My sister threw a glass of liquid in my face at her wedding and laughed that it was “just a joke”—but three days later, police arrived with a lab report that exposed what she had really done.

By midday, the internet had completely broken.

The viral video of Fallon’s wedding prank—initially scrubbed by her management team—had already been downloaded, mirrored, and re-uploaded across every major social media platform by independent internet sleuths and news aggregators. Within twelve hours, the hashtag #WeddingAcidPrank and #HouseOfFallonScandal were trending globally, generating over fifty million impressions.

Maya propped her phone up on the hospital tray table, streaming a live broadcast from a prominent legal commentary channel.

"...and for those just tuning in," the anchor was saying, her expression a mix of shock and morbid fascination, "what was initially marketed as an eccentric, high-fashion wedding stunt has now erupted into one of the most explosive criminal cases of the year. Fallon Ward, the lifestyle influencer boasting over three million followers, remains in police custody alongside her mother, Sibil Ward, following an alleged chemical attack on Fallon's older sister, corporate risk actuary Sloan Ward..."

The screen cut to footage of Fallon and Sibil being led out of the courthouse in zip-tie cuffs, their designer clothing wrinkled, their faces desperately hidden from the flashing cameras of the press corps.

"Legal experts are calling this an unprecedented corporate takedown," the anchor continued. "Analysts confirm that within twenty-four hours of the incident, emergency bankruptcy and asset receivership motions filed by corporate representatives have entirely dismantled the Ward family holding entities. Fallon Ward’s brand partnerships—including multi-million-dollar deals with cosmetics and luxury fashion giants—have terminated all contracts citing severe moral turpitude clauses..."

I turned my head away from the screen, focusing instead on the gentle hum of the saline drip.

My phone buzzed continuously on the bedside table. Unknown numbers, reporters sniffing for an exclusive interview, distant relatives expressing sudden, hypocritical shock and sympathy. I ignored them all, setting my phone to "Do Not Disturb" and locking the screen.

The door to my hospital room opened quietly. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped inside, carrying a thick leather briefcase. It was Marcus Vance, senior partner at Vance & Sterling Corporate Litigation, and the top legal defense and asset recovery attorney in the state.

"Sloan," Marcus said, offering a tight, respectful nod as he approached the bed. "They told me down at the nurses' station that you were already back to auditing financial portfolios before the morning rounds."

"Painkillers make me restless, Marcus," I replied, gesturing to the chair. "And I prefer my financial audits clean and legally binding."

Marcus pulled up a chair, unzipping his briefcase and pulling out a stack of heavy, bound legal documents. "Well, your preliminary asset seizure motions went through without a single judicial hitch. The D.A.’s office is treating the chemical procurement and delivery records as an open-and-shut case of premeditated aggravated assault with a deadly weapon."

He slid a document across the table. "More importantly, we’ve begun mapping the secondary asset trails. Sibil and your father attempted to transfer three commercial real estate properties into an offshore trust late last night, likely realizing their accounts were frozen."

I glanced at the transfer logs on the paper, a cold smile touching my lips. "Amateur hour. Under state fraudulent transfer statutes, any asset movement executed within seventy-two hours of a pending criminal investigation or civil liability filing is automatically voidable."

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"Precisely," Marcus said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "We’ve already flagged those transfers with the state registry. Those commercial properties are now locked under the receivership order as well. By the time the civil lawsuits and restitution orders are finalized, the Ward family estate won't just be bankrupt—it’ll be completely dissolved."

"Good," I said, leaning back. "Make sure every penny recovered is properly accounted for. I want zero loopholes for them to claw back through."