Sebastian Vale didn't need a reason to hate the Kanes. He'd always known something was off—the practiced smiles, the way Evelyn always reached for the wine glass a beat too fast, how Victor's charm soured the air like expensive rot.

But what he found in the confidential files was enough to stop even his practiced hands from moving. Photos. Medical reports. A school counselor's buried testimony. Anonymous notes stamped "unsubstantiated" by paid-off CPS agents. A name scribbled at the corner of each neglected report: hers.

He stared at the file. Then he read it again. And then he stood up, sharp and fast, chair scraping across the hardwood. The floor-to-ceiling windows of his office cast him in golden dusk, but nothing in him felt warm.

"Her own family," he murmured, voice razor-thin. "They let her starve."

His jaw flexed. He didn't move for a long time. Then he picked up his phone and dialed Lillian.

Lillian walked into the penthouse like she owned it—silk dress clinging like the world owed her something, smile already prepared.

"I got your message," she purred, eyes trailing the room before settling on him. "Miss me?"

Sebastian didn't answer. He held up the folder. Dropped it on the coffee table. It landed with a brutal slap.

"What's this?"

"Your parents," he said, voice level, "are monsters."

She blinked. Laughed. "Oh, that? God, Sebastian, everyone has a little family drama—"

"She lived in a basement, Lillian."

Silence.

"She was fifteen. You had your own walk-in closet, and she didn't even have heat." His voice darkened. "You knew. Didn't you?"

Her expression flickered. Guilt never looked good under candlelight.