*BANG.*
I kicked the door open.
Sara Graves sat in the seat of honor, wearing a crimson cheongsam that hugged every curve. A pearl hairpin glinted in her hair. She looked radiant. Seductive.
And I stood there—bloated, recovering from birth, face stained with melasma.
We were two different species.
Our eyes met.
Sara rose, a smug smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, look who it is. *Mrs. Vance.*"
She raised her wine glass in a mocking toast.
"You came at just the right time. I should thank you—for giving birth to such adorable babies. *For me.*"
Adrian must have called her. She knew the game was up. No need to hide anymore.
A cold smile spread across my face.
I strode into the room, grabbed the edge of the banquet table with one hand—
And flipped it.
The champagne tower crashed down, glass shattering, liquid spraying everywhere. Screams erupted as the crowd scrambled back.
"Boys, tear it up." The lead thug's voice scraped like gravel. "Fifty grand a head. I take the heat for any fallout."
A chorus of raucous shouts exploded from his crew. "You got it, Sis! Consider this part of the premium service."