After that day, Damian and Seraphina became social pariahs.

The same people who had flattered them relentlessly now avoided them like the plague.

Damian, who had never faced true adversity, tried to prove his worth through business, desperate to show he was better than Cassius.

But he lacked Cassius's talent.

Simple ventures were one thing, but he insisted on pouring money into high-risk investments, trying to score a spectacular win that would restore his reputation in one stroke.

It never came.

His first major deal — a real estate development in the financial district — collapsed when his partners pulled out after learning about the engagement party scandal.

His second attempt, a tech startup acquisition, fell apart when due diligence revealed the company's patents were worthless.

Each failure made him more desperate, and desperation made him sloppy.

Meanwhile, Cassius was quietly, methodically expanding his influence.

The three subsidiaries Grandpa Orson had given him were now outperforming every other division in the Mantel Group. Revenue was up thirty percent. Employee satisfaction had doubled. Two new strategic partnerships had been signed with international firms.

The board was beginning to murmur a name that had never been spoken in the same breath as "heir" before: Cassius Mantel.

Damian couldn't stand it.

One evening, my father called me, his voice heavy with concern.

"Avery, Seraphina came to see me today."

"What did she want?"

"She asked me to intervene with the Mantel family on Damian's behalf. She says he's... struggling."

"He's hemorrhaging money on bad deals and blaming everyone else. That's not struggling, Father. That's incompetence."

A long pause.

"She's still my daughter, Avery."

The words stung, even though I knew he meant well. Seraphina had never been his biological daughter either — she was the child of his second wife, adopted into the Vance family. But my father had always been soft-hearted, unable to distinguish between loyalty and sentimentality.

"I know," I said gently. "But helping Damian now would mean undermining Cassius. And Grandpa Orson would see it as a betrayal."

"I just don't want anyone to get hurt."

"It's too late for that, Father."

I hung up feeling hollow.

The next blow came from an unexpected direction.

Damian, having exhausted his legitimate options, began dipping into company funds. It started small — redirecting marketing budgets, inflating expense reports, approving phantom consultants.

But Cassius had eyes everywhere.

"He's embezzling," Cassius told me one night, spreading documents across our dining table. "Not a lot — about two million so far. But the trail is unmistakable."

"Have you told Grandpa?"

"Not yet." He sat back, rubbing his temples. "If I expose him now, it tears the family apart. Grandpa's health isn't what it used to be."

"And if you don't?"

"He'll keep going until the damage is irreversible."

I picked up one of the documents — a wire transfer to an offshore account in Seraphina's name.

"She's in on it."

"Up to her neck," Cassius confirmed.

I made the decision for both of us.

"We tell Grandpa. But not directly. We let him find it himself."

Cassius raised an eyebrow. "How?"

"Annual audit is next month. We make sure the right auditor is assigned to Damian's divisions. Someone thorough. Someone Grandpa trusts."

A slow smile crossed Cassius's face.

"You know, when I agreed to this partnership, I thought I'd be the strategic one."

"You are," I said. "I'm just the ruthless one."

"And here I thought we were both."