Chapter 1
As Wall Street reeled from a hundred-billion-dollar company collapsing in an instant, Vivian Hayes FaceTimed me.
“Honey, stop messing with me! There are tens of thousands of bottles here. How can I possibly drink them all? It’ll kill me!”
She looked pleading, yet utterly helpless. I chuckled. “I’ll ask just one question: Drink? Or not drink?”
“You only have one minute, by the way! After all, people always have to pay for their actions…”
I hadn’t even finished speaking when she hung up.
Soon, her colleagues who were there sent me a video. In it, Vivian Hayes picked up bottle after bottle of red wine from the table, chugging them down like tap water.
In another corner of the video, the white t-shirt boy was frantically yelling “Don’t drink!” looking ready to fight the person who forced Vivian to drink.
With a cold scoff, I grabbed my bag and headed to the vineyard.
On the way, my colleagues kept sending me messages.
“Mr. Thorne, Ms. Hayes has already had thirteen bottles. Is she really okay?”
“Her little assistant is over there, crying pathetically. It’s so annoying! Who does he think he is? I just want to slap him!”
“Mr. Thorne, Liam Foster’s resignation letter is ready. When should we notify him?”
“Some women get a little power and really start to believe they’re untouchable. Can’t wait to see her downfall!”
I let out a soft laugh. It wasn’t that I absolutely had to confront her face-to-face. After all, I rake in millions every minute. She’s not worth even a second of my time.
But people have to pay for their mistakes. And this whole spectacle wouldn’t be complete without me, would it?
I pushed open the door and walked toward Vivian Hayes, who was sprawled on the couch, clearly drunk.
My colleagues, seeing me, nervously tried to pull her up.
She irritably shook them off. “What do you want!?”
I watched as she lifted her head, her eyes flashing with resentment for a split second before it morphed into a desperate plea.
“Honey, is that enough…? I’ve had twenty bottles.”
Seeing Vivian’s pathetic act, I squatted down, gripping her chin. With my thumb and forefinger, I forced her lips into a smile.
“What’s wrong, darling? Not having fun drinking? Smile for me, or someone might think I, Alexander Thorne, am mistreating you.”
Vivian turned her head away in humiliation. I roughly twisted her chin back. “What, already feeling sorry for yourself? Weren’t you having such a blast with that intimate toast earlier?”
Vivian opened her mouth, as if to explain, but ultimately said nothing.
“You, how could you treat your wife like that? Don’t you see how drunk Ms. Hayes is? Just because you’re rich, you think you can insult people however you want?!”
“Hey! Say something!”
Liam, in his white tee and jeans, his eyes red-rimmed, puffed up his chest, trying to act tough as he shielded Vivian behind him. I smirked dismissively.
But I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Vivian Hayes, who had stopped drinking and turned to meet my eyes.
“What? You want to stand up for him?!”
Vivian’s eyes were unreadable. She paused, then picked up another bottle of wine and chugged most of it down in one go.
A cold smile played on my lips as I slanted a glance at the boy.
Our eyes met, and he took two steps back. But then something seemed to click in his mind, and he angrily retorted, “What? Am I wrong? Who treats their wife like this? You have no sympathy!”
I laughed, walking toward him step by step.
With each step I took, he retreated one, until he was backed against the wall, nowhere left to go. I stood over him, laughing condescendingly.
“What? So you do know this is someone else’s wife, huh? So, how does it feel to spend someone else’s money?”
Liam’s eyes were red, as if he’d suffered a grave insult. He threw his head back and yelled at me, “You, don’t you dare slander me and Vivian! We’re just colleagues. Your own mind is dirty, that’s why everything you see is dirty!”
“No wonder Vivian never wants to come home. You’re so controlling and domineering, what woman could stand it?”
“Shut up!”
Vivian, no longer feigning drunkenness, snapped sharply.
I chuckled softly. “Vivian Hayes, so this is the kind of trash you fall for?”
“Being brainless is one thing, but he’d look embarrassing as a mere office decoration. Your taste has really hit rock bottom.”
Vivian looked up at me, her eyes filled with anxiety. “Honey, I know I was wrong, but there’s really nothing between me and him.”
