BLOOD AND CHAMPAGNE: THE RECKONING OF ELENA VANCE

The armored vehicle crashed directly through the remnants of the grand entrance, pinning two of Victor’s bodyguards beneath the masonry. Special Tactical Commandos in federal uniforms swarmed through the breach, their orders echoing through megaphones.

""Federal agents! Drop your weapons!""

Arthur Pendelton stepped out from behind the tactical line, holding a federal seizure order. Beside him was the Director of the FBI’s Special Operations Division.

""Victor Thorne,"" the Director announced. ""Thanks to Miss Sterling’s automated transmission, a warrant for high treason and enterprise corruption was signed by the Supreme Court two hours ago. You are completely compromised.""

Victor’s composure shattered. He spun around, pulling a concealed firearm, attempting to use the chaos to sprint toward the rear garden exit.

Elena didn't hesitate. She vaulted over the second-floor railing, landing gracefully on the velvet sofa below, and sprinted after him into the misty garden.

Victor stumbled across the wet grass, turning around to fire wildly. Elena tackled him into the marble fountain, the freezing water splashing around them, mirroring the night everything had begun.

She pinned his arm against the stone basin, disarming him with a brutal strike to his wrist. Victor gasped for breath, staring up into Elena’s hazel eyes—the spitting image of the woman who had defied him a quarter of a century earlier.

""It’s over, Victor,"" Elena whispered, her face inches from his. ""Camille won.""

Federal agents rushed the garden, pulling Victor out of the fountain and forcing him onto the grass in heavy steel cuffs.

Julian walked into the garden, his arm bandaged, stopping beside Elena. The morning sun broke through the clouds, bathing the estate in warm, golden light.

Elena looked down at her hands, no longer smelling of cheap kitchen soap or chilled champagne, but scarred with the grit of a survivor who had claimed her throne.