Chapter 4
At the back of the closet, hidden behind a pile of clothes Olivia never wore, were several bright orange boxes.
They were Hermès.
I didn't know much about bags, but I knew that brand.
One of those bags could easily cost me a whole year's salary.
There were jewelry boxes, too.
There were also Cartier bracelets, a Bulgari necklace, and a Van Cleef & Arpels four-leaf clover pendant.
Altogether, this stuff must be worth a fortune, probably hundreds of thousands.
No way we could afford any of this on our salaries.
So, this was what she called working overtime.
This was her idea of a bonus.
This was what she meant by working hard for the family.
She really was putting in the effort, just not at the office. She was grinding away in Edward's bed.
I took each piece out, one by one, and spread them across the bed.
It was like I was touring a gallery dedicated to betrayal.
How ironic it was.
I was killing myself for the Grant Group, barely scraping by on a monthly salary.
Meanwhile, my boss was sleeping with my wife and just throwing her a few bags, worth years of my blood, sweat, and tears, as if it was nothing.
What was I?
Was I just a pawn in their little game?
Was I the fool who'd been kept in the dark?
It was two in the morning.
I heard the door lock turn.
Olivia was back.
She tiptoed inside, keeping the lights off, trying to slip quietly into the bedroom without getting caught.
I flipped on the living room light.
The sudden brightness made her instinctively raise a hand to shield her eyes.
I was sitting on the couch, all those designer bags and jewelry spread out in front of me like evidence.
And right beside them was a business trip itinerary I'd printed out ages ago.
"H-Henry?" Olivia stammered, startled.
Olivia froze, her cheeks still flushed from whatever she'd been up to.
She'd changed into something else.
Her hair was damp, carrying the scent of hotel shampoo.
"Why are you still up?" she asked.
She gave a nervous laugh, her gaze flicking over the pile of designer bags and jewelry, her eyes narrowing in shock.
"T-These are all Chloe's. She left them with us because she didn't have room at her place," she stammered, scrambling for an excuse.
She could lie through her teeth without even blinking.
I didn't call her out on it.
If she wanted to keep pretending, I'd play along to the bitter end.
"I know," I said.
I stood up and picked up the itinerary.
I said, "Mr. Grant just called me. There's an emergency with the project out west, and he needs me to go there tonight.
"I was about to leave, but I wanted to see you first."
Olivia was stunned.
She definitely didn't see that coming.
She stared at my calm face, and the panic in her eyes slowly morphed into something else, something I couldn't quite figure out.
Was it guilt or relief?
"That urgent..." Olivia said.
She came over, trying to fix my collar.
I quietly avoided her hand.
"Yeah, it's urgent," I said.
"Just stay home and take care," I added.
I grabbed my already-packed suitcase and headed straight for the door.
"Henry," Olivia called out from behind me.
I stopped in my tracks, but didn't turn around.
"What?" I said.
"Be safe and come back soon," she said, her voice trembling.
I let out a cold, mocking smile.
Come back soon? So, I could keep watching them put on their little show.
"Don't worry," I said.
I pulled open the door and stepped into the pitch-black hallway.
"When I come back, everything will be finished," I said.
Behind me, Olivia clutched her chest, suddenly feeling a rush of panic she couldn't explain.
I didn't go to the airport.
Instead, I caught a cab and headed straight for a 24-hour internet café downtown.
I found a private room and fired up the computer.
The moment my fingers touched the keyboard, I felt alive again.
Since they'd pushed me to the edge, it was only fair I returned the favor and left them with nowhere to run.
I pulled out my backup phone and dialed a number that had been gathering dust for years.
It was Richard's private line.
"Hello? Who's this?" The voice on the other end was Richard, old but still commanding.
"Mr. Richard Grant, it's Henry," I said.
"Henry? Why are you calling so late?" Richard asked, his tone both surprised and concerned.
"It's nothing serious," I replied.
Staring at the lines of code racing across the screen, I said coldly, "Just wanted to give you a heads-up.
"The money you gave me for school, plus ten years of interest, I've repaid you a hundredfold with my work these past ten years.
"From this moment on, I don't owe the Grant family a damn thing.
"What I'm about to do next, I hope you're strong enough to handle it."