THE NIGHT THE GOLDEN MASK CRACKED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF LONG BURIED SECRETS

The flashlights of the federal marshals swept across the sprawling conservatory, painting sharp white arcs over the indoor palm trees and the glittering glass panes. Victoria was hauled roughly to her feet by two agents, her expensive gold evening gown torn and stained with marble dust. Her hair had come undone, strands of blonde clinging to her sweat-slicked face as she was slapped with steel handcuffs that clicked with a chilling, final metallic ring.

She didn't scream or thrash anymore. Instead, her eyes locked onto Arthur with a cold, dead stare as she was dragged past him toward the exit.

"You think this is the end of the web, Arthur?" Victoria muttered as she passed his shoulder, her voice low enough for only him to hear. "Check the secondary offshore accounts before dawn. You'll find my name isn't the only one on the signature cards."

Arthur didn't flinch. He closed the heavy leather journal firmly, the sound cutting through the quiet room like a gavel falling in a courtroom. "Take her away," he instructed the lead marshal without turning his head.

The agents escorted Victoria out into the night, the heavy iron doors swinging shut behind them with a heavy, echoing thud. The conservatory suddenly felt vast, cold, and entirely empty.

Julian exhaled a long, shaky breath, running a hand through his neatly combed hair as he looked down at the empty floor where Victoria had been pinned. "Do you think she was bluffing about the secondary accounts, Arthur? Or is there someone else still inside the trust?"

"Victoria never bluffed about money," Arthur said, his voice grim as he looked down at Maya, who was leaning sleepily against his leg, her small fingers clutching his tuxedo trousers. "She always kept a safety net. And if her name isn't the only one on those cards, it means someone else in this family helped her orchestrate the cover-up from the very beginning."

Arthur knelt down, gently lifting Maya back into his arms. The little girl rested her head on his shoulder, her eyelids drooping with exhaustion after the terrifying ordeal.

"We need to get her upstairs to bed," Julian said, glancing nervously toward the dark hallway leading back to the main house. "And then we need to open the main terminal and audit every single active transfer protocol before the international markets open in Tokyo."