Chandelier crashing down—he dove to save his first love's son, letting it hurtle toward our daughter. I shielded her desperately. She touched my face: "Mommy, let's leave daddy behind."

Security guards instantly surrounded Dylan and Sierra as the press swarmed them like locusts.

"Mr. Sterling! Is it true that your entire company was funded by your wife's family estate?!" "Miss Robles! Are you facing charges for the chandelier collapse?!" "Mr. Sterling, how do you respond to allegations of abandoning your daughter during a disaster?!"

Microphones were shoved into Dylan’s face. He waved his hands frantically, sweating through his shirt, his face contorted in humiliation.

"Get out of my way! Get off me!" Dylan screamed, trying to push through the crowd toward the stage. "Elena! Elena, let me speak to you!"

I didn't even look back at him. I walked down the side steps of the stage, guiding Haley toward a private VIP lounge where Arthur was waiting with a laptop open.

Two minutes later, the heavy oak doors of the VIP lounge were pushed open. Arthur signaled the security guards to let Dylan inside—alone. Sierra was stopped at the door by two guards who blocked her path with immovable steel arms.

"Elena!" Dylan burst into the room, gasping for air, his tie completely undone. "What are you doing?! You ruined me in front of the entire city! Every investor in that room just canceled their contracts!"

"You ruined yourself three weeks ago, Dylan," I said, taking a sip of sparkling water from a crystal flute. "I simply published the receipt."

"You lied to me!" Dylan shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. "You pretended to be a normal girl! You let me believe I was building an empire for us!"

"I built an empire for us," I corrected him coldly. "For our family. But you chose to hand it to a snake."

At that moment, Arthur tapped the laptop screen, turning it toward Dylan.

"Mr. Sterling," Arthur said smoothly. "Before you continue your childish outburst, perhaps you should review the investigative findings my team gathered regarding your 'frightened, helpless' first love, Sierra Robles."

Dylan blinked, looking down at the screen.

On the monitor were dozens of official bank statements, police reports, and private investigator surveillance photos.

"Sierra Robles’ late husband didn't die of illness," Arthur explained crisply. "He died in a federal prison while serving a sentence for wire fraud. Sierra spent the last three years running romance scams targeting wealthy, insecure men—specifically targeting you after she saw your company featured in Forbes magazine."

Dylan’s eyes widened in horror as he looked at the screen.

"And as for her four-year-old son, Ryan..." Arthur flipped to a certified medical document from a DNA lab in New Jersey. "Paternity tests confirm that Ryan is not your biological child, despite Sierra’s claims to you six months ago. His father is currently serving a fifteen-year sentence in Sing Sing."

Dylan read the document once, twice, three times. His hands began to shake violently.

"No... no, she said... she told me Ryan was mine from that night five years ago..." Dylan stammered, his voice breaking into a whimpering squeak. "She said she kept him a secret because she didn't want to ruin my marriage..."

"She used your guilt, your arrogance, and your obsession with being a savior to bleed you dry," I said, leaning forward, my voice dripping with cold disdain. "She siphoned four hundred thousand dollars from your personal line of credit over the last two months alone, transferring it into an offshore account in the Cayman Islands."

Dylan stood frozen, his world shattering into a thousand irrecoverable pieces. The woman he had sacrificed his daughter for—the woman he had thrown his body over while leaving his own child to die under falling glass—was nothing more than a cheap, calculating con artist who viewed him as an easy mark.

"I... I gave her everything..." Dylan whispered, collapsing into an armchair, burying his face in his hands as tears of utter devastation finally spilled through his fingers. "I gave up my daughter for her..."

"No, Dylan," I said, standing up and taking Haley’s hand. "You gave up your daughter for your own pathetic ego."

I walked past him toward the private exit.

As I reached the door, Dylan lifted his head, his face red and stained with tears. "Elena... please... let me see Haley. She's my daughter. You can't take her away from me!"