Chapter 2
Stepping out of the courthouse, Chelsea was met with a blue sky and blinding sunlight.
She took a deep breath of the exhaust-laden city air, feeling much better as the boulder that'd been crushing her chest for so long was finally starting to shift.
The divorce certificate weighed nothing in her hand, yet it stood like an invisible door, completely cutting her off from the past seven years of her life.
It wasn't the relief she'd imagined, nor any overwhelming sadness—just quiet finality and a faint trace of exhaustion.
She didn't go home right away. That place, once filled with happiness, now reeked of betrayal and scheming, and she wasn't ready to face it yet.
She sat down on a bench by the road and scrolled to a contact.
"Mr. Carter, it's me," said Chelsea.
"Ms. Stewart, how did it go?" There came a composed, professional male voice from the other end of the line.
Chelsea replied, "It's done. He signed the agreement."
"Excellent. I'll push through the asset division and company transfer paperwork ASAP. Don't worry, Ms. Stewart. We'll handle every detail by the book—everything will be done properly and legally. You'll get what's yours," said William Carter, the seasoned divorce lawyer Chelsea had hired well in advance. The guy knew his way around both boardrooms and messy breakups.
Chelsea smiled, "That'd be good. Thank you, Mr. Carter."
"Just doing my job," said William. "So what are you gonna do next?"
Chelsea watched the bustling street for a beat before answering, "First, I'll find a place to stay. Then... I'm taking back what's mine."
After the call, Chelsea hailed a cab to the pre-booked serviced apartment downtown.
The place was in a prime location with tight security, and most importantly, complete anonymity.
She needed a quiet place to collect her thoughts and prepare for the coming corporate showdown.
The room was spacious, with simple yet modern decor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows stretched a bustling cityscape.
Chelsea dropped her luggage. She didn't even pause to rest. Instead, she immediately opened her ever-present laptop.
The laptop screen blinked awake, casting a cool glow on her composed, focused face.
She logged into an extremely well-hidden back-end management system—the gateway to the company's core database and financial system, which she had built herself.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, entering line after line of codes and commands.
She was running her final checks and locking everything down.
Hayes was naive, thinking that by controlling the company's marketing and operations, he could have everything under his thumb.
From server infrastructure to core algorithms, from client databases to payment systems, Chelsea had firm control over every critical node of the company. She'd set up tiered access levels and firewalls, keeping the master keys for herself.
In the past, she had given Hayes admin privileges—not just out of trust, but also to let him focus on his work without worries.
That trust was gone now. So were his access rights.
She reset access permissions for several key accounts, encrypted and backed up the core data of key projects, and updated the contact details for several major suppliers—suppliers she had personally negotiated with, who only took her calls.
Next came the company's financial records.
Chelsea's eyes turned icy as she scanned the records—fund after fund systematically siphoned by Hayes under various pretexts, all funneled into Vivian's account.
Ranging from a few hundred to a few grand at a time, these small amounts accumulated over the years, and astonishingly, they now totaled nearly 300 thousand dollars.
She methodically captured screenshots, backed them up, and systematically organized them into categorized files.
These were irrefutable proofs of Hayes' cheating and corporate embezzlement—the solid foundation that gave Chelsea unshakable leverage in the divorce settlement.
"Hayes, this is just the interest," Chelsea murmured, her eyes cold.
By the time she finished, evening had settled in.
She ordered a simple takeout meal and sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the sea of city lights outside. Yet inside, she felt only emptiness.
Out of the blue, her phone rang, an unknown number flashing on the screen.
She hesitated a moment and then swiped answer.
"Chelsea, where the hell are you?" Hayes' furious voice crackled through the phone, laced with barely contained panic.
Chelsea held the phone away until the yelling stopped. Then, in a cool tone, she asked, "Is there something you need, Mr. Quinn?"
The formal address of "Mr. Quinn" made Hayes choke on his next words.
"You... You leave the house keys! And come get your crap right now! My place isn't your storage unit." The bluster in his voice couldn't hide the shake underneath.
"Keys are on the entryway shelf. I'll have movers come by tomorrow to collect my belongings." Chelsea's tone stayed even. "Until you move out, I still own half that apartment. So you and your 'guest' might want to behave."
"You're going too far!" snapped Hayes.
"Really?" Chelsea scoffed. "After you paraded your mistress around and kicked me out with nothing, do you really think I'm asking too much?"
Hayes was left speechless.
"If there's nothing else, I'm hanging up then. Any asset division or company business goes through my lawyer now," said Chelsea.
Then, she hung up without waiting for a reply and immediately blocked him.
Silence never sounded so good.
Meanwhile, back in what was once their home, there was tension in the air.
Hayes sat stiff on the couch, his face darkened with rage, clutching the divorce papers that had stripped him of all dignity.
His mother, Janet Quinn, sighed dramatically nearby, nagging nonstop. "I told you Chelsea was no pushover! Quiet as a mouse but sharper than a fox—she's had her guard up this whole time. How could you let her hold the majority stake in the company?"
Hayes waved her off impatiently. "What's the point of saying this now?"
Back when he and Chelsea signed the equity agreement, the company was just an idea. It was Chelsea's technical expertise and family money that kept it alive. He'd been so caught up in startup dreams that the shares seemed irrelevant. All he wanted was to get the company off the ground. Now, regret crept in.
Vivian sat fuming, her face twisted in frustration. She'd been counting on taking over Hayes' company and assets. But now, seeing how few shares he had left, she was unsure he could even keep the company afloat. And of course, no more funds for her luxury lifestyle either.
"Hayes, so Chelsea really owns most of the company?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes!" Hayes exploded. "She's got the damn agreement! Fuck, how did I forget about that?"
"So... what are we supposed to do now?" Vivian's voice quavered. "We're still over 300 thousand dollars short on the down payment for that riverfront condo—"
"Always about the damn condo!" Hayes massaged his temples. "The company's about to go under, and you're worried about real estate?"
"Can you blame me?" Vivian flared up. "When we started dating, you promised me a mansion after the IPO! Now that you're divorced, you're backing out?"
"With what money?" Hayes shot back. "That scheming bitch took every last penny!"
"Watch your mouth!" Janet cut in. "If you hadn't dumped Chelsea for this skank, we wouldn't be in this mess. She's nothing but a jinx!"
"Who are you calling a skank?" Vivian shrieked back.
The living room erupted into a storm of shouting, finger-pointing, and wailing.
The once warm home had now turned into a battlefield.
Hayes, who started all this, slumped on the sofa, drowning in the noise. For the first time, a wave of panic and confusion surged within him.
He'd really messed everything up.
Chelsea—the woman he once thought he could control—had been an iceberg all along. He'd only seen the surface, never noticing the force beneath that could turn his entire world upside down.
It seemed the storm was only just beginning.