After my husband had an affair, his mistress’s husband came to me. He said, “I have a vast fortune. Just nod your head and tomorrow we’ll go to the city clerk’s office to get married.”. “I have a net worth in the nine figures.” I was huddled in a secluded corner of a garden café in Soho.

 

After my husband had an affair, his mistress’s husband came to me. He said, “I have a vast fortune. Just nod your head and tomorrow we’ll go to the city clerk’s office to get married.”. “I have a net worth in the nine figures.”
I was huddled in a secluded corner of a garden café in Soho. I chose the spot myself—hidden behind a thicket of ferns, where I could see the entire patio but it was nearly impossible for anyone to notice me. The ice in my Arnold Palmer had long since melted, the lemonade and iced tea separating into two watery layers on the table like my life had separated into “before” and “after” while I wasn’t looking.

About thirty feet away, at table six by the koi pond, sat my husband, Kevin.

He wasn’t alone.

The woman across from him wore a daring red silk slip dress that showcased long legs like she wanted the world to notice them. She leaned forward, laughing softly, the kind of laughter meant for one person only.

Her name was Melanie.

I knew exactly who she was. Anyone in logistics and finance in New York knew Melanie—the wife of Alexander Sterling, chairman of Sterling Logistics, a shark in the maritime shipping industry. She was the kind of woman whose name traveled ahead of her into rooms like perfume.

Kevin was smiling.

It was the same smile I once loved so desperately—the smile that convinced me, Ava Reed, rigid and disciplined senior audit manager, to step off my safe track. That smile had pulled me out of Big Four certainty and into the chaos of my husband’s dream.

Because I believed in him.

Because I believed in us.

I had liquidated my 401(k) and every stock option I saved over ten years to help him start his construction company. I had handed him the future I built with my own hands and said, Here. Build with it.

Now, that same hand—the one still wearing the platinum wedding band I picked out—was shamelessly caressing the back of Melanie’s hand as if my vows were invisible.

I didn’t cry.

My eyes were bone dry.

At thirty-two, after a decade wrestling numbers through dry balance sheets and brutal tax seasons, I had forged a cool head. But the weight in my chest felt like a thousand-pound stone pressing down, suffocating me from the inside out.

A month ago, Kevin came home looking haggard. He said the company was in deep legal trouble—facing potential liquidation of all assets. He told me there was a crisis, a storm, something that could destroy everything we’d built.

And then he convinced me to sign postnuptial papers—papers that effectively signed away my rights in an uncontested divorce.

“Ava,” he pleaded, voice so sincere I didn’t suspect a thing, “it’s just a formality. I need to put this new property development under my name only to secure the loan and save us. If we’re still legally tied and the company goes bankrupt, the bank will seize the house—everything. Just sign.”

He promised, “As soon as this blows over, I’ll reverse it all.”

I signed because I trusted my husband.

Because I wanted to protect the future home for the children we hadn’t yet had.

And now the truth was unfolding thirty feet away: there was no property development in jeopardy.

There was only a treacherous man plotting to build a new life on the ashes of his loyal wife’s sacrifice.

Kevin leaned forward and kissed Melanie’s forehead like he’d already decided I was a finished chapter.

He thought I was naïve.

He thought I was obedient.

He thought I only knew my way around a kitchen and a ledger.

He thought he’d won.

“Have you seen enough?”

A deep, gravelly voice from just above my head made me jump.

I looked up.

A tall man stood there in an expensive custom-tailored charcoal suit. His face was angular, his eyes deep-set, cold as a frozen lake in winter. His presence didn’t ask for space—it took it.

It was Alexander Sterling.

Chairman of Sterling Logistics.

The husband of the woman currently canoodling with my husband.

Without waiting for an invitation, Alex pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. His demeanor was commanding, radiating the authority of a man used to giving orders and being obeyed.

He placed a thick file on the table.

The sound of paper hitting dark wood was sharp and final, like a gavel.

“Your husband is spending my money,” Alex stated.

His tone was flat, as if he were discussing a monthly financial report, “and he’s already paved the way to kick you to the curb.”

I stared at the file, then at him.

“What do you want?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately. He simply pushed the file toward me.

“Page five,” he said. “Have a look.”

With trembling fingers, I opened it.

Page five was a notarized copy of the final judgment of dissolution of marriage dated one week ago.

One week.

The crimson seal of the New York County Supreme Court sat there like a sarcastic stamp on my life.

My throat tightened.

“How is this possible?” My voice cracked. “He said he hadn’t filed it yet. He said he was waiting until after the crisis.”

Alex cut in, voice brutal but clean.

“He filed it the day you signed.”

I stared at the page again like I could will it to rearrange into a different reality.

“And because you signed an agreement waiving all claims to marital assets to help him,” Alex continued, “you are, from a legal standpoint, left with nothing.”

Nothing.

The word slammed into my ribs.

“The house you live in, the car you drive, even the money from your joint savings account that you gave him to invest—it all legally belongs to him.”

I dropped the file.

Betrayal rose in my throat like bitter bile.

I hadn’t just lost a husband.

I had lost my self-respect.

My faith in basic decency.

I—Ava Reed, top-certified CPA courted by countless corporations—had been swindled in the most painful way by the man I shared my bed with.

It was the single worst calculation of my life.

And the cost was my youth.

My fortune.

My dignity.

Alex watched my expression, eyes narrowing like he was assessing my response the way he’d assess a market.

“Anguish doesn’t solve problems,” he said.

“You’re a finance professional. You understand cutting your losses better than anyone. That investment has been written off. It’s time to think about restructuring.”

I forced myself to breathe. Forced my hands to stop shaking.

I smoothed my hair, straightened the collar of my blouse like posture could remind my body who I was.

“You didn’t seek me out just to inform me I’m a failure,” I said, voice steadying, “did you, Mr. Sterling?”

A corner of his mouth twitched upward—approval, almost.

“Very sharp.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“Legally, you are now a single woman. I have also finalized my divorce from Melanie,” he said, “but she was more cunning than you. She still holds significant financial power in my company because asset division is still in litigation.”

His eyes didn’t flick toward the koi pond table, but I felt the direction of his hatred anyway.

“She has people in my accounting department siphoning funds from the corporation to support your ex-husband.”

My brain snapped into motion. Numbers. Flows. Motives. Access.

Alex continued, lowering his voice.

“I have a fortune worth hundreds of millions. But I need someone I can trust—someone with the professional expertise to audit my entire system and stop the flow of illicit money Melanie is funneling out.”

He paused just long enough to make sure I understood the shape of what he was offering.

“I need a legal wife to replace her,” he said, “to use that authority to clean house.”

“Why me?” I asked, but even as the words left my mouth, my mind was already calculating.

Alex didn’t blink.

“First, you have motive. You despise Kevin and Melanie.”

I didn’t deny it.

“Second, your résumé is impeccable. Former senior audit manager for a major retail conglomerate. CPA certified. Reputation as an iron fist in cost control.”

My spine straightened despite myself.

“Third,” he said, and his gaze sharpened, “neither of us has any faith left in love. We can collaborate based on mutual interest.”

He looked me straight in the eye and delivered his final offer like a contract clause.

“If you agree, be at the city clerk’s office tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. We’re getting married.”

I glanced toward table six.

Kevin was kissing Melanie’s forehead. Smug. Victorious.

He thought I was done.

He thought I’d go home and cry into a pillow he legally owned.

He thought I’d beg.

I turned back to Alex.

Three seconds.

That’s all the time I needed to decide on the biggest gamble of my life.

I had already lost everything.

I had nothing left to fear.

“Done,” I said, voice firm. “I agree.”

Then I added, because I was still Ava Reed even with my world burning.

“But I have one condition.”

Alex’s expression didn’t change.

“I want full unilateral control over Sterling Logistics’ finance department,” I said. “You are not to interfere with how I work.”

Alex stood, buttoning his suit jacket with calm finality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Sterling.”

He left me there with the file and a plan for revenge forming with chilling clarity……….To be continued in Comment

After my husband had an affair, his mistress’s husband came to me. He said, “I have a vast fortune. Just nod your head and tomorrow we’ll go to the city clerk’s office to get married.” After my husband cheated, his mistress’s husband came to me. He said, “I have a net worth in the nine figures. Just say the word and well go to the city clerk’s office tomorrow.

” I only needed a few seconds to agree. I was huddled in a secluded corner of a garden cafe in Soho. I chose the spot myself, hidden behind a thicket of ferns. I could see the entire patio, but it was nearly impossible for anyone to notice me. On my table, the ice in my Arnold Palmer had long since melted, the lemonade and iced tea separating into two distinct watery layers.

About 30 ft away at table six by the koi pond, sat my husband Kevin. He wasn’t alone. The woman across from him in a daring red silk slip dress that showcased a pair of long legs was Melanie. I knew who she was. Anyone in the logistics and finance world of New York knew Melanie, the wife of Alexander Sterling, chairman of Sterling Logistics, a true shark in the maritime shipping industry. Kevin was smiling.

