“Execute Protocol Ruin on Preston Vance’s logistics startup,” Damian ordered, his voice devoid of any mercy. “Cancel all his shipping lane access immediately. Call in his corporate debts. Furthermore, check the registration on the Ocean’s Pearl.”
“Checking… Sir, the Ocean’s Pearl is leased to Mr. Vance through our luxury subsidiary, Blackwood Charters.”
“Revoke the lease effective immediately,” Damian commanded. “The client is in breach of conduct. Repossess the vessel.”
“Understood, Sir. It is done.”
Damian hung up.
“No!”
The scream was guttural, raw, and full of absolute despair. Preston, the arrogant groom who had mocked me ten minutes ago, dropped to his knees on the wooden dock. He scrambled forward, his expensive suit dragging in the mud.
“Mr. Blackwood, please! You can’t do this!” Preston wailed, tears streaming down his face, completely abandoning any shred of dignity. “I didn’t push her! It was her father! I beg you! If you pull my shipping access, my company is dead! And this yacht… my investors are on board!”
Damian looked down at him with an expression of supreme indifference. “You should have checked who owned the ocean before you threw my daughter into it. Viktor. Clear my ship.”
Instantly, the heavily armed tactical team stormed up the boarding ramp of the Ocean’s Pearl.
“Everybody off the vessel! Now!” Viktor’s voice boomed.
Panic erupted. The wealthy investors, socialites, and my terrified family were forcefully herded off the luxury yacht like common criminals, stumbling down the ramp onto the cold, muddy dock while Damian and I stood by and watched their empire burn to ash.
Vanessa, realizing that her fairy-tale life as a wealthy CEO’s wife had just evaporated in a span of thirty seconds, burst into loud, hysterical, ugly sobs. She ran down the ramp, ignoring the mud ruining her designer engagement dress, and dropped to her knees beside Preston.
My parents, seeing their golden child’s future entirely ruined and their social standing obliterated, finally snapped out of their shock. They rushed forward on the dock, but before they could get within five feet of us, Viktor stepped in, placing a heavy hand on Arthur’s chest and shoving him violently backward.
“Serena, please!” my mother sobbed, her hands clasped in prayer, the elite façade completely destroyed. “We’re sorry! We were wrong! We’ll do anything! Just forgive us, please, tell him to stop!”
