena and Julian.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Victor shrieked, his voice cracking. "Security! Get them out of here! This is a private transaction!"

Elena didn't even look at Victor. She walked straight past him, her heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor, and approached the terrified bank manager. She pulled a folded document from her coat and dropped it on his keyboard.

"I am Elena Rostova," she said, her voice dripping with absolute authority. "As of eight minutes ago, the Rostova Syndicate completed the acquisition of the Royal Meridian Banking Group. I own this bank, I own this building, and I own the servers you are currently using."

The manager stared at the document, his face draining of all color as he recognized the official seal of the Federal Reserve and the international banking tribunal.

"C-cancel the transaction!" the manager yelled to his subordinates, ripping the access key out of the terminal. The laptop screen in front of Victor flashed red: ACCESS DENIED. ASSETS FROZEN.

"No!" Victor screamed, lunging across the desk. "You can't do this! That's three billion dollars!"

"Correction," Julian said, stepping up beside Elena with a dark, triumphant smile. "That was three billion dollars. Now, it's frozen under suspicion of international money laundering, pending a federal investigation."

The Russian handler stood up, drawing a concealed pistol from his jacket. But before the gun even cleared his holster, Julian moved with lightning speed, grabbing the man's wrist, twisting it violently until a loud snap echoed through the room. The gun clattered to the floor, and Julian kicked the Russian operative square in the chest, sending him crashing through a glass coffee table.

Victor fell to his knees, trembling violently as he looked up at Elena. The realization of his absolute, inescapable defeat crushed whatever was left of his sanity.

"You're a monster," Victor sobbed, crawling backward. "You ruined my family. You took everything!"

"I warned your father, and I warned your sister," Elena said, looking down at him with the cold indifference of a god. "You Sterlings never learn. You play with fire, and you cry when you burn."

Sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder as dozens of FBI vehicles surrounded the bank below. Elena had already tipped them off about the Russian cartel money.

Elena turned her back on Victor, linking her arm through Julian's.