rough the floorboards of the Hamptons estate

e dress. She looked exactly as Corinne Hogan intended: like a faded shadow. B

he wore a custom-made silver gown that caught every flash of the photographers' came

n hand, loudly boasting about her daughter's perfect match. Every so

, rectangular device hidden inside her clu

ceremonies tapped his microphone. A sh

beautiful union of Sloane and Julian, the families have prepared a short video

oom dimmed. The crowd m

r. She pressed it. A silent pulse of interf

lars in cash to swap the AV technician's USB drive with her own. Now, h

reens on the walls

tic montage. There

ad angle of a hotel bed. The audio kicked i

s were tangled in her hair. Their dirty talk echoed through the st

ballroom was dead silent. The

the ex

ering of dropped champagne gl

r looking like a corpse. She stared at the screen, her mouth opening in a

face ashen. He looked like h

ple. Corinne swayed on her feet, grabbing a cocktail table to keep from c

yboard, but Aspen's malicious code had locke

ike a strobe light. The

olute chaos, A

ectly crafted devastation. She forced her breathing to

staff. She picked up the spare microphone from the podi

cutting through the noise. She looked at the crowd, her eyes wide and shining with unshed te

rs turned into a roar. Former fiancée?

rd from the podium. The screens went black. The

ance and Corinne. They look

thout the mic. "The Fitzpatrick family will cancel the merger

plunging directly into

tening her spine. The fragile vic

ront row of reporters to hear. "I, Aspen Hogan, will take Sloane's place. I wi

ificing herself to the crippled heir to save the f

to Vance. She leaned in, her lips inches from

a price. The fifteen million dollar dowry investment meant for Sloane? It go

irl he had ignored for years, finally seeing

lack Maybach sat idling. Inside, Deron Fitzpatrick watched the

his lips. His finger sto

e murmured int