Tessa Monroe was on the floor with Grant’s eighteen-month-old son pressed against her chest, one arm curved around the back of his head while she struggled to catch her breath. The child’s face was buried against her shoulder, his small body shaking with the uneven sobs that came after crying too hard for too long.

The boardroom was dead silent.

The lead FBI agent stepped forward, pulling a thick manila folder from his leather briefcase.

“Victor Cross? Vivienne Cross?” the agent announced in a loud, official tone. “You are both under federal arrest for corporate espionage, wire fraud, conspiracy to commit extortion, and unlawful restraint.”

“This is outrageous!” Victor shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Grant. “You have no evidence!”

Owen Park stepped up to the main boardroom monitor, plugging a USB drive into the console.

The sixty-inch display instantly illuminated with a series of bank transfer records, wiretap transcripts, and high-definition security video from St. Jude Recovery Center showing Vivienne paying Dr. Vance two million dollars in cash to keep Elena drugged and hidden.

Next, the screen showed the erased surveillance footage from Mercer Manor—including the moment Vivienne attempted to feed Leo a tranquilizer solution to orchestrate a fake domestic emergency that would discredit Tessa and Grant.

The board members gasped in horror. Several stood up from their chairs, backing away from the Cross family as if they were poisonous.

“You tried to poison my eighteen-month-old son, Vivienne,” Grant said, stepping into Vivienne’s personal space. His eyes were like polished flint. “You tried to destroy my wife. And you tried to steal my company.”

Vivienne looked at Grant, her composure completely disintegrating. Tears of panic spilled over her mascara as she reached out to touch his arm. “Grant, please! I did it for us! Elena wasn't good enough for you! She was weak! I could have helped you build an empire!”

Grant looked at her hand on his sleeve with utter disgust. He brushed her arm away as if she were a insect.

“You’re sick, Vivienne,” Grant said flatly. “And you’re going to prison for a very long time.”

The federal agents stepped in, snapping steel handcuffs around Vivienne’s and Victor’s wrists.

As Vivienne was led out of the boardroom in tears, screaming wildly at her father’s legal team, the board members stood up and began clapping, offering Grant and Elena their full, unconditional support.

Grant turned to his wife. He reached out, taking her hand into his, pressing a warm, lingering kiss against her knuckles.

“It’s over, Elena,” Grant whispered.