It was the same smile I had once loved so desperately. the smile that had convinced me, a rigid and disciplined senior audit manager, to leave my career track at a big four firm. I’d liquidated my 401k and every stock option I’d saved over 10 years to help him start his construction company.

Kevins hand, the one still wearing the platinum wedding band I’d picked out, was now shamelessly caressing the back of Melany’s. I didn’t cry. My eyes were bone dry. At 32, after a decade wrestling with numbers with dry balance sheets and stressful tax seasons, I had forged a cool head. I only felt a crushing weight in my chest, like a,000 lb stone was suffocating me.

A month ago, Kevin had come home looking haggarded. He told me the company was in deep legal trouble, facing potential liquidation of all its assets. He convinced me to sign postnuptual papers, effectively signing away my rights in an uncontested divorce. Ava, it’s just a formality, he had pleaded, his voice so sincere, I hadn’t suspected a thing.

I need to put this new property development under my name only to secure the loan and save us. If we’re still legally tied and the company goes bankrupt, the bank will seize the house, everything. Just sign. As soon as this blows over, I’ll reverse it all. I signed because I trusted my husband, because I wanted to protect the future home for the children we hadn’t yet had.

And now the truth was unfolding before my eyes. There was no property development in jeopardy. There was only a treacherous man plotting to build a new life on the ashes of his loyal wife’s sacrifice. Have you seen enough? A deep grally voice from just above my head made me jump. I looked up. A tall man in an expensive customtailored charcoal suit was standing there. His face was angular, his eyes deep set, and as cold as a frozen lake in winter.

It was Alexander Sterling, chairman of Sterling Logistics, the husband of the woman currently canoodling with my husband. Without waiting for an invitation, Alex pulled out the chair opposite me. His demeanor was commanding, radiating the authority of a man used to giving orders. He placed a thick file on the table.

The sound of paper hitting the dark wood was sharp and final. “Your husband is spending my money,” Alex stated. His tone is flat, as if he were discussing a monthly financial report, and he’s already paved the way to kick you to the curb. I looked from the file to Alex. What do you want? He didn’t answer immediately.

He pushed the file toward me. Page five. Have a look. With trembling fingers, I opened it. Page five was a notorized copy of the final judgment of dissolution of marriage dated one week ago. The Crimson Seal of the New York County Supreme Court felt like a sarcastic stamp on my life. How is this possible? My voice cracked. He said he hadn’t filed it yet.

He said he was waiting until after the crisis. He filed it the day you signed. Alex cut in his voice cold and brutal, but delivering the truth I needed to hear. And because you signed an agreement waving all claims to marital assets to help him, you are from a legal standpoint left with nothing.

The house you live in, the car you drive, even the money from your joint savings account that you gave him to invest it, all legally belongs to him. I dropped the file. The feeling of betrayal, of being utterly played, rose in my throat like bitter bile. I hadn’t just lost a husband. I’d lost my self-respect, my faith in basic decency.

I, Ava Reed, a top-certified CPA courted by countless corporations, had been swindled in the most painful way by the man I shared my bed with. It was the single worst calculation of my life, and the cost was my entire youth and fortune. Alex watched my expression, his eyes narrowing in assessment.

Anguish doesn’t solve problems. You’re a finance professional. You understand the concept of cutting your losses better than anyone. That investment has been written off. It’s time to think about restructuring. I looked up at him, forcing myself to regain my composure. I smoothed my hair and straightened the color of my blouse.

You didn’t seek me out just to inform me that I’m a failure, did you, mister Sterling? A corner of his mouth twitched upward, seemingly pleased with my quick recovery. Very sharp. Legally, you are now a single woman. I have also finalized my divorce from Melanie, but she was more cunning than you.

She still holds significant financial power in my company because the asset division is still in litigation. She has people in my accounting department siphoning funds from the corporation to support your ex-husband. Alex paused, leaning forward and lowering his voice. I have a fortune worth hundreds of millions.

But I need someone I can trust, someone with the professional expertise to audit my entire system and stop the flow of illicit money Melanie is funneling out. I need a legal wife to replace her to use that authority to clean house. Why me? I asked, my mind already racing, crunching the numbers of this new insane equation. First, you have motive. You despise Kevin and Melanie. Second, your resume is impeccable.

Former senior audit manager for a major retail conglomerate, CPA certified, with a reputation for being an iron fist when it comes to cost control. Third, and most importantly, neither of us has any faith left in love. We can collaborate based on mutual interest. He looked me straight in the eye, delivering his final offer.

If you agree, be at the city clerk’s office tomorrow at 8:00 a.m., we’re getting married. I glanced over at the other table. Kevin was kissing Melany’s forehead, the smug look of a victor on his face. He thought I was a naive, obedient woman who only knew her way around a kitchen and a ledger. He thought he had won. I turned back to Alex. 3 seconds.

That’s all the time I needed to decide on the biggest gamble of my life. I had already lost everything. I had nothing left to fear. Done, I replied, my voice firm. I agree, but I have one condition. I want full unilateral control over Sterling Logistics Finance Department. You are not to interfere with how I work.

Alex stood, buttoning his suit jacket. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Sterling. He left, leaving me with the file and a plan for revenge, beginning to form with chilling clarity in my mind. The next morning, I woke earlier than usual. I chose a simple but elegant ivorycoled sheath dress that highlighted a slender figure.

I usually hid under baggy office wear. I applied my makeup carefully, concealing the dark circles from a sleepless night spent reviewing corporate law. Staring at the woman in the mirror, I knew it wasn’t the Ava of yesterday. That Ava had died with that divorce decree. At 7:05 a.m. sharp, I was standing in front of the Manhattan municipal building. A gleaming black Mercedes Maybach pulled up to the curb. The door opened and Alex stepped out.

Today, he wore a crisp white shirt. No tie, looking younger and less severe than the day before. You’re punctual, Alex said in lie of a greeting. Professional habit, I replied succinctly. We walked inside. The marriage registration process was surprisingly swift thanks to Alex’s preparations.

When the pen hit the paper, when I signed my name next to Alexander Sterling on the marriage certificate, I felt a jolt run down my spine. Not the thrill of love, but the excitement of a soldier being handed a heavy weapon before heading into battle. The city clerk handed us our two official copies. Alex took them and gave one to me.

“Welcome to Sterling Logistics,” he said, using my first name for the first time. “Thank you.” I smiled, a professional, perfect smile. Stepping out of the building, the early morning sun made the certificate in my hand gleam. I took out my phone, placed the marriage certificate on the hood of Alex’s Maybach, and took a crystal clear photo.

In the shot, my name and Alex’s were side by side. The official seal, a brilliant red against the gleaming black paint, and the iconic stylized says hood ornament. I opened my contacts, found my love, a name I hadn’t had the heart to change yet, and sent the photo with a short, concise message. Thanks for quietly setting me free.

It allowed me to get the paperwork done just in time to become the legal wife of the chairman of Sterling Logistics this morning. Good luck to you and your mistress. The message status changed to delivered. Alex stood beside me, observing my actions without a word, just a slight smirk. You’re more aggressive than I thought. In business, as in war, the element of surprise accounts for 50% of the victory, I said, putting my phone away. Now, take me to the office. I need to start my work immediately.

On the way to the Sterling Logistics headquarters, Alex handed me an employee ID card and an appointment letter. Chief financial officer, CFO, I raised an eyebrow. You trust me with this position right away? I don’t trust you, Alex said bluntly. I trust your hatred and your competence. This position was previously controlled by Melanie through a puppet, the former head of accounting. I’ve fired him.

I’m putting you in charge. You have the power of life and death in your hands. Use it well. I held the letter, feeling its weight. This wasn’t just a job. It was a sword and a shield. I closed my eyes, visualizing the organizational chart of Sterling Logistics that I had studied all night. Melanie, though divorced, was still a major shareholder and knew many of the company’s secrets.

Her embezzlement couldn’t have been a solo act. She had to have a network of accompllices. My mission was to sever every one of those ties, isolate Melanie, and most importantly, find proof that she and Kevin had colluded to launder money. I would make Kevin regret the day he underestimated a woman who kept the books.

The car stopped in front of a towering 30story glass skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. Alex got out and walked around to open my door. This gallant gesture wasn’t for me, but for the hundreds of employees watching from the lobby. “Ready?” Alex asked quietly. “Always,” I replied, holding my head high as I walked beside him. From that moment on, the war had officially begun.

The phone in my purse began buzzing violently the moment I stepped into the private elevator reserved for the chairman. A glance at the screen confirmed it. “Kevin,” I let it ring until it went to voicemail. It immediately started ringing again and again.

My silence was the most exquisite form of psychological torture I could inflict on him right now. Meanwhile, in a luxury condo in Tribeca, Kevin was likely losing his mind. I could picture it perfectly. He’d throw his phone onto the sofa, his face beat red, pacing frantically. Melanie would be there frowning, asking what was wrong. And when he showed her the picture I sent, the mask of makeup on her face would crack.

