The laughter faded into a tense, suffocating silence.

All eyes turned toward us.

Julian was the first to react, stepping forward with his brow furrowed in anger.

“What is the meaning of this?” Julian demanded, his voice echoing in the silent hall.

“This is a private charity event,” Julian added, glaring at the agents.

Vance didn’t stop walking until he was ten feet away from him.

“Julian Thorne,” Vance said, pulling a folded document from his jacket.

“I have a federal warrant for your arrest,” Vance announced.

Julian’s face flushed a deep, angry red.

“This is absurd,” Julian spat, looking around the room at his wealthy peers.

“Call our lawyers, Eleanor,” Julian said.

Eleanor did not move a muscle.

Her eyes locked onto mine, cold and venomous.

“You should have signed the papers, Madeline,” she whispered.

“It’s over, Eleanor,” I said, stepping out from behind Vance.

“The offshore accounts, the shell companies, the wire transfers,” I said. “We have all of it.”

“Federal agents are executing search warrants on your offices and residences as we speak,” Miller added.