Roxanne felt her blood burning in her veins as she stared across the table at Cara, but she kept her face completely smooth, a mask of calm composure.

Just then, Cara’s sharp gaze swung over and landed on her. She instantly sneered, turning a disgusted look toward Margaret. "What is this scandalous woman still doing sitting at a Vance table? Why hasn’t she been fired yet?"

"Are you disappointed she’s still here?" Pamela asked, her tone dripping with accusation as she glared fiercely at Cara.

Cara shifted her gaze slowly, deliberately tracking the movement. She looked down at the half-empty crystal glass sitting in front of Pamela before raising her eyes to look at her face. "Have you been drinking again, Pamela?" she asked, her voice airy and dismissive.

Pamela looked down at her glass, her brows pulling into a tight, defensive frown as she shook her head. "I am not drunk. I—"

"But you certainly sound like you’ve been hitting the bottle," Cara cut in smoothly, turning to address the entire board. "I truly hope no one at this table has been taking a single word she says seriously. She is rarely sober these days."

Pamela’s face twisted with pure rage. "How dare you say that to me—!"

Cara completely ignored her, shifting her focus straight back to Roxanne. "And why are you still occupying that chair? Haven’t you done enough damage to this family name? Why don’t you just have some dignity, get up, and leave this room?" Each word was laced with unfiltered venom.

"The only person entirely out of place at this table is you, Cara, and no matter how many times Mother invites you, you will always be a desperate outsider," Pamela shot back before Roxanne could even formulate a reply. "My brother will never want you. You will never bear the Vance last name."

Cara’s perfect features hardened into stone as she glared at Pamela.

"Be quiet, Pamela! You will show her the proper respect," Margaret intervened, her voice sharp and unyielding. "Cara is sitting at this table today because she has my explicit invitation. If anyone should be excused from this room, it should be you, followed immediately by Roxanne."

Roxanne merely shook her head, a cold detachment settling over her. Pamela glared at her mother but remained silent.

Cara turned a sweet, comforted smile toward Margaret. "Thank you for your loyalty, Margaret. I am so incredibly sorry for the emotional turmoil this mess is causing you." She turned back to face the rest of the board, throwing her hands up.

"Can’t the rest of you see how much Lady Vance is suffering under this scandal? Why won’t you just vote to fire that woman already? Or has this board suddenly grown weak and sentimental? I never imagined I would walk in here today and find her still clinging to her seat," she added, reaching out to grasp Margaret’s hand.

Margaret smiled warmly, covering Cara’s manicured fingers with her other hand in a rare display of affection. "I only wish everyone else in this family possessed your clarity, Cara. You are the only person at this table who truly understands my position."

Henry let out a heavy, exhausted sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Cara was invited down here for a very specific reason, Margaret. Can we finally get to the point?"

Cara smiled brightly, tilting her head toward Henry. "Oh, Mr. Vance. Whatever do you mean? Why am I here?" she asked, her tone dripping with faux-innocence. "You all know I will always show up to support this family in a crisis."

Henry shook his head, his expression totally flat. "No one requested your support, Cara. We are perfectly capable of managing our own corporate problems," he said, his tone quiet but piercingly curt.

Cara’s smile wavered, her shoulders stiffening as she adjusted her posture. "Then why exactly did you call me here, Margaret?" she asked, looking at the older woman for protection.

"Because I told them the truth," Pamela answered loudly, leaning across the table. "I told them that you had everything to do with the video currently circulating in the media."

The air was sucked out of the room.

Cara’s face went completely white, the color draining from her lips. Her frantic gaze darted to Margaret, then to Henry, sweeping across every single executive at the table before landing squarely on Pamela.

"Pamela, have you lost your mind?" She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing painfully. "Why would you manufacture such a horrible lie?"

Pamela looked at her, shaking her head. "You know it’s the truth," she said, her tone certain.

Cara scoffed, her face twisted with disbelief. "Margaret, surely you don’t believe this," she said, her tone desperate. "Richard, you know me. She’s lying," she said, her voice shaking.

But no one spoke. All eyes were fixed on her.

"Why won’t you just tell the truth?" Pamela asked her.

"If you really did this, then you better start talking," Nicholas said, his gaze stern as he looked at her.

"You actually believe a drunk over me? This is ridiculous!" Cara shouted, looking around the table, her fingers trembling. "Is this why you called me here, Margaret? To embarrass me?" she demanded.

Margaret shook her head. "No, Cara. I told them you are innocent. They wanted to hear you say it," she said.

"You are the one with motivation at this table," Henry said calmly. "Instead of getting angry, why don’t you just calmly tell us what the truth is?"

"Yes, because I know what I saw. You were talking to Christian. Why were you talking to him?" Pamela said, her tone firm as she threw her accusation.

Cara swallowed, looking around the room. Then her eyes began to sparkle as tears pooled in them. A single tear slid down her cheek as she looked at Richard.

Roxanne watched the tears spill with perfect timing. Not a single strand of Cara’s carefully styled hair had moved.

Cara shook her head, turning a desperate look toward Margaret. "I can’t endure this anymore, Margaret," she said, her voice cracking with dramatic agony. "Pamela has always hated me. Richard treats the doorman with far more dignity than he treats me. Even Henry refuses to accept me as his future daughter-in-law. Nicholas barely even acknowledges my existence when I walk into a room."

It took every ounce of Roxanne’s restraint not to let out a loud, mocking laugh at the sheer absurdity of the performance. The crying was loud. The eyes, however, remained calculating.

Margaret watched her with deep worry, patting her arm. "Please, Cara dear, calm yourself."

Cara shook her head frantically, sniffling as she dabbed her eyes. "No, I can’t put up with this constant rejection for another second. It’s too much for me to bear." Before Margaret could stop her, she pushed her chair back and stood up. "I’m leaving."

"Sit down. Now, Cara." Richard’s voice sliced through her hysterics like a physical blade. It wasn’t a shout; it was entirely calm, but it vibrated with an absolute authority that locked everyone in their seats.

Cara froze, her chest heaving as she stared at him in terror. Slowly, reluctantly, she dropped back into her chair.

"Excellent. Now we can proceed," Richard stated, his dark eyes boring into her. He leaned forward, planting his large hands flat on the table, his presence dominating the entire room.

"No one is crossing the threshold of those doors until we get the exact truth of how that video was leaked. And I sincerely hope for your sake, Cara, that your hands are clean, because if you are the traitor, I will have absolutely no reason to show you mercy."

Cara swallowed hard, her hands trembling as the heavy silence of the room closed in around her.