When the elevator reached the 30th floor, I calmly answered the phone. “Hello?” My voice was as placid as if I were talking to a delivery guy. “Ava, what the hell is this? What is that picture? It’s photoshopped, right?” Kevin’s voice shrieked through the phone, cracking with panic. He couldn’t believe it. Or rather, he didn’t dare to. You think I have the time to learn Photoshop? I scoffed.

Black ink on white paper. a state seal. You’re a business owner, Kevin. Can’t you tell a real document from a fake one? When did you meet him? Were you cheating on me? Kevin started with the accusations. The classic anthem of a thief crying foul. Don’t measure others by your own standards. I cut him off, my voice turning to steel. You secretly finalized our divorce behind my back.

The court has issued the decree. Legally, I was a single woman. Who I marry is my business. Besides, aren’t you shacked up with my new husband’s ex-wife? In business terms, we could call this a fair trade. Kevin was speechless. In the background, I heard Melanie snatch the phone. You little bitch. You think you can just waltz into Sterling Logistics? As long as I’m here, you won’t get anywhere. Hello, Melanie, I replied.

My voice sweet but laced with poison. You’re mistaken. I didn’t waltz in to climb the ladder. I walked in as the chairman’s legal wife, as the lady of the house. You, on the other hand, are just a shareholder now, an outsider. Oh, and I forgot to mention, I just accepted the position of chief financial officer.

The first thing on my agenda this morning is to conduct a full audit of all outstanding accounts between Sterling Logistics and Kuild Construction, my dear ex-husband’s company. You wouldn’t dare, Melanie screamed. Why not? I continued. I hear Kildo Sterling a rather large sum for advanced material costs on projects where no work has even begun.

As the new CFO, I find that debt to be a high-risisk liability. I think I’ll have to recall the funds immediately. Eva, don’t do this. Kevin grabbed the phone back. His tone shifting from rage to desperation. We can talk about this. What do you want? I’ll give you a cut of the money from the land sale. Let’s meet the money from the land sale. I chuckled darkly. Keep it.

You’re going to need a lot of it for the legal fees you’ll be facing very soon. I hung up and turned off my phone. The elevator doors opened. Before me was the grand lobby of Sterling Logistics. Employees bustled about, but everyone paused to nod respectfully as Alex passed. They looked at me with curious, speculative eyes. Alex turned to me. A hint of admiration in his gaze.

You’ve scared them half to death. But threats are one thing. Execution is another. Just watch me, I said, clutching my handbag as I stroed toward the finance department. I wasn’t making threats. I was declaring war. The finance and accounting department was on the 28th floor.

A thick glass door separated the world of numbers from the rest of the company. I pushed it open and walked in. Alex followed right behind me, a solid, powerful presence at my back. The room was buzzing with chatter, but it fell silent as we entered. It was clear the news of the chairman’s whirlwind marriage had already spread. “Everyone settled down,” Alex said.

His voice wasn’t loud, but it had an authority that commanded instant silence. “All eyes were on us.” He gestured toward me. This is Ava Sterling, my wife and the new chief financial officer of this corporation. From this moment on, all decisions regarding expenditures and budget approvals must go through her. The official appointment will be sent via companywide email in 5 minutes. A low murmur rippled through the room.

I swept my gaze across the faces. In a corner, a middle-aged woman with thick gold rimmed glasses was staring at me. Her expression wasn’t one of surprise, but of open hostility. That was Brenda, the current head of accounting and Melanie’s right-hand woman. I had studied the personnel files.

Brenda was the one who had approved a slew of fraudulent expense reports for client entertainment, allowing Melanie to bleed the company dry. I walked directly to Brenda’s desk. Hello, Brenda. I need you to hand over all ledgers, digital signature tokens, and passwords for the ERP system. Immediately, Brenda stood up, crossing her arms in defiance. her attitude that of an untouchable veteran. Mrs.

Sterling, a proper handover takes time. There are years of records here. I can’t just give them to you. Furthermore, I report to the board of directors, which includes Miss Melanie. Your appointment is very sudden. I need to confirm with her first. She was stalling, trying to buy time to destroy evidence or alter the records. Brenda.

I smiled, placing the appointment letter, wet, signed by Alex, and stamped with a corporate seal on her desk. According to company bylaws, the chairman has the authority to make executive appointments in exigent circumstances. Miss Melanie is currently just a shareholder with no operational role. The chairman’s directive is the highest authority.

I glanced at Alex, then back at Brenda, my voice like ice. If you do not complete the handover in the next 15 minutes, I will draft your termination letter for insubordination and obstruction of business operations.

Concurrently, I will have your computer impounded and invite the NYPD’s financial crimes unit to investigate suspected embezzlement. Your choice, a quiet handover or leaving in handcuffs. Brenda’s face went pale. She hadn’t expected me to be so firm, so legally prepared. She looked to Alex for help, but he just stood there, arms crossed with an expression that said, “I fully support my wife.

” Trembling, Brenda opened her desk drawer and took out a set of keys and a security token. “I’ll start the handover.” “Good,” I said, turning to the stunned employees. “From today, our procedures are changing. Any expenditure over $5,000 must be personally approved by me.

Anyone caught falsifying documents will write their own resignation letter before I find them. I started my career in forensic accounting. Don’t try to play games with me. I instructed the IT department to immediately revoke Brenda’s system access and change all administrative passwords. After Brenda had silently packed her personal belongings into a cardboard box and left, I sat down in the leather chair she had just vacated. I opened the computer and logged into the system. The numbers began to fill the screen.

It was a chaotic mess, but it was also a treasure trove of evidence. The phone on the desk rang. It was an internal call from Melanie. You’ve got a lot of nerve, Ava. Firing my people. This is just the warm-up, I replied, my fingers flying across the keyboard. You should be more concerned about your own money.

I’m seeing some questionable transfers to that media company your brother runs. The invoices for services rendered look highly irregular. The line went silent, then a sharp click as she hung up. I exhaled slowly, leaning back in my chair. The real fight was just beginning. I didn’t just need to clean up this mess. I needed to set a trap that Kevin and Melanie would walk into themselves.

Alex came over and placed a hot cup of coffee on my desk. You handled that well. I didn’t choose the wrong person. Don’t praise me too soon, I said, taking a sip. The bitter coffee was a welcome shock to my system. Brace yourself. A major storm is coming. The lights in the office were off, save for the cool blue glow of my

computer screen. The clock on the wall read 10 p.m. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but I was still buried in the digital ledgers Brenda had left behind. To me, numbers could talk, and these were screaming about fraud. I didn’t need to be a movie hacker. I used the most fundamental auditing techniques, cross- referencing and verification. I opened the Q3 trial balance. One line item jumped out immediately. Third party service costs had tripled compared to the same period last year.

I drilled down into the details of the marketing and administrative expense accounts. A series of large payments for marketing services, event organization, and strategic consulting, all led to a single vendor, Celestial Media LLC. I copied Celestial Media’s EIN and plugged it into the state’s business registry database. The result appeared instantly.

The registered agent was Michael Vance. I smirked. Michael Vance was Melanie’s younger brother. The scheme was amateur-ish. Funnel money from your husband’s company to your brothers, then into your own pocket. I pulled up all the digital invoices from Celestial Media. The total came to over $15 million in just 6 months. The descriptions were vague.

Logistics solutions, consulting, client conference fees. But when I cross- referenced the dates of these supposed conferences with the company’s actual operational calendar, there were no such events. No guest lists, no photos, no signed off contracts. This was a clear-cut case of using fake invoices to embezzle funds and evade corporate income tax. I printed all the suspicious bank statements and invoices, compiling them in a red file.

This was just the tip of the iceberg. I needed to dig into the accounts payable. Scrolling down to the vendor liabilities, I found Kevin’s company Ku Construction. The outstanding balance was wo action asly rating filad denimant 84 aspirant help and owning and sheet axe asclls all of his day and said it indister access rail as well 18.

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Henderson. His voice was sleepy. Mr. Henderson, this is Ava Sterling, the new CFO. Sorry to call so late. I have a question about the port upgrade project with Ku Construction. What’s the current status? There was a pause on the other end. Then a hesitant stammer. Ma’am, they haven’t even brought any equipment on site.

I’ve called them multiple times, but their project manager keeps saying they’re waiting on materials from overseas. Miss Melanie also told me to just let them take their time. I see. Thank you. First thing tomorrow morning, please send me a formal status report counter signed by the independent supervisor. I hung up. It was all clear now.

Kevin was using the advance from Sterling as his own personal line of credit or worse to buy that plot of land he’d used to trick me into the divorce. The office door swung open. Alex walked in holding two takeout containers. I thought you were planning to sleep here. Eat something before you continue. I looked at him, then at the mountain of files on my desk. I found the fox’s tail.

This quickly, Alex put the food down and pulled a chair up next to me. The subtle scent of his expensive cologne was clean and masculine, a world away from the cheap cigarette smoke that had started clinging to Kevin recently. “They were greedy, not careful,” I said, pointing at my screen.

