THE EMERALD RECKONING

The revelation hit the room like a sonic boom.

Investors who had poured millions into Michael’s latest real estate developments began shouting at once, pulling out their phones, frantically calling their chief financial officers, demanding immediate liquidations and forensic audits. The glittering facade of Michael Whitmore’s empire was dissolving into acid right before his eyes.

Chloe stared down at Michael, her expression shifting from furious bride to cold, calculating predator. She wasn't an idiot; she knew a sinking ship when she saw one. The multi-million-dollar prenup she had forced him to sign two days ago suddenly flashed through her mind, but she also knew that if her husband was indicted for federal fraud, his assets would be frozen, seized, and liquidated by the government before she could claim a single dime.

"You lied to me," Chloe whispered, her voice trembling with ice-cold fury as she looked down at the frosting-stained man crawling on the floor. "You told me your assets were clean. You told me you were a self-made titan."

"Chloe, wait, listen to me, it's a smear campaign, Zariah is lying—" Michael sputtered, reaching out a sticky, frosting-covered hand toward her designer heels.

Chloe recoiled as if she had touched a venomous snake, kicking his hand away with a sharp snap. "Don't touch me. This wedding is canceled. And I am filing for an immediate annulment."

She turned on her heel, hiking up her expensive lace train, and marched straight toward the exit, refusing to look back as her dream of high-society dominance turned into a public dumpster fire.

Zariah watched her go with a quiet, serene sense of closure. The woman who had once mocked her infertility, who had flaunted her stolen happiness like a trophy, was now fleeing the scene in utter disgrace.

Joon stepped up beside Zariah, offering his arm once more.

"Shall we finish our evening, love?" Joon asked softly, his eyes warm and completely indifferent to the chaotic theater playing out around them.