“My husband, the tech billionaire I adored, sent his men to take me to an undisclosed location. When we arrived, I found our sixteen-year-old daughter, Julianne, on a stage, being auctioned off like a piece of art to a crowd of sick elites. My husband, Everett, used this to blackmail me into resigning from my career. But after Julianne's subsequent suicide attempt, he let his mistress-an unqualified researcher-perform the surgery, leaving our daughter in a permanent vegetative state. He publicly humiliated me, claiming our marriage was a lie and that I was a stalker. He forced me to kneel and beg for my daughter's life, only to let his mistress shatter my surgeon's hand with a trophy. After they pulled the plug on Julianne, they tricked my mother and me into drinking her ashes. They left my mother for dead at the bottom of a flight of stairs. As I knelt over her broken body, my grief finally turned into a cold, hard resolve. When Everett texted, demanding my presence at his celebration party, I replied with two words. "I'll be there."”