“Five years. Four hundred million dollars. And the wedding dress was never mine. I found out on a Tuesday-a C-list actress draped in my custom Vera Wang, hanging off my fiancé's arm. Six months of French lace. Six meters of Italian silk. Every stitch a promise I had made to myself: someone finally chose me for me. He locked the doors of that boutique. Froze my cards. Threatened my friends. Told the world I was just a delusional former assistant who didn't know her place. The internet called me crazy, a liar, a desperate woman who couldn't take a hint. His name trended everywhere. My accounts got suspended before I could say a word. What he never knew: his empire ran on my capital. His patents were mine. His executive assistant had been feeding me evidence for months-emails, recordings, a paper trail of fraud stretching back years. I dialed the encrypted phone. A voice said, "I've waited five years." "Then wait three more days," I said. "I'm going to tear his head off."”