My father d:ie:d suddenly, and when I rushed to the

“That’s impossible!” Beverly shrieked, standing up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. “You’re his wife! Community property laws apply in California! Half of everything you own belongs to Edwin!”

Arthur Wayne stepped forward, pulling a single blue-sealed document from his briefcase.

“Mrs. Vance,” Arthur said, his tone dry enough to ignite paper. “On June 14, 2021—three days before the wedding—your son signed a comprehensive Prenuptial and Asset Separation Agreement. In that document, drafted by his own insistence because he believed Camila’s father was an insolvent burden, Edwin explicitly waived all rights, claims, and future interest in any inheritance, trust, or business entity associated with the Stanford name.”

Edwin’s head snapped toward his mother, his eyes wild with sudden terror.

“Mother...” Edwin stammered, his voice trembling. “You... you told me to sign that... you said it would protect my car collection from her family...”

“Silence!” Beverly snapped, though her face had turned the color of ash. She turned her glare back to Camila. “This is a trap! You lied to us! You let us believe your father was poor!”

“I never told you my father was poor, Beverly,” Camila said calmly, closing the binder in front of her with a soft thud. “When I met Edwin, I asked him if we could live simply. He told me he was a self-made man who didn't care about money. I believed him. So I let him build his life. I wanted to see if he loved me for who I was, or for what my family could do for him.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the dark wood table.

“For five years, I cooked your meals. I cleaned your house. I let you mock my clothes, my hair, and my father’s old truck. I watched my sister-in-law steal my mother’s pearl earrings from my jewelry box—”

“I didn't steal them!” Annika yelled, her face turning crimson. “You left them on the counter! I just borrowed them!”

“—and I said nothing,” Camila continued, completely ignoring the interruption. “Because my father taught me that money reveals a person’s true character. And you, Edwin... your character was worth less than the dust under your dog’s paws.”

Edwin reached across the table, his hands shaking, his voice dropping into a desperate, pleading whisper. “Cami... baby... please. We’re married. We’re a family. I was stressed last night! The storm... the dog... I was just joking! You know how I get when I’m tired!”

“You asked me to crawl under your dog three times to see my dying father, Edwin,” Camila said. Her voice was terrifyingly devoid of emotion. “That wasn't a joke. That was who you really are.”

She looked over at Harrison Cole.

“Mr. Cole.”

“Yes, Miss Stanford?” the CFO replied instantly.

“Issue an immediate termination notice for Edwin Vance, effective immediately. Revoke his security credentials, cancel his corporate vehicle lease for the Porsche, and initiate a full forensic audit of the Crestview development fund for the past thirty-six months.”

“Right away, ma'am.”

“You can't fire me!” Edwin roared, standing up completely now, his fists slamming onto the table. “I run the sites! The sub-contractors answer to me! The union leads know me!”

“The sub-contractors haven't been paid in sixty days, Edwin,” Camila replied smoothly, pulling a second sheet of paper from the file. “Because you transferred four hundred thousand dollars from the payroll account last month to fund your mother’s new garden renovation in Bel Air and buy a yacht deposit in Newport Beach.”

Edwin froze. The blood drained so completely from his face that he looked like a corpse standing in the sunlight.

“Forensic accountants entered the Crestview offices at four o'clock this morning,” Camila added softly. “If those funds are not fully restored to the corporate treasury by five o'clock today, Attorney Wayne will file a formal complaint with the Los Angeles District Attorney’s Financial Crimes Division.”

Beverly gasped, grabbing her chest. “Edwin! What is she talking about? You said that money was from your performance bonus!”

“Shut up, Mother!” Edwin screamed, losing his composure entirely. He turned his rage back onto Camila. “You think you can just destroy me?! I’m your husband! You can't put your own husband in prison!”

“Watch me,” Camila said.

She stood up slowly, picking up her leather handbag.

“You have one hour to clear your personal belongings from the executive suite, Edwin. Leave the keys to the Porsche on the desk. Security will escort you from the building.”

She turned her back on them and began walking toward the exit.

“Camila!” Edwin sprinted around the table, reaching out to grab her arm.

Before his hand could even touch her wool sleeve, two six-foot-four security officers stepped smoothly between them, grabbing Edwin by his shoulders and pinning his arms firmly behind his back.

“Get your hands off me!” Edwin struggled violently, his polished shoes sliding uselessly across the marble floor. “Camila! Look at me! You loved me! You promised to honor and obey! You can't do this to me!”

Camila paused at the heavy double doors. She didn't look back.