Or perhaps they were overconfident, thinking no one would ever dare audit the boss’s wife’s books. Look at this. $15 million transferred to Melany’s brother. $5 million advanced to Kevin for a ghost project. That’s $20 million in cash drained from this company in just two quarters. Alex stared at the numbers, his face hardening. I knew she was skimming, but I never imagined it was this much. No wonder our cash flow from operations has been so tight lately.

For a logistics giant, cash flow is the lifeblood. Losing $20 million in cash was like severing an artery. Don’t worry, I said, opening a container. The aroma of grilled steak filled the air, making my stomach rumble. I’ll get it all back. Principle and interest. Eat first, Alex said, handing me a fork. You need strength for the battle ahead.

We have a very interesting board of directors meeting tomorrow. I took the fork. For the first time in months, I could actually taste my food. Not because the steak was particularly good, but because I knew I was no longer fighting this war alone. Alex drove me back to his private penthouse on the Upper West Side.

After midnight, the duplex was a stark minimalist masterpiece of glass and steel with a breathtaking view of the Hudson River. It was vast but cold, much like its owner. Luxurious, powerful, but solitary. You can take this room, Alex said, opening the door to a large guest suite with the same river view. I had it prepared for you. Anything you need, just let the housekeeper know.

I stepped inside. Everything was brand new, from the linens to the curtains. There was no trace of another woman, proving Alex had lived alone for a long time, or that Melanie had never set foot in this room. Thank you. Alex leaned against the door frame, watching me for a moment before speaking. Ava, this is a marriage of convenience.

I will respect your personal space, but in front of the staff and outsiders, we need to play our parts convincingly. I understand, I said. I’m a professional. The next morning, I went downstairs for breakfast. The dining table was long enough for 20, but only two place settings were laid out at one end.

Alex was already there sipping black coffee and reading financial reports on his iPad. Good morning, I said, taking my seat. Morning. Sleep well?” he asked, his eyes not leaving the screen. “Very. The bed is much more comfortable than the sofa I’ve been relegated to for the past month at Kevin’s place.” The housekeeper brought out two plates of eggs, benedict, steaming hot.

Looking at the perfectly poached eggs and Holland’s sauce, I felt a strange pang. It had been so long since anyone had made me breakfast. At home with Kevin, I was always the first one up, making coffee, ironing his shirts, and then rushing to get myself ready for work.

What’s wrong? Not to your liking? Alex looked up, noticing my hesitation. No. I shook my head, picking up my fork. It’s just unfamiliar. We ate in silence for a moment. Then Alex spoke unexpectedly. How do you plan to handle the cable debt today? I finished my bite, dabbed my mouth with a napkin, and answered precisely. I’m not going to demand payment through the usual channels.

If I send a demand letter, he’ll just make excuses or declare insolvency. I’m going to use a different strategy, which is Alex looked intrigued. I’m going to send a formal notice to the bank that issued his performance bond. The contract included clauses for both a performance bond and an advanced payment bond. If KB buildild fails to perform, the bank is obligated to repay Sterling logistics. Then the bank can be the one to foreclose on Kevin.

Alex let out a short, sharp laugh. Vicious. If the bank gets involved, he’ll have to sell everything to pay them back. If not, his credit will be ruined permanently. He’ll never get another business loan in his life. That’s not all, I continued, my eyes cold.

I’m going to engage our independent auditors and have them re-examine the costs of all past projects KB Build has done for us. I suspect he’s been inflating invoices for years. If we find concrete evidence, this moves from a civil matter to a criminal one. Alex looked at me, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine respect. You really were born to be my wife. Were cut from the same cloth. Breakfast ended in a strange but harmonious atmosphere.

two wounded people finding a strange camaraderie in calculation and ambition. I realized that living with a smart, straightforward man like Alex was far more pleasant than serving a hypocrite like Kevin. My morning at the office began with a purge. I called an emergency meeting with the entire accounting department and the project management team.

I dropped the file I’d compiled last night onto the conference table. The sharp thud made everyone jump. In this file is a list of all suspected fraudulent invoices from Celestial Media and the status of the KU build contract. Who was directly responsible for processing these accounts? A young analyst timidly raised his hand. Brenda handled those directly.

Ma’am, we just did the data entry based on the paperwork she gave us. Data entry without checking the validity and reasonleness of the documents is negligence. I said sharply. From today, I am initiating a full process review. Anyone who comes forward now with information about past irregularities will be granted amnesty and will keep their job. Anyone caught covering things up will be terminated and recommended for prosecution.

My declaration was like a bucket of ice water on anyone considering staying silent. Immediately after the meeting, three employees knocked on my office door asking for a private word. From their testimony, I pieced together the full picture of Melanie and Kevin’s moneyaundering scheme. Kevin wasn’t just embezzling from his own construction company.

He was using Kbuild as a vehicle to process fake invoices for Sterling Logistics. When Sterling needed to reduce its taxable income, Melanie would direct Kevin to issue fraudulent invoices for labor and materials. Money flowed from Sterling to Kuild. Kevin would then withdraw the cash, keep a percentage, and give the rest back to Melanie.

It was a perfect closed loop, but they made one fatal mistake. The flow of money didn’t match the actual flow of goods and services. I sat at my computer mapping out the cash flow diagram. Arrows went from Sterling to Kild, from Kild to Kevin’s personal account, and from Kevin’s account to an offshore account in the name of Carol Miller at a foreign bank. I zoomed in on the name Carol Miller, not a stranger.

It was Kevin’s own mother. Her name was Carol. I shivered. Kevin was using his own mother’s name on a foreign account to hide dirty money. He hadn’t just deceived me. He had dragged his sweet elderly mother from Ohio into a federal crime without her knowledge. His callousness had reached a new low. The door burst open. This time it wasn’t Alex, but Melanie.

She stormed in without knocking, flanked by two large bodyguards. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Why has the bank frozen Kild’s accounts?” Melanie roared, slamming her hands on my desk. I calmly took off my reading glasses and looked at her. Hello, Melanie.

Entering my office without knocking is a violation of company policy. As for a bank freezing a vendor’s account, that’s the bank’s business. Why are you asking me? Unless you have a personal stake in my ex-husband’s company, don’t play dumb with me. Melanie snarled, pointing a finger at my face.

You sent the notice demanding the return of the advanced payment, didn’t you? You’re trying to ruin Kevin. I am simply fulfilling my duty as CFO. Shareholder money cannot be wasted. $5 million is not a small sum. If KB build can demonstrate its ability to complete the project, I’m sure the bank will unfreeze the account. You seem overly concerned. Melanie gritted her teeth. You’re good. I’m warning you, Ava.

If you touch my interests, I will make your life a living hell. You think Alex loves you? He’s just using you. At least he’s using me openly and legally, I said, standing up to face her. I was just as tall as she was. You and Kevin, on the other hand, sneak around behind people’s backs. That’s what’s truly pathetic.

Go tell Kevin to get the money ready. His deadline is in 3 days. Melanie scoffed and spun on her heel, storming out. I knew she was scared. I was cutting off the tentacles of her operation one by one. 3 days later, just as I predicted, Kevin couldn’t come up with the money to repay the bank. He was cornered, and a cornered animal will bite indiscriminately.

On Monday morning, an anonymous email was sent to every single employee at Sterling Logistics. The subject line was sensational. The truth about the new CFO, gold digger, or highclass escort. The email contained a link to a cleverly edited video.

It showed footage of me entering a hotel from an old audit engagement where I was meeting a client spliced with suggestive audio. Below was a fabricated article claiming I’d been having an affair with Alex for years that I’d plotted to steal Kevin’s assets and then dumped him for a billionaire. The entire company was buzzing. The looks I received in the hallway shifted from awe to contempt and morbid curiosity.

I sat in my office, my hand gripping the mouse so tightly my knuckles were white. Kevin was even more pathetic than I’d thought. He wanted to use public opinion to destroy my reputation and force me to resign. My phone rang. It was Alex. Have you seen the email? His voice was unnervingly calm. I have. He’s playing dirty.

Don’t worry. Stay in your office. Don’t go out. I’ll handle this. 5 minutes later, the building’s PA system crackled to life. Alex’s voice, sharp and commanding, echoed through every floor, requesting all employees to gather in the main lobby immediately. I went down as well. Alex stood on a raised platform, his face a mask of cold fury.

Beside him were the head of it and the company’s general counsel. I have just been made aware of an email slandering my wife, Ava Sterling, Alex announced, his voice reverberating through the vast space. I am here to state unequivocally that this is a malicious and baseless lie. Our IT department has already traced the IP address of the sender.

It originated from a public internet cafe near the private residence of Mr. Kevin Miller, director of KB Build Construction. Alex gave a signal. The large screen behind him lit up with security footage from the internet cafe. There, clear as day was Kevin wearing a baseball cap and a face mask hunched over a computer at the exact time the email was sent. A gasp went through the crowd. Our legal team is currently filing a lawsuit against Mr.

