272 Because my family was drowning in debt, they forced me to marry a wealthy old man I had never met. On our wedding night, I stood trembling as he locked the door. “Please… don’t hurt me,” I whispered. He smiled, gripped the wrinkled skin at his jaw, and peeled away a lifelike mask. A handsome young man stared back. “Relax,” he said coldly. “You were never my target. Your family was—and tonight, my revenge begins.”

By 1:00 p.m., the grand auditorium at the Manhattan Financial Center was packed with over fifty journalists, investors, and television camera crews. News of the sudden freeze on Vance Construction stock had sent shockwaves through Wall Street.

Behind the red velvet curtains of the stage, I adjusted Adrian’s silk tie.

Without the mask, he was striking—sharp jawline, dark eyes, and a composure that radiated absolute power. The small scar cutting through his left eyebrow only added a rugged, dangerous edge to his aristocratic features.

"You're quiet," Adrian murmured, looking down at me as my fingers worked on his knot. "Regretting your choices?"

"Not for a second," I replied, looking up into his eyes. "I'm just thinking about the secondary board members. Half of them were bought off by Marcus two years ago. They won't relinquish control of the Waterfront Development without a fight."

"They won't have a choice," Adrian said smoothly. "My legal team just acquired twenty-five percent of the voting shares from the secondary creditors. Combined with your holdings, we hold fifty-one percent."

He reached out, his warm thumb gently tracing the line of my jaw—a gesture so unexpectedly tender that my breath caught in my throat for a brief second.

"You handled yourself remarkably well back at the estate, Evelyn," he whispered, his eyes lingering on my lips. "Most people would have broken when Marcus lunged."

"I spent twenty-six years surviving that house, Adrian," I said, holding his gaze. "A desperate coward like Marcus doesn't scare me."

Before he could answer, Julian—Adrian’s chief legal advisor, a sharp-eyed man in his late thirties—pushed through the curtain.

"It's time, boss. The press is ready. And... we have an unexpected guest."

Adrian’s eyes darkened. "Who?"

"Victoria Sterling," Julian reported grimly.

I frowned. "Victoria Sterling? The heiress to Sterling Global Infrastructure?"

"My ex-fiancée," Adrian explained flatly, his posture going rigid. "Her father was one of the investors who backed out on my family ten years ago when your father framed us. Victoria broke our engagement forty-eight hours after my father died."

"And why is she here now?" I asked, a sudden, sharp prick of jealousy rising in my chest despite myself.

"Because she heard the name Adrian Cross is back on Wall Street," Julian answered. "And she just bought ten percent of Vance Construction’s liquid debt."

Adrian let out a cold snort. "Opportunist as always. Let's go."

We stepped out onto the stage under the blinding flash of fifty camera lenses. The room erupted into a barrage of shouted questions.

"Mr. Cross! Is it true you faked your identity to acquire Vance Construction?!" "Mrs. Cross! Are you suing your own family?!" "What happens to the Waterfront Development?!"

Adrian stood at the podium, adjusting the microphone. The room gradually fell quiet under the sheer force of his presence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Adrian’s voice resonated powerfully through the speakers. "Ten years ago, the Cross family was destroyed by fraud, corruption, and corporate theft. Today, justice returns to Manhattan. As of 12:00 p.m., Cross Enterprises has acquired a controlling fifty-one percent stake in Vance Construction. Effective immediately, Richard Vance and Marcus Vance have been removed from all executive positions."

A chorus of gasps echoed through the room.

"Furthermore," Adrian continued, reaching out to take my hand, pulling me to stand right beside him at the podium, "this restructuring is led jointly by myself and my wife, Evelyn Vance Cross—the new Chief Executive Officer of the Waterfront Infrastructure Project."

The cameras went wild, flashes blinding us like a winter blizzard.

From the front row of the VIP seating, a woman stood up slowly.

She was stunning—platinum blonde hair, dressed in an immaculate emerald Chanel dress, holding a glass of sparkling water. Victoria Sterling looked at Adrian with a predatory, dazzling smile, ignoring the press around her.

"A magnificent speech, Adrian darling," Victoria’s voice carried clearly across the quiet stage. "But a fifty-one percent control requires liquidity to maintain. And according to the secondary loan covenants, your newly acquired firm owes Sterling Global thirty million dollars by midnight tonight... or the Waterfront Development defaults to my family."

The press roared, cameras swiveling instantly toward Victoria.

I stepped forward to the microphone before Adrian could speak, my voice cool, sharp, and commanding.

"You are referring to the 2018 credit facility, Ms. Sterling?" I asked, looking down at her from the stage.

Victoria smirked, stepping closer to the stage steps. "Precisely, darling. An old debt. Unpaid by your criminal father. And now due."

"If you had read the addendum to that credit facility, Ms. Sterling," I replied, pulling a thin document from my folder, "you would know that paragraph four explicitly states that any debt held by Sterling Global is subject to offset if evidence of market manipulation by the lender is produced."

Victoria’s smile faltered slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"I am talking about the three million dollars your father paid into Marcus Vance’s shell account in 2019 to suppress the environmental reports on the harbor," I declared, holding up a certified bank receipt. "Which means your debt is not only void... but Sterling Global is now under investigation for federal conspiracy."

Victoria’s face went dead white. She looked around as every camera in the room turned toward her, shutter speeds clicking frantically.