My father recovered first.
He pointed a trembling finger at me, shouting with false courage:
"Security! Someone call security!"

"Dad, this is the Imperial Grand, not your living room."
My legal team, in matching power suits, materialized behind me.
The lead attorney handed thick legal documents to Ethan, Ivy, and Ryan.
"Mr. Maxwell, Ms. Collins, Mr. Reed—meet my client, Miss Vivian Reed."
"You're being served with formal charges for fraud, attempted theft, forgery, and conspiracy."
Ryan's face went from white to gray.

He scrambled to his feet, looking for an escape.
But two plainclothes detectives blocked his path, badges already out.
"Ryan Reed, you're under arrest for conspiracy to commit fraud. You have the right to remain silent."
The metallic click of handcuffs echoed as they closed around his shaking wrists.

"Sis! Please! I'm sorry! Make them stop! SIS!"
He was blubbering now, snot and tears streaming down his face.
I didn't even look at him.
I approached Ethan, still crumpled on the floor.
His briefcase had fallen open, revealing the now-blank documents.
I calmly picked it up, removed the stack of papers, and held them up for everyone to see.
Then, with every eye in the room on me.
One.
By.
One.
I let the confetti of their greed rain down on Ethan's head as he clutched at my legs:
"Vivi, baby, I made a terrible mistake. Please forgive me. We can fix this!"
I stared down at him, my gaze arctic.
"You never loved me—only my money. Now you'll have neither."
Ivy shrieked and lunged for me, claws aimed at my face.
"You manipulative bitch!"
I sidestepped smoothly and delivered a ringing slap across her face.
The crack echoed through the silent room.
"My things? I'd sooner feed them to stray dogs than let you touch them."
My father jabbed a shaking finger at me, his face purple with rage:
"You… ungrateful little…"
I took the final document from my attorney.
A family severance declaration, already bearing my signature.
I placed it before him like a judge delivering a sentence.
"From the moment you celebrated my death, I ceased to be your daughter."
Finally, I turned to the cameras and the millions watching beyond them.
"Thank you all for tuning in to the most savage reality show of the century."
"The Last Thirty Days of a Good Person."
"We are now officially wrapped."
That bizarre funeral became the internet's favorite scandal overnight.
But after the viral storm came the real-world consequences.
The next day, Ethan and Ivy's company publicly fired them both, citing "gross violations of ethical standards" and announced lawsuits against them for damaging the company's reputation.
Their careers and social lives simultaneously went up in flames.
Ryan's case moved quickly through the justice system.
With millions of witnesses and ironclad evidence, the verdict was a foregone conclusion.
Three years behind bars—the judge didn't even hesitate.
His girlfriend—the would-be lady of my apartment—vanished with what little cash my mother had transferred to his account, disappearing the very day he was arrested.
My parents became neighborhood pariahs.
They couldn't buy milk without facing a gauntlet of whispers and pointing fingers.
Desperate, they found some bottom-feeding tabloid willing to air their sob story:
"We sacrificed everything for that girl! What's wrong with expecting some support in return? She's destroyed our lives out of spite!"
The comments section showed zero sympathy—just thousands of variations on "You got exactly what you deserved."
I blocked their numbers, emails, and social media accounts.
My world instantly became more peaceful.
Nathan called to tell me they'd shown up at the hospital ranting about lawsuits until security dragged them out.
Word got around that they'd blown through their retirement savings on legal fees and downsized from their longtime home to a damp basement apartment.
They made their bed.
Not revenge—just the natural consequences of their own actions.