At my birthday party, my husband tied me to a ceiling beam and whipped me thirty times because I had stained his mistress’s dress.

Three weeks later.

The city of Chicago woke to a transformed skyline.

The massive neon letters reading VANCE GLOBAL on the tower at Wacker Drive had been completely dismantled by high-altitude crane crews, replaced temporarily by the blue-and-gold banner of the STERLING INFRASTRUCTURE GROUP.

Under Marcus and Julian’s supervision, the seventy-million-dollar municipal transit hub had been restructured. Every subcontractor who had been stiffed by Arthur and Isaac Vance was paid in full, with interest, using the recovered funds from Clover Gable’s Nevada accounts. The eight hundred union construction workers kept their jobs, their pensions, and their healthcare.

In the executive suite on the thirty-eighth floor, I sat behind the massive obsidian desk that had once belonged to my father-in-law.

The room was flooded with the warm, golden light of the late-afternoon sun setting over the lake.

My five brothers were with me. Noah stood by the window, sipping a single-malt whiskey; Leo was reviewing shipping manifests on his tablet; Julian was organizing the final corporate dissolution filings; Marcus was closing the forensic ledgers; and Caleb was running a final security diagnostic on our private family network.

“The criminal trial has been scheduled for November, Flora,” Julian said, placing a leather-bound folder on my desk. “Isaac’s attorneys are attempting to negotiate a twenty-year plea deal. Arthur is facing twelve years for federal procurement fraud. Wendy has officially filed for bankruptcy in Lake Forest.”

I opened the folder. Inside was the finalized divorce decree, signed by the Chief Judge of the Chancery Division, officially dissolving my marriage and restoring my legal name: Flora Sterling.

“Thank you, brothers,” I said, looking up at the five men who had dropped everything to answer my call. “For balancing the ledger.”

Noah walked over, resting a large, warm hand on my shoulder. “You’re a Sterling, Flora. Nobody strikes our blood and walks away clean.”

For the first time in five years, the constant, suffocating tension that had occupied my chest was entirely gone, replaced by an unshakeable, tranquil peace.