Miller for liel and defamation under New York state law, Alex continued. Furthermore, I want to make one thing clear. Any Sterling Logistics employee found discussing or sharing this false information will be terminated immediately. We are a Fortune 500 company, not a high school cafeteria for cheap gossip. The crowd was dead silent.

Alex had extinguished the fire of rumor the moment it started using irrefutable proof. He then turned to me, his gaze softening slightly. There’s one more gift I have for him. Alex handed me a blue folder. What’s this? I asked Kevin’s loan portfolio from a private lender.

He took out a highinterest $2 million loan using his equipment, his workshop, and even his parents house in Ohio as collateral. The loan is 10 days past due and has been classified as a default. The lender was preparing to seize the assets. I opened the folder. It was Kevin’s signature. He had taken out this loan behind my back to fund his gambling habits and support Melanie.

I had a chat with the lender, Alex said, a wolfish grin playing on his lips. They agreed to sell the distress debt to a private equity firm that I happen to have a controlling interest in. I understood immediately. So now you’re Kevin’s creditor. No, Alex said, looking me straight in the eye. We are as husband and wife. We are now his single largest creditor.

The power of life and death is now in your hands, Ava. Whether he sinks or swims is up to you. I held the debt portfolio in my hands. It felt like a death sentence for Kevin, but I didn’t want him gone just yet. I wanted him to taste the same powerlessness, the same suffocating fear that I had endured.

I arranged a meeting with Kevin, not at a cafe, but at the desolate office of Kuild Construction. When I arrived, the place was empty. Most of the staff had quit over unpaid wages. Kevin sat with his head in his hands at his desk, surrounded by empty liquor bottles and overflowing ashtrays. He looked 10 years older than he did a week ago.

Seeing me, he looked up, his eyes bloodshot with fury. What are you doing here? Come to laugh at me? I’ve come to collect a debt, I said coldly, placing the portfolio on his desk. He glanced at it and sneered. I owe the lender, not you. Don’t try to scare me. The worst they can do is take the workshop. I don’t give a damn.

Look more closely, I said, pointing to the debt assignment agreement. The lender sold your debt to Sterling Capital Investments, and the legal representative of Sterling Capital is coincidentally me, Ava Sterling. The color drained from Kevin’s face. He snatched the paper, his hands shaking violently. No, this can’t be. How could you afford to buy my debt? It was him, wasn’t it? It was Sterling.

Who’s behind it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I am now your creditor. And according to the terms of your loan, I have the right to demand the immediate surrender of all collateral assets to settle the debt. I looked around the dilapidated office. This workshop and a few rusty excavators won’t be enough.

Ah, but there’s still your parents’ house in Ohio, isn’t there? The deed of trust clearly lists the property and land belonging to Mr. Walter and Mrs. Carol Miller. At the mention of his parents, true panic set in. He lunged toward me, trying to grab my arm, but I stepped back. Two of Alex’s security guards, who had been waiting outside, immediately stepped in to block him. Ava, I’m begging you.

Kevin crumpled to the floor, sobbing pathetically. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Take the company. Take everything, but please don’t touch my parents’ house. They’re old. They’re fragile. If they find out the bank is foreclosing, it will kill them. Seeing the man who was once my husband graveling on the floor, I felt no satisfaction, only disgust.

He was using his parents as a shield for his own failures after being the one who gambled away their home. “When you tricked me into signing those divorce papers, did you think about me being thrown out on the street?” I asked, my voice sharp as a scalpel. “When you were cheating with Melanie, did you think about how I would feel?” I was wrong.

Melanie manipulated me. She said, “If I helped her launder this one batch of money, we’d have millions to split. I was blinded by greed. Ava, for the sake of our 10 years together, please give me a chance to live. Our 10 years together ended the moment you filed those papers.” I turned away. I’m giving you two options.

One, you sign over all shares of Kuild Construction, and that new plot of land to me is payment against the debt. Two. Tomorrow my lawyers will begin foreclosure proceedings on your parents’ home. Kevin looked up, his face ashen. That land is the last thing I have. You have no bargaining power. You have 5 minutes to decide. I looked at my watch.

Each tick echoed in the heavy silence like a hammer striking Kevin’s nerves. I’ll sign, he whispered, his head hung in defeat. I’ll sign, I signaled to my lawyer, who had been waiting with the prepared documents. Kevin took the pen, his hand shaking, and signed each page. Each signature seemed to drain the life out of him.

Holding the signed documents, I felt a sense of release. I had taken back what was mine, and more importantly, I had stripped him of his ability to commit further crimes. “You’re broke now, Kevin,” I said. My final words to him before walking out the door. Try to live an honest life. Don’t make your parents suffer anymore. Outside, Alex was waiting in the car. He gave me a slight smile. Finished.

It’s finished, he signed. Are you happy? I leaned my head back against the leather seat, watching the bustling city streets. Not happy, but it feels just. My personal revenge was halfway complete, but the war against Melanie and the moneyaundering empire behind her was just getting started. Kevin was just a pawn. Melanie was the queen, and I knew she wouldn’t stay quiet now that her pawn had been taken off the board.

I didn’t waste time celebrating my victory over Kevin. He was merely a pawn on the grand chessboard controlled by Melanie. The real enemy was still lurking in the shadows. And to draw her out, I needed another pawn, one who was once Melany’s closest confidant, Brenda.

After being fired from Sterling Logistics, Brenda found herself unemployable. With a termination for professional misconduct on her record, no reputable company would touch her. I had a private investigator follow her and learned she was living in a run-down rented house on the outskirts of the city, hounded daily by lone sharks for her gambling debts. It was time for my next move.

On Wednesday afternoon, I drove to a quiet cafe in Queens where I had arranged to meet Brenda. When I entered, she was hunched in a corner, her hands trembling around a glass of water. She looked 20 years older than when she had been the imperious head of accounting. Seeing me, her eyes filled with terror.

She started to get up and run. “Sit down,” I said, my voice calm, but firm enough to root her to the spot. “If you walk out that door, I will forward this file to the district attorney’s office immediately.” I placed a brown envelope on the table. Brenda stared at it, swallowing hard. “What? What do you want?” “I’m fired. I have nothing left for you. Take.

” “You may be fired, but your crimes remain,” I said, opening the envelope and pulling out several documents. “This is evidence that you colluded with an auto repair shop to inflate maintenance costs for the company’s truck fleet for the past 3 years. The total amount you personally pocketed exceeds $200,000.

That’s grand lararseny, Brenda. The sentencing guideline is 5 to 15 years in prison. The blood drained from her face. She slid from her chair and knelt right there by the table. Mrs. Sterling, please have mercy. I have an elderly mother and a young son. I can’t go to prison. I gambled all that money away.

I can’t pay it back. I looked at the weeping woman before me without a shred of pity, but my mind told me this was a golden opportunity. Get up. I didn’t come here to listen to your soba story. I can make this go away and I can even help you pay off your lone sharks.

On one condition, Brenda looked up, a flicker of hope in her eyes. What condition? I’ll do anything you say as long as I don’t go to jail. I want you to be my spy, I said, lowering my voice and looking her straight in the eye. I know you’re still in contact with Melanie.

She needs a trusted person to handle her back channel transactions now that she can’t use anyone at Sterling. I want you to go back to her, pretend to be loyal, and report her every move to me.” Brenda hesitated. She knew how ruthless Melanie could be. But the fear of prison was greater. “If Melanie finds out, she’ll kill me. If you don’t do this, the police will be knocking on your door tomorrow,” I said coldly.

“Besides, Melanie abandoned you the second you were fired. Didn’t she? Did she offer you a single dollar to help with your debts? Or did she treat you like a used up tool? My words hit a nerve. Brenda clenched her fists, her expression shifting from fear to resentment. You’re right, that ungrateful bitch. I helped her move millions, and when I got in trouble, she wouldn’t even answer my calls.

Fine, I’ll do it. What do you need to know? I need to know where Melanie is moving her assets. I have intelligence that she’s liquidating everything and gathering cash very quickly. Brenda looked around fertively, then leaned in close to whisper. She’s planning something big.

She sold off properties in Miami and the Hamptons, raising about 30 million in cash. She’s planning to wire the money to a Shell Corporation in the Cayman Islands this Friday afternoon under the guise of an investment consulting contract. Once the money is through, she’s flying there to live permanently, leaving Sterling to deal with the fallout in the US.

$30 million, a staggering sum. If Melanie pulled this off, Sterling logistics would suffer a serious blow. Its cash flow would be crippled, and more importantly, she would get away tangent-free. Do you know which bank she’s using for the transaction? Global Trust Bank, the Midtown branch. She’s very close with the branch manager there so they’ll expedite the international wire for her. I smiled.

This information was priceless. Excellent. Continue to monitor her and let me know the exact time she initiates the transfer. After this is over, I will burn your file and give you a bonus to start a new life. Brenda nodded eagerly. I stood up, left cash for the drinks, and walked out.

