Ivy watched the press conference from her phone in the prison parking lot, the video quality grainy, Julian Vane's voice tinny through the small speaker but unmistakable, that same easy, terrible confidence he'd worn in the diner.

"There have been questions," Julian was saying, standing at a podium flanked by two lawyers Ivy didn't recognize, "about my son's judgment lately. About decisions made under significant emotional strain following the collapse of his engagement. I want to address those questions directly, and honestly, because this company deserves transparency from its leadership."

"Here it comes," Ivy muttered, hands shaking around the phone.

"Six days ago, Sterling Vane entered into a paid relationship...