Five minutes after my divorce was final, my dad told me to block every single card—and that same night, my ex-husband tried to spend nearly a million dollars on his mistress and was publicly destroyed.

The USB drive was a gold mine.

Everything Vanessa had said was true.

And worse.

Michael had been selling my designs for two and a half years.

Over forty separate transactions.

Totaling more than eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

Every major competitor had bought from him.

Some had bought multiple times.

They knew exactly what I was designing.

Exactly what I was charging.

Exactly how to undercut me and steal my clients.

It was a miracle I hadn’t lost more business.

A miracle I’d worked sixteen-hour days to overcome.

Uncle Tomas filed the civil suit that Friday.

Forty-seven pages.

Twenty-three separate causes of action.

Against Michael.

Against Diego.

Against every single competitor who’d bought my designs.

Total damages: twenty-eight million dollars.

The papers were served at 9:00 a.m.

Michael was served at his apartment.

Diego was served in jail.

The competitors were served at their offices.

By noon, the news was everywhere.

Salazar Sues For $28 Million.

Industrial Espionage Exposed.

The competitors panicked.

By the end of the day, three of them had already called to settle.

They didn’t want the bad press.

Didn’t want the criminal charges that were sure to follow.

They offered money.

Apologies.

Anything to make it go away.

I didn’t care about their apologies.

But I took their money.

Every last cent.

Michael didn’t panic.

He got angry.

Really angry.

He showed up at my office at 5:30 that evening.

Pushed past the receptionist.

Slammed his way into my private office.

I was alone.

Sarah had left for the day.

Carlos’s security guys were downstairs.

They hadn’t seen him come in the back entrance.

Michael stood in my doorway.

Face red.

Eyes wild.

“You think you’re so smart,” he snarled. “You think you’ve won? You think twenty-eight million dollars means anything? I’ll burn this whole company to the ground before I let you have a penny of it.”

I stood up slowly.

Kept my face calm.

My hand drifted under the desk.

To the panic button Dad had installed.

“Get out of my office, Michael.”

“Or what?” he screamed, stepping closer. “You’ll call the cops? I’d like to see them prove I did anything. That whore Vanessa is lying. She made it all up. Those emails are fake. You planted them. Just like you planted everything else.”

He was three feet away now.

I could smell the whiskey on his breath.

He’d been drinking.

“Michael,” I said, keeping my voice even. “You have thirty seconds to leave this office before I have you arrested for trespassing. And violating your bail conditions. You’ll go straight back to jail. No more bail. No more second chances.”

He laughed.

A harsh, ugly sound.

“You think I care about jail anymore? You’ve already destroyed my life. My reputation. Everything. I’ve got nothing left to lose.”

He lunged.

I hit the panic button.

The door burst open two seconds later.

Carlos and two of his cousins were there.

They had Michael off me and on the floor before he could touch me.

He struggled.

Screamed.

Spit.

“You’ll pay for this, Mari! You’ll all pay! I’m going to—”

Carlos punched him.

Hard.

Right in the mouth.

Michael went quiet.

Dazed.

“Shut up,” Carlos said, his voice like gravel. “You don’t get to talk to her like that. You don’t get to be within a hundred feet of her ever again. Understand?”

The police arrived five minutes later.

They cuffed Michael.

Read him his rights.

Took him away.

This time, there would be no bail.

Assault.

Trespassing.

Violation of a restraining order we’d filed weeks earlier.

Threats against my life.

He’d be in a cell until trial.

And the trial date was already set.

Three months away.

I stood in my office.

Shaken but unhurt.

Carlos stood by the door.

“Are you okay, prima?”

I nodded.

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Not fine enough,” he said. “I’m moving two guys into the building with you. They’ll be outside your office door from now on. And I’m having a security system installed at your house. Cameras everywhere. Motion sensors. Panic buttons in every room. No one gets to you. Ever again.”

I wanted to argue.

But I didn’t.

Because Michael had been right about one thing.