The afternoon sun cast my long shadow on the pavement. A perfect net was now forming in my mind. This Friday was going to be a very memorable day for Melanie. Friday afternoon, the tension in my office was thick enough to cut with a knife. Outside, a torrential downpour lashed against the windows as if trying to breach the quiet inside.

I sat before my monitor, which displayed the cash management dashboard of Sterling’s corporate banking system. Alex sat in the chair opposite me, idly spinning a pen, his eyes glued to his phone. We were waiting for a text from Brenda. 2.30 p.m. Nothing yet. For an international wire to clear the same day, Melanie had to execute it before the cutoff time.

The Swift system typically closes for same day processing around 3.30 or 4 p.m. After that, the transaction would be held until the next business day. For a fugitive like Melanie, a single day was an eternity of risk. 2.45 4:5 p.m. My phone vibrated. A text from Brenda. She just arrived at the bank. Going into the very important person room to meet the branch manager.

The fish is in the net. I told Alex. She’s at the bank. Alex nodded, his face grim. Are you sure you can stop it? Once that money leaves the US, it’s gone for good. Don’t worry. The net is already in place. I opened another chat window and sent a message to Mark, the head of corporate banking at Global Trust and an old classmate from business school.

I had already given him a heads up about a potentially fraudulent transaction involving Melan’s account. As CFO of Sterling Logistics, I had the right to request a review of unusual transactions from accounts linked to a major shareholder involved in a legal dispute. 3:10 p.m.

A system notification popped up. A wire transfer of $30 million had just been initiated from Melany’s personal account. Subject payment for investment consulting contract number 01 to 2023. Beneficiary Sunny Horizon Investments Corp. Cayman Islands. This is it. I pointed at the screen. The transaction status was pending approval. I immediately called Mark.

Mark, it’s Ava. The 30 million wire just hit the system. That’s the embezzled money I told you about. You need to block it now. I could hear frantic typing on the other end. I see it, Ava. That’s a huge amount. But the branch is pushing hard for immediate approval.

The manager is citing her VIP status and claims all the paperwork is in order. If I block it without cause, I’ll face a major complaint. The paperwork is fake. Sunny Horizon is a shell company, I said. My voice sharp and urgent. I am faxing you an emergency injunction from the city court to freeze all of Melany’s assets pending the resolution of our post divorce asset dispute. Just use the excuse of a compliance red flag to put a hold on the transaction.

All you need to do is delay it past 3.30 p.m. and she’s finished. All right, I trust you. I’m routing it to the compliance department for an indepth review. That will take at least 2 hours. Pass the cutoff. Not even God can get that wire through today. I hung up, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

On my screen, the transaction status changed from pending approval to under review. In the very important person room at the bank, I could imagine the chaos. Melanie must be on pins and needles. It was 3:20 p.m. Only 10 minutes left. Brenda texted again. She’s screaming at the bank staff, demanding to speak to the CEO.

Her face is bright red. I texted back. Let her scream. The CEO is in a meeting with me right now. There was no meeting, of course, but I knew bank protocol. Once a transaction is flagged as high risk, no one dares approve it, especially with anti-moneyaundering regulations being so strict. 3.30 p.m. The Swift system closed for the day.

Melanie’s wire transfer was officially rejected with the reason cited as transaction requires additional documentation. Verifying legal source of funds. The money was still in her account, but it was now frozen. She couldn’t transfer it. She couldn’t withdraw it. It was trapped. Alex looked at me with pure admiration.

He stood up, poured two glasses of wine, and handed one to me. Congratulations. A perfect knockout. You not only saved the money, but you’ve cut off her escape route. I swirled the glass, the red liquid shimmering like the blood of an enemy. It’s not over yet. When an animal is cornered, it will turn on its own kind.

Melanie just lost $30 million. The first person she’ll blame is Kevin. Let’s sit back and watch the next act. Just as I predicted, the failure at the bank sent Melanie into a spiral of fury. She couldn’t believe her perfect escape plan had been thwarted at the last second by a technical issue.

As she stormed out of the bank, she got a call from Kevin. My ex-husband was in a more desperate state than ever. After signing away his assets to me, he was beingounded by the lone sharks he’d borrowed from to fund his gambling. They had surrounded his parents’ house in Ohio, and he was hiding out in a cheap motel, calling Melanie as his was frantic.

They’re threatening to kill my whole family if I don’t pay them back 500,000 by tonight. Please just lend me something. I’ll be your slave for life. I’ll pay you back. Melanie, already seething over her frozen $30 million exploded. Shut up, you useless idiot. She screamed into the phone.

All traces of her sophisticated veneer gone. I’m in deep trouble myself. Your pathetic ex-wife managed to get my accounts frozen. You’re a worthless parasite. If you hadn’t been so stupid as to get divorced so quickly, she wouldn’t have had the leverage to do this. What are you talking about? Kevin was stunned. What does Ava have to do with this? Ask her yourself.

She’s the one who blocked my money transfer. You and her are two of a kind. Don’t you ever call me again. Melanie hung up and blocked his number. She got in her car and ordered the driver to her private mansion where she kept her remaining valuables, jewelry, diamonds.

She had to find another way out, maybe by land across the Canadian border. On the other end of the line, Kevin dropped the phone. His last hope was gone. He sank to the floor of the grimy motel room, surrounded by empty instant noodle cups. He had lost everything. His wife, his house, his career, and now his mistress. the woman he thought would make him a king.

From the hallway, he heard heavy footsteps and angry shouts. “Kevin, where are you? Come out. You can’t hide from us forever.” Terrified, Kevin looked out the window. The third floor, not high enough to kill him, but high enough to break his legs. There was no escape. In his desperation, a familiar cowardly idea took hold. Fake and injury to evade responsibility.

He grabbed a small fruit knife from the table and made a shallow cut on his wrist, enough to draw blood, but not life-threatening. Then he lay on the floor and pretended to have a seizure. He knew if he was rushed to the ER, the lone sharks wouldn’t dare make a scene at a hospital and the police would have to get involved.

When the thugs kicked down the door, they found him lying in a pool of blood, mostly ketchup, from a noodle packet he’d smeared on himself for effect. Panicked at the thought of a murder charge, they fled. The motel owner rushed in, saw the scene, and immediately called 911. Kevin was taken to the nearest hospital. He lay on the gurnie, eyes squeezed shut, but his ears were open, listening.

I’m safe, he thought. At least for tonight. But he didn’t know that news of his attempted suicide had been relayed to me by Alex’s people almost instantly. He’s putting on a show, I said, watching the motel security footage on my tablet. The way he was smearing ketchup on his arm was truly pathetic.

“What do you want to do?” Alex asked, adjusting his tie. “Pay a visit to an old friend? We have to. After all, we were married for 10 years. Besides, I need to deliver a final prescription to cure him of his delusions.” The emergency room smelled strongly of antiseptic. Kevin lay in a bed, his wrist bandaged, an oxygen mask over his face.

He was figning a deep coma, but I noticed the heart monitor was beeping steadily, even a little fast from anxiety. Alex and I walked in. I was dressed in all black, carrying a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, flowers for a funeral. Alex was beside me, holding a black leather briefcase. A nurse tried to stop us, but Alex flashed a hospital benefactor’s card.

Sterling Logistics was a major donor. The nurse bowed her head and quietly left, closing the door behind her. I walked to the bedside and placed the white flowers on the nightstand. The click of my heels on the lenolium floor was the only sound. “Stop pretending, Kevin. Your acting is terrible,” I said calmly. He remained still, but his eyelids fluttered.

He was trying to outlast me. “Fine, if you won’t wake up, I’ll just talk to the corpse,” I said, pulling up a chair. The doctor said the cut on your wrist was superficial. Three stitches. But the disease of cowardice you suffer from. There’s no cure for that. Knowing the charade was up. Kevin slowly opened his eyes and removed the oxygen mask.

He glared at Alex and me with a mixture of hatred and fear. What are you two doing here? Came to see if I was dead yet? Your death would be too easy for you. Alex spoke up from the foot of the bed. We came to bring you some good news. The lone sharks who were after you? The police busted their entire operation last night. Kevin’s eyes lit up.

Really? So, I’m safe. Safe from them? I smiled. A smile Kevin once called angelic, now as sharp as a surgeon’s blade, but not from the law. I nodded to Alex. He opened his briefcase and took out a document with the official seal of the IRS. This is a formal notice of criminal investigation into K build construction for tax evasion.

The total amount, including penalties for fraudulent invoicing, comes to nearly $5 million. The investigators already have sufficient evidence that you were purchasing fake invoices from a network of shell companies run by Melany’s family. Kevin bolted upright, forgetting the pain in his wrist. No, it wasn’t just me. It was Melanie. She told me to do it. I just signed the papers.

you signed, which means you are legally responsible,” I replied coldly. Melanie is smart. Her name isn’t on a single document related to your company. Every signature, every seal belongs to the director, Kevin Miller. Who do you think a jury will believe, a desperate, debt-ridden man like you? Or the black and white evidence? Kevin was trembling, sweat pouring down his face.

