Chapter 4

Over the next week, Sylvia completely overhauled her schedule.

In the past, her days followed a predictable routine of morning yoga, lunch with friends, afternoon spa sessions, and waiting at home to see if Calvin would return for dinner.

Now, every hour was carved into precise, purposeful blocks.

From nine to ten in the morning, she sat in Riley's law office reviewing stacks of divorce files.

Riley had been her college classmate who graduated at the top of his class and built an unbeatable record in marital property splits. Sylvia rarely asked anyone for favors, but she knew when to bring in an expert.

From ten until noon, she pored over the financial records, reviewing five years of Calvin's asset transfers, spending logs, and property deeds.

Riley assigned an assistant to help her organize the paperwork, creating a thick stack of printed documents across the desk.

The assistant, a young woman in her early twenties, gasped when she came across the purchase agreement for Sophie's condo. "Mrs. Hartman, this condo was bought using shared marital assets for 2.8 million dollars, and the deed lists Sophie Young as the sole owner."

Sylvia's expression remained composed. "Flag the date and the exact amount."

"There's more," the assistant added, turning the page. "Since last March, he purchased thirty-four pieces of high-end jewelry and twelve designer bags from Chanel, Dior, and Van Cleef. Every single item was shipped directly to Sophie's place, totaling 390 thousand dollars."

Sylvia picked up her coffee cup and realized the drink had gone cold.

She took a sip anyway, taking in the bitter taste.

"Mrs. Hartman, are you okay?" the assistant asked, her eyes filled with cautious sympathy.

"I'm fine," Sylvia replied, setting the cup down with a sharp click. "Keep going."

*****

Her afternoons were dedicated to a different priority: the clients.

Hartman Holdings relied heavily on three major clients: Richard Crane's real estate firm Crane Realty, Victor Sterling's investment group Sterling Capital, and David Stewart's logistics network Sunner Logistics.

Calvin spent every week taking them out for dinners, golf games, and private spa visits, but Sylvia was the one who maintained genuine relationships with their wives.

For five years, Sylvia remembered every detail of Richard's wife's life: her birthdays, her children's school enrollments, and every room number from her hospital stays.

Victor's wife had an interest in flower arranging, so Sylvia took classes alongside her to earn a certificate.

When David's wife discovered a breast lump last year, Sylvia personally arranged an appointment with a top specialist and accompanied her to the clinic.

None of those personal connections ever appeared on an official corporate spreadsheet, yet they were stronger than any signed contract.

Three months gave Sylvia more than enough time to rewrite the script.

*****

Riley's office sat high above the financial district, overlooking a dense network of glass towers and winding expressways.

On Sylvia's third visit, Riley slid a thin folder across the desk toward her. The cover bore a simple label: Sophie Young.

"Tell me what you found," Sylvia said, sitting upright on the couch.

Riley took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sophie Young is twenty-six and originally from out of town. Her job application listed a four-year degree, but she actually holds a two-year degree.

"It's unclear if Calvin knew about the fake credential, but someone in HR definitely looked the other way."

"Get to the point."

"Here's the key part," Riley said, flipping to the third page and pointing at a line highlighted in red. "Before joining the company, Sophie lived with a man named Jason Ford for two years.

"He works in sales for a small trading firm making modest pay, and the two of them never actually severed ties."

Sylvia focused her eyes on the highlighted sentence. "What do you mean they never severed ties?"

"After Sophie moved into the luxury apartment Calvin bought her, Jason visited her at least two or three times a week. The building's access logs and elevator cameras confirm it, and he stayed overnight on the fifteenth of last month."

Sylvia leaned back against the sofa while the bright overhead lights stung her eyes. "Which means..."

"Which means the child Sophie is carrying might not belong to Calvin," Riley said, putting his glasses back on to meet her gaze.

The office fell silent for several seconds before Sylvia looked down and let out a quiet laugh.

It was genuine. Her shoulders shook slightly as a short, soft sound escaped her throat.

Riley waited patiently for her to speak.

"I need you to handle something for me," Sylvia said, looking up; the smile hadn't quite faded yet.

"What do you need?"

"Arrange a paternity test."

"He won't agree to that."

"I don't need his consent," Sylvia said as she stood up and gathered the file. "I have plenty of his hair, used razors, and toothbrushes at home. Once the baby is born, we simply need to secure a sample from the child."

Riley stared at her, hesitating before asking, "You don't hate Sophie?"

Sylvia folded the report and placed it neatly into her bag, zipping it shut with a smooth, firm pull. "Why waste time hating her?

"I don't care about making some woman bow and apologize.

"I want Calvin to watch everything he built collapse piece by piece until nothing remains."

She walked over to the door, opened it, and turned around to drop one last remark. "And then he will finally realize that losing the woman who shielded him from every storm for five years was the greatest loss of his life."

She closed the door behind her.

Riley sat alone in his office, staring at the closed door for a long moment.

He'd known Sylvia for twelve years.

Back in college, she was always this calm, composed person who kept her emotions carefully under control. People saw her smile and assumed she was gentle, but those who truly knew her understood that a tightly wound wire ran beneath her soft exterior.

If that wire ever snapped, she wouldn't shed a tear; she would simply smile and flip the board.

Riley picked up his phone and dialed his assistant. "Tomorrow, walk me through the civil DNA testing process. The civil kind, not criminal."