Chapter 1
In the video, my wife, Chloe, had her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and beside her was her childhood sweetheart, Blake.
Amidst the deafening music, Blake leaned in and kissed her. Around them, friends screamed and cheered them on.
Chloe didn’t push him away. In fact, as he pulled back, she drunkenly licked her lips.
The camera shook, sweeping across scattered items on the floor—it was her Hermès bag, zipper wide open, revealing a picture of our family of three inside.
I turned off the video and called her.
Her sweet, yet slightly impatient voice came through: “It was just a game, Liam. You’re not going to be petty about it, are you?”
I smiled.
Then I’d show her just how petty I could be.
Games, after all, come with consequences.
I texted my fund manager directly.
The next second, Chloe’s call came through, which I promptly ignored.
She called my assistant next. Mark politely replied, “My apologies, Ms. Henderson, Mr. Hayes is currently with an important client.”
Playing hard to get?
As if I couldn’t play that game too.
Within half an hour, my office door was violently thrown open.
Chloe, in her high heels, stormed over to me, her face contorted with rage, and slammed her phone onto my desk.
“Liam Hayes, are you insane?! Stellar Tech was supposed to be our family business, Henderson Corp’s, next big acquisition! Are you trying to destroy us by shorting it now?!”
The elegant and poised Chloe, who always presented herself as the epitome of grace, lost her composure for the first time in front of me, looking like a furious, scorned woman—all for her childhood sweetheart.
I slowly set down my fountain pen and looked up at her beautiful face, twisted by anger.
“You have twenty minutes.”
“What?”
“Kick him out of your car, then send that car to be destroyed,” I said calmly. “That passenger seat is where my daughter always sits, her spot.”
Ten minutes later, Mark sent me a photo.
Chloe’s white Maserati was being fed into the massive compressor of a metal recycling plant.
I immediately notified my fund manager: “Close out the position and transfer all profits to a charity foundation.”
Then, I sent Chloe a picture.
The landscape painting in her study—her most treasured piece, a priceless, one-of-a-kind masterpiece by a famous artist—was now my canvas. I’d drawn a ridiculous turtle on it with a marker.
“Chloe, this is also a game. Remember, this is your first warning. Next time, you’ll face the consequences.”
On Chloe’s end, there was dead silence.
I knew she must be absolutely furious.
But I was even angrier.
Our marriage began with love. I had single-handedly supported the nearly bankrupt Henderson Corp, turning Chloe from a sheltered heiress into a renowned beautiful CEO in the business world.
I thought our relationship was solid as bedrock.
But she, with her own hands, had smashed a crack through it.
The millions that evaporated in an instant? That was just the beginning.
That night, Chloe didn’t come home.
The next day, I had Mark dig up all the information on Blake, then headed directly to the private club where they’d arranged to meet.