He was staring at the gates of a federal prison. A tax evasion case of this magnitude could mean 10 to 20 years. Ava, help me. Kevin fell back on his old tricks, scrambling out of bed and kneeling before me. You’re a CFO. You know the law. Please help me. I don’t want to go to prison. I still have my parents. I looked at him without a flicker of emotion.

I gave you a chance when I took your assets to settle the bank debt. That could have been the end of it. But your greed and Melany’s was too great. You went too far. Is there a way out? Alex suddenly asked, playing the good cop. If you cooperate with the investigation, give a full confession, and provide evidence against the true mastermind, you might receive a plea deal, a lighter sentence. Kevin clung to this lifeline.

He turned to Alex, nodding frantically. I’ll talk. I’ll tell them everything. I kept a private ledger, a notebook detailing every single cash split with Melanie. She made me write it down for her records. I hid it in the safe at my parents house. Alex and I exchanged a look. This was it. The smoking gun. That ledger would be the final nail in Melanie’s coffin. Very good, I said, standing up.

You just rest here. An investigator will be here shortly to take your statement. Remember to be honest. It’s your only way out. We walked out of the hospital room. Kevin sat on the floor dazed. He knew his life as he knew it was over, but at least he had a chance to drag Melanie down with him. In the hallway, Alex took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You were brilliant. One move, two captures. You dealt with Kevin and got the evidence to put Melanie away for good. It was a team effort,” I said, pulling my hand back to fix my hair. “Now, let’s go get that ledger.” Before Melanie gets wind of this, the rain had stopped. A faint rainbow was visible on the horizon. I took a deep breath of the clean poststorm air. The war was almost over.

Alex and I left the hospital that night. He offered to have his driver take us, but I insisted on driving myself. The feeling of controlling the car as it sliced through the darkness, helped to center me. The Mayback sped down the highway, heading west toward the quiet rural part of Ohio where Kevins family lived.

Kevin’s hometown was a small farming community surrounded by endless fields of corn and soy. It had been 3 years since I was last there for his grandfather’s funeral. Back then, I was still the beautiful daughter-in-law bustling in the kitchen cooking for the entire extended family.

What are you thinking about? Alex asked, breaking the silence. I’m thinking about Kevin’s parents, I admitted. They’re simple, hardworking farmers. They loved me. I can’t imagine how they’ll react when they find out what their son has become and that the daughter-in-law they cherished is the one sending him to prison. Alex sighed, staring out at the dark landscape.

That is the tragedy of greed. Kevin chose this path. He has to face the consequences. And you, Ava, you are doing the right thing. If you let them continue, how many other families would be ruined by their dirty money? I nodded, but my heart was still heavy. Justice sometimes felt cruel. At 3:00 a.m., our car pulled up in front of a familiar three-bedroom ranch house with a red front door.

The white picket fence was a little worn, but the buganvillia trellis by the porch was in full glorious bloom under the soft yellow glow of the street lamp. I stepped out of the car, the cool night air seeping into my skin. A dog started barking from the backyard. A moment later, a light flicked on inside and the front door opened.

Kevin’s father, Walter, emerged, wearing an old flannel shirt over his pajamas, a flashlight in his hand. “Who’s out there?” he called out, his voice raspy with sleep. “Dad, it’s me, Ava,” I said. Walter squinted. Then his face lit up. “Ava, child, what are you doing here at this hour?” “Where’s Kevin?” He hurried to open the gate. “Carol,” Kevin’s mother, rushed out behind him, grabbing my hands.

You came all this way and didn’t even call. Oh, you’re freezing. Come inside. Come inside. Their genuine warmth made my heart ache. They knew nothing about the divorce, nothing about the nightmare unfolding hundreds of miles away. Kevin had hidden everything from them. “We were just passing through on urgent business,” I said, introducing Alex briefly.

They welcomed us in with homespun hospitality, making tea and offering cookies. The house was exactly as I remembered it, simple, cozy. The wedding photo of Kevin and me was still hanging on the living room wall. Our beaming smiles from that day now looked like a bitter joke. Mom, Dad. I began setting down my teacup and taking a deep breath for courage. I’m sorry. I’m not here for a social visit.

I’m here to retrieve something Kevin hid in your safe. Walter looked surprised. Something he hid. He just said that safe was for the property deeds. He was hiding evidence of a crime. Dad, I said deciding directness was the only way. Kevin has been involved in illegal business dealings, tax evasion, and money laundering.

The authorities are investigating. If I can’t get this evidence to them and plead for leniency, he could be in prison for a very long time. Carol dropped her teacup and it shattered on the floor. She gripped the edge of the table, trembling. What are you saying? Are Kevin? He’s such a good boy. He’s changed, Mom. He fell in with the wrong people. Got greedy.

Please believe me. I’m the only one who can help him right now. Walter stared at me, his old, kind eyes filled with an unbearable pain. He knew me. He knew I wouldn’t lie. He stood up silently and went into the bedroom. A moment later, he returned and placed a small wooden box on the table. He sent this last week. said it was a good luck charm for his business. Told us never to open it.

Is this it? I opened the box. Inside was a black leather bound notebook and a USB flash drive. I flipped through a few pages. It was Kevin’s handwriting, meticulously recording dates, amounts received from Melanie, where the money went and who got what percentage. This was it, the ledger of their crimes.

I closed the notebook and took Carols wrinkled hand in mine. Thank you. I promise I will do everything I can to get his sentence reduced, but there’s something else I have to tell you. What else could there possibly be? Carol whispered through her tears. Kevin and I are divorced. The air in the room froze.

Only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner marked the passing of time. Carol broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Walter slumped into his chair, his elderly face seeming to crumble. I couldn’t stay any longer. I was afraid I would break down too. I left an envelope of cash on the table, my first month’s salary from Sterling.

Please take this for your expenses. I have to go now to make it back in time. Alex and I walked quickly to the car. Carol’s heartbroken sobs echoing in the quiet night. Once inside, I buried my face in the steering wheel and finally let the tears come. Let it out, Alex said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. You’ve done all you could.

I cried until I had no tears left for the end of a 10-year marriage, for two innocent old people and for my own lost naivee. As the first light of dawn broke on the horizon, I wiped my eyes and started the car. Let’s go home, Alex. We have an appointment with the police. Melanie isn’t getting away. At 8:00 a.m. on Monday, the Sterling Logistics headquarters was surrounded by police cars and news vans.

The story of the billiond dollar money laundering scandal had been leaked, partly, of course, due to a well-placed tip from Alex’s PR team. Alex and I watched from his office, monitoring the scene on the security cameras. Has the evidence been delivered to the authorities? Alex asked his chief counsel over the phone. Delivered at 6:00 a.m.

this morning, sir. The chief of the economic crimes division reviewed it personally and signed an emergency warrant for the arrest of Miss Melanie Vance. Good. and Kevin Miller. He’s being transferred from the hospital to a detention center as we speak. I looked out the window at the storm clouds gathering over the city. The legal storm had finally made landfall.

Meanwhile, at Melanie’s mansion in a gated community, chaos rained. After a sleepless night, Melanie was frantically stuffing jewelry, watches, and cash into a large suitcase. She could feel the net closing. Unable to move her money through the bank, she was resorting to her backup plan.

Escaped by land to Canada, then fly to Europe. She had already paid a coyote $50,000 to arrange it. “Hurry up,” she snapped at her maid. “Forget the Hermes bags. Just get the diamonds.” The doorbell rang sharp and insistent. Melanie jumped, dropping a diamond ring. She looked at the security monitor. Police. Dozens of heavily armed officers were at her gate.

A commanding officer with a bullhorn was ordering her to open the gate and cooperate. Melanie Vance, we have a warrant for your arrest. Melanie’s face went white. She ran for the back door, which led to a private dock on the river where a speedboat was waiting, but she had miscalculated. Alex and I had anticipated this.

When Melanie threw open the back door, she froze. Standing there blocking her path were not her hired boatman, but two grim-faced federal agents. Going somewhere, Miss Vance?” one of them asked dryly. Melanie stumbled backward, dropping the suitcase. Cash and jewels spilled across the patio. She turned to run back inside, but the tactical team had already breached the front gate and was swarming the house.

Trapped, Melanie screamed in desperation, “I’m innocent. You can’t do this. This is a setup. I want my lawyer.” An officer coldly read her rights and snapped handcuffs on her wrists. The once powerful queen of logistics, now disheveled and defeated, was led away. Her image, captured by dozens of telephoto lenses, was broadcast across the world within the hour.

The stock prices of any company associated with her family plummeted. I turned off the television. It’s over. My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number, but I knew it was Brenda. Thank you, Mrs. Sterling. I saw the news. As promised, I will disappear from this city. I deleted the message. Brenda was just another victim of greed and weakness.

I had no desire for further retribution. Alex poured two glasses of wine and handed one to me to justice. I clinkedked my glass against his, but I didn’t feel the elation I had expected. This victory tasted of Carol’s tears and the bitterness of betrayal. I looked at Alex, the man who had stood by me through this entire war.

