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The shot chipped the marble mantle behind Eleanor, sending a shower of white dust over her shoulders.

Before Caroline could fire a second time, Julian Vance lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and twisting the gun from her fingers. He threw her to the floor with a brutal, heavy blow to her face.

"Stupid b*tch," Julian spat, wiping the white dust from his jacket. "She’s as useless as her sister."

"Bring the documents," Eleanor said, her voice completely undisturbed by her daughter’s betrayal. "And clean this up. Now."

The guards stepped forward, their heavy boots thudding on the carpet.

I clutched the plastic envelope to my chest, my back pressed against the wood paneling, my eyes searching the room for any way out.

But we were trapped.

The only exit was blocked by Eleanor, Julian, and three armed men. Clara was bleeding beside me, her breathing shallow and rattled. Caroline lay unconscious on the floor near the fireplace.

"Give it to me, Rachel," Eleanor said, extending her hand. "And I will make sure your death is painless."

"I will see you in hell first," I said.

Suddenly, a loud, crashing sound echoed from the main dining room.

The glass walls of L'Étoile d'Or shattered inward with a deafening roar, a shower of glittering crystal falling over the tables and chairs.

Through the dust and debris, a dozen tactical officers in black body armor and helmets burst into the room, their weapons raised.

"Federal agents! Put your weapons down! Now!"

At the front of the team stood Mark Vance—Julian’s younger brother, his face dark with a cold, righteous fury.

"Drop the guns!" Mark roared, pointing his rifle directly at Julian’s chest.

The guards hesitated, looking at Eleanor for instruction.

But Eleanor didn't say a word. For the first time in her life, her face was completely still, the cold realization of her defeat settling over her like a shroud.

Julian screamed, reaching for his pocket, but before his hand could touch the metal, two federal agents lunged forward, throwing him to the ground and slamming his face into the marble floor.

"It’s over, Eleanor," Mark said, stepping into the private dining room and looking down at his brother's handcuffs. "The FBI has been monitoring the Aurelius Group accounts for three weeks. We have the transport team in custody. They talked."

He looked at me, his eyes softening as he knelt beside Clara and me.

"Are you okay?"

"Save Clara," I whispered, handing him the plastic envelope. "The proof is inside. Everything they did."