Before she could finish, I chuckled softly. “Don’t bother. I don’t have time for your nonsense. Finish all these drinks and be home by eleven tonight.”
On the drive home, the scenery outside the car window flashed by.
I never thought things with Vivian Hayes would become so ugly.
Five years ago, she came to interview at my company. She wore a simple white dress, elegant and pure, standing out brightly in the crowd.
In just three months, she went from one of over a hundred interns to a full-time employee and then my trusted assistant in one go.
But she always did things for me that went beyond work, gestures that were thoughtful yet never crossed a line.
She’d always have an extra umbrella for me during the rainy season, remembered every tiny preference I had, and would even mischievously give me candy on Children’s Day.
Then, when I turned 25, my family started pressuring me. I was about to enter a marriage alliance with another prominent family.
She blushed, stammering, “Mr. Thorne, I know I’m not good enough for you, but I’m afraid if I don’t say some things now, I’ll never have the chance…”
“Mr. Thorne… can you wait for me? Wait until I can stand beside you as your equal someday…”
Honestly, I was indifferent. High-society alliances, after all, are nothing more than mutually beneficial arrangements.
But the young woman’s blushing confession did genuinely move me.
However, as the CEO of a trillion-dollar empire, a little bit of emotional stirring didn’t stop me from making her sign a prenuptial agreement. If she ever went back on her word, if she ever cheated on me.
Then every penny I spent on her would have to be repaid tenfold.
For the next three years, I propelled her from behind the scenes to the forefront. I gave her a net worth of hundreds of billions, and her brother became a massively popular movie star.
The Hayes family enjoyed unprecedented glory, their influence unmatched. Everyone greeted her with respect, calling her “Ms. Hayes.”
But some things, when acquired too easily, don’t seem to be a good thing.
It was 10:50 PM when Vivian Hayes sent another message.
“Honey, I’m closing a deal. I’ll be home late.”
I scoffed, indifferently going back to my work.
“Martha, did you just make hangover soup? Pour it out!”
That night, a colleague sent me a screenshot of Liam’s SnapChat story.
“At 4 AM, I saw the crabapple blossoms were still awake.”
The accompanying picture was a selfie of Liam, in dim light, with Vivian’s wedding ring reflected in a swirling glass of red wine.
Immediately after, a friend sent me a video. Vivian, with Liam and a large group of her friends, clinking glasses and having a wild time at a private club.
“Isn’t that your Vivian? She’s really soaring these days!”
“Mr. Thorne, are you losing your touch with your wife?”
I couldn’t help but laugh dryly. These two, either their combined IQ couldn’t hit triple digits, or they were openly rubbing my face in the dirt.
They clearly knew that club was owned by my friend. They clearly knew I’d warned her to be home by eleven.
Vivian Hayes, I gave you a chance. You just didn’t cherish it.
I sneered, opened my SnapChat chat with Vivian, and casually unpinned her from the top of my contacts.
“Ms. Hayes, you’re getting quite bold now.”
Two minutes passed. No reply.
I asked my assistant, “Did she check her phone?”
“She glanced at it, then put it face down on the table.”
I let out a sharp laugh. When did Vivian Hayes learn to play hide-and-seek with me?
“Evading problems won’t solve them, Ms. Hayes. Don’t you understand that?”
Casually, I had my assistant send her brother’s script termination notice, along with the Hayes Group acquisition agreement.
“Alexander Thorne, you’ve gone too far!”
She FaceTimed me directly, her face flushed, brows furrowed.
I slowly sipped my red wine. “Heh, this is ‘too far’? Vivian Hayes, is this your first day knowing me?”
I set my phone aside and slowly said, “I’m a little unhappy today.”
“I’ll give you two choices. Either live-stream yourself slapping your own face, and while you’re at it, call yourself a home-wrecker – make sure you hit hard enough that everyone, even the stray dogs on the street, hears it. Let me check the time… It’s 11:20 PM, isn’t it? If it goes over 1200 seconds, then that’s 1200 slaps.”
“Or, you can make that man get on stage right now and perform a striptease.”
“Just do one, to cheer me up, okay?”