He was looking back at me, his gaze no longer cold and calculating, but filled with a deep understanding. “I’m tired,” I said softly. “Rest. Let the lawyers handle the rest. You’ve earned a day off.” I smiled, and for the first time, it felt light and genuine. One month later at the detention center, I was permitted to visit with Kevin to finalize some legal paperwork regarding the assets.

He was rail thin, his head shaved, swimming in an oversized prison jumpsuit. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “How are you?” I asked the question, both a formality and an irony. “Barely alive,” he mumbled. “It’s only in here that I understand the price of what I did. I dream about my parents, about you every night. Your parents are fine. I’ve been sending them money every month. They think you’re on a long business trip overseas.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell them the truth. Kevin’s head shot up, tears streaming down his face. You’re still taking care of them. After everything I did to you, I’m doing it for my own conscience, not for you, I said flatly. They’re good people. They don’t deserve this. I pushed a document through the slot in the glass partition.

This is a civil settlement. Sign it. I’ll use the assets you transferred to me to pay off your tax liabilities and fines. It will be considered a mitigating factor. Your sentence could be reduced from 15 years to maybe seven or eight. Kevin picked up the pen, his hand shaking. He stared at me.

Why? Why are you helping me? You should hate me. I do hate you, I said, looking him straight in the eye with every fiber of my being. But I don’t want to keep that dirty money. I want to erase every trace of you from my life so I can start over with a clean slate. Consider this the last shred of decency.

I can offer the man I once called my husband. Kevin buried his head in his arms and sobbed like a child. He signed the paper, his signature blurred by tears. Leaving the visiting room, I ran into Melanie’s lawyer. He shook his head wearily when he saw me. How is she? I asked a mess. She still refuses to confess. Just screams about suing you and Mr. Sterling.

But the evidence in the ledger in Kevin’s testimony is airtight. She’s facing life without parole for masterminding the whole scheme. All her assets are frozen. No one can save her now. I nodded and walked away. Melanie and Kevin, the two who had colluded to destroy me, were now tearing each other apart in prison. Their unholy alliance had crumbled. Stepping out of the detention center, I was met by brilliant sunshine.

Alex was leaning against his car, waiting for me. In his hand was a bubble tea. My favorite guilty pleasure. Something I’d mentioned off-handedly once. “All done?” he asked, handing me the drink. “All done. A weight has been lifted. Then let’s go home. There’s a major shareholder meeting this afternoon. The CFO can’t be absent.

” I took a long sip of the cool, sweet tea, the taste washing away the bitterness of the past. Yes, let’s go home, honey. It was the first time I’d called him that without it feeling like part of an act. Perhaps after the storm, the sky really does clear. And after everything is broken, you learn to cherish what you have. The trial concluded 6 months later. It was a media circus.

I sat in the gallery next to Alex. In the defendant’s box, Melanie and Kevin stood far apart, refusing to look at each other. Melanie looked haggarded and old. Her hair stre with gray. She denied everything, blaming everyone but herself. Kevin, in contrast, confessed to everything, apologized and accepted his fate. The verdict came down. Melanie, life in prison for embezzlement and money laundering with forfeite of all assets.

Kevin, 8 years for tax evasion and conspiracy, his sentence reduced due to his cooperation and restitution. When the judge read the sentence, Melanie collapsed, wailing. Kevin just bowed his head. He looked at me one last time, his eyes filled with regret and a strange gratitude.

I gave him a slight nod, a final farewell to our past. As we left the courthouse, surrounded by flashing cameras, Alex took my hand. It’s really over, he said. Yes. What goes around comes around? I replied. We stepped out into the blinding sunlight. The mission was accomplished. The traitors had been punished.

But instead of elation, I felt a vast hollow emptiness. I looked at Alex. He had been my mountain through all of this. But now that our common enemy was gone, what reason did we have to stay together? I want to go home and rest, I said quietly. Of course, I’ll take you. The car ride was silent. My mind was already racing.

It was time to execute the final clause of our contract. A week after the trial, I spent the morning at the office putting the final touches on my handover documents. Everything was in perfect order. At noon, I opened my desk drawer and took out a white envelope. Inside was the uncontested divorce petition already signed by me.

I took a deep breath. This was our deal. This marriage was a business arrangement. Now that the business was concluded, I had no reason to continue tying Alex down. He deserved a wife who came to him for love, not revenge. I walked to his office. He was on a video call with international partners. He motioned for me to wait.

I sat on the familiar sofa watching him. The focus, the decisiveness, the sharp intelligence. It had all become so dear to me. I realized how much I would miss him. When the call ended, he walked over smiling. What’s up? Did my CFO find another embezzler? I didn’t smile back. I placed the white envelope on the coffee table.

No, I’m here to terminate our contract. The smile vanished from his face. He looked at the envelope, then at me, his eyes darkening. What is this? The divorce papers? I said, my voice steady. We had an agreement. When the job was done, I would give you your freedom. Melanie is in prison. The company is stable. My mission is complete. Alex picked up the envelope but didn’t open it.

He just turned it over and over in his hands. You really want to leave? Yes, I’ve taken enough from you. I have enough now to live comfortably. I want to find myself again. Find yourself? Alex neared slightly. Or run away. I’m not running. I’m honoring our agreement. You’re a businessman, Alex. You of all people understand the importance of a contract.

I stood up, unable to meet his gaze any longer. I’ve already packed my things at the penthouse. Thank you for everything. Goodbye. I turned and walked away, each step feeling like it was weighted with lead. I waited for him to say something, to ask me to stay, but all I heard was a deafening silence. I closed the door behind me, and the tears began to fall.

I moved back into a small condo I’d bought with my own money. For three days, I tried to resume a normal life. Yoga, shopping, seeing friends, but my mind was a wreck. I kept checking my phone. Nothing. Alex never called. On the fourth day, my doorbell rang. I looked through the peepphole and my heart leaped into my throat. It was Alex. I opened the door.

He looked tired, but as impeccable as ever in his suit, he walked straight past me into the apartment. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to sound strong. Did you sign the papers? He didn’t answer. He pulled the divorce petition from his jacket pocket. In front of me, he tore it in half, then in quarters, then crumpled the nation, he said flatly.

As chairman, I do not approve this resignation. This is ridiculous. This is our marriage, not the company. He stepped closer, backing me against the wall. So close I could feel the warmth radiating from him. To me, they are one and the same. Listen to me, Ava. My assets are worth hundreds of millions. My books are a nightmare. I have thousands of employees. I can’t manage it alone.

You are the only person who knows every corner of this company. The only person I trust implicitly. Are you really going to abandon ship now and leave me to handle this mess? You can hire another CFO, I whispered. I can hire a CFO. I can’t hire a wife, he said, his eyes burning into mine. I don’t need a trophy to display in my home.

I need a partner, someone strong enough to stand beside me, smart enough to challenge me, and ruthless enough to protect this family with me. That person is you. But we started with a contract. The most successful contracts he cut me off are the ones both parties want to renew for life. I want to renew this marriage contract with you, Ava.

term indefinite profit sharing 50 over 50. I’ll assume all the risk. Will you sign? It was the most brutally pragmatic, shark-like, and utterly romantic proposal I had ever heard. It wasn’t flowery, but it moved me more than any sweet words ever could. He wasn’t saying he loved me. He was saying I was irreplaceable. I looked down at the shredded paper on the floor, then back up at him. You’re a clever man.

getting a CFO and a wife with no recruitment fees. He smiled, a rare, brilliant smile. I’m an investor. I never let the best deal of my life get away. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. Come home, Ava. The penthouse is cold without you. I can’t sleep. I moved back to the penthouse by the river.

This time, I was not a guest or an actress. I was its mistress, and I was Alex’s partner. Our life was not a romance movie. We were two workaholics. Our dinners often filled with fiery debates about business strategy. But beneath the pragmatism was an unbreakable bond. One evening, we were sitting on the balcony overlooking the river. I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling a profound peace.

You know, I said softly. I used to think happiness meant sacrificing everything for a husband. Now I know true happiness is being yourself, being respected, and conquering new heights with the person you love. Alex squeezed my shoulder. You taught me that a woman can be the most brilliant warrior. Thank you for walking into that cafe.

Thank you for agreeing to my crazy contract. And thank you, I laughed, for not signing my divorce papers. Never, he said, kissing my hair. I’m a shark. Once I bite, I never let go. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it and smiled. The quarterly report is in. Profits are up 30%. All thanks to my wife.

So, what’s my bonus? I asked playfully. You get me for the rest of my life. Is that enough? I laughed, my heart full. The painful past was a distant memory. Kevin and Melanie were paying their debts to society, and I was holding my own happiness. a real tangible happiness built not on sacrifice but on intellect, strength, and a mature, formidable love.

The marriage contract, born of revenge, had become a lifetime commitment, the most successful merger either of us had ever negotiated.