The dining hall was a cathedral of sin.
High arched ceilings, chandeliers dripping with crystal, gold-trimmed walls, and a table long enough to seat a kingdom. At its head sat a man Ana had never seen in person but had feared her entire life.
Victor Nicholas.
Her father.
He hadn't aged the way she'd expected. His hair was silver, but his posture still carried power. He laughed too loudly, drank too slowly, and his eyes—those merciless eyes—swept the room like a predator surveying a cage of prey.
Ana stood beside Hayden, cloaked in the shadows near a servant's entrance. Her dress clung to her skin like regret, a sleek black number Hayden had insisted she wear "to blend in." She felt anything but invisible.
"What are we waiting for?" she whispered.
Hayden's jaw flexed. "The signal. My father's contact will light a cigarette. That's when we move."
The room buzzed with low conversation. People Ana had only seen on magazine covers or FBI files sipped vintage wine and traded stories of offshore empires. Men with too many rings. Women with too-red smiles. The air was thick with greed and perfume.
She spotted someone she recognized—a family friend from childhood. He looked different now. Meaner. More… hollow.
"I feel like I'm in a room full of ghosts," she murmured.
Hayden's voice was cold. "You are."
Then—movement.
A man near the head of the table reached into his jacket and lit a cigarette. A flash of flame. A nod in Hayden's direction.
"Now," Hayden growled.
He took Ana's hand and walked out of the shadows like he owned the floor.
Conversations stopped.
Forks paused mid-air.
Dozens of heads turned.
Victor Nicholas slowly stood, placing his napkin on the table. His mouth curled into something that might've been a smile, if it weren't so laced with poison.
"Well," Victor said. "The ghost returns."
Ana's breath caught.
Victor's eyes flicked to her.
"And he brought a pretty puppet."
Hayden didn't flinch. "Your daughter's no puppet. Though you tried to carve her into one."
Victor's laugh echoed off the marble. "Still so dramatic, Hayden. Just like your mother."
Ana saw it—the flicker in Hayden's eyes. Rage. Memory. Loss.
"You don't get to say her name," Hayden said.
Victor held out his arms. "You came here to make a scene? To assassinate me at the dinner table?"
"I came to end a legacy," Hayden said. "Yours."
People were whispering now. Cameras turned off. Guards shifted.
Victor's gaze darkened. "Do you really think this girl—this weak, naive little girl—is going to help you destroy everything I've built?"
Ana stepped forward.
Her voice shook, but only at first.
"She's not weak," she said. "She's the proof. Of what you did. Of how far you'd go to protect your empire."
Victor's mask cracked for a moment. Just a sliver.
"I never wanted you to suffer, Ana," he said. "That was your mother's idea. She said you were too soft to inherit anything worth ruling."
Ana blinked.
"You left me in a stranger's house," she whispered. "Changed my name. Hid me from the world."
"You're welcome," Victor said dryly. "It's why you're still alive."
"Alive?" she echoed. "You call that living?"
Victor turned back to Hayden. "What is it you want, Moretti? Money? Blood? A confession?"
"I want *you* to watch everything you built burn," Hayden said, voice low and vicious. "Like I watched my mother."
Gasps.
Some of the guests began to rise.
Victor sneered. "And what? You'll shoot me in front of my friends?"
Hayden's eyes glittered. "No. That would be too kind."
He pulled a small device from his jacket and pressed a button.
The walls of the room shifted.
Suddenly, a dozen hidden screens blinked to life—hidden behind mirrored panels. Surveillance footage. Documents. Audio recordings.
Blackmail. Bribes. Torture.
Victor Nicholas, exposed.
One woman screamed.
A man cursed and bolted for the door—only to be stopped by Hayden's guards.
Ana stepped forward, voice calm and clear.
"This is what your power cost. These are your sins. And now, the world will see them."
Victor's face twisted with fury. "You ungrateful *bitch*—"
Hayden's gun was out before the word left his mouth.
"Don't," Hayden warned. "Or I swear I won't miss."
Victor looked at him. Then at Ana.
Then—he laughed.
"You think you've won?" he said. "You think exposing *me* destroys this? This empire is bigger than one man. Cut off my head, and ten others grow."
Hayden smiled—just slightly.
"Then I'll burn the whole garden."
Before Victor could move, one of the guards behind him turned and shot him in the shoulder.
The old man dropped, roaring in pain.
The room erupted.
Chaos. Screams. People scrambling. Ana and Hayden stood still, untouched by the panic around them.
Victor writhed, blood soaking his white dinner jacket.
"You'll regret this," he snarled.
Hayden leaned down, voice cold as ice.
"I regret nothing."
He took Ana's hand.
"Let's go."
They walked through the mess they'd made, leaving behind a room full of monsters choking on their own secrets.
Outside, the night air hit them like salvation.
Ana turned to him. "We did it."
Hayden's face was unreadable.
"No," he said. "*You* did."
And for the first time, Ana didn't feel like a pawn.
She felt like a queen.