Chapter 3

The next day, the executive office of Summers Group still carried the lingering scent of last night's whiskey and perfume.

Richard reclined in his massive leather chair, massaging his throbbing temples.

Jessica moved with a gentle grace, preparing his coffee.

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard, Richard. I'm here to help you now. We'll clean up that mess that woman left behind, piece by piece," she said softly.

She was obviously talking about me.

Richard merely grunted in response, savoring her attentiveness.

Finally, he was free of Claire, who was always calm, always logical, always as precise as a machine.

The thought of never again facing that impassive expression brought a wave of relief.

From today onward, Summers Group was truly, completely his.

A glance at the wall clock confirmed the time.

It was exactly nine o'clock.

The morning meeting awaited.

He rose to his feet, and Jessica was immediately there, straightening his tie with practiced hands.

"Shall we go, my Mr. Summers?" Rising on her toes, she planted a light kiss on his cheek.

They shared a smile, brimming with shared triumph, and stepped out together.

Yet, something felt off the moment they left the office.

The usual corporate hum was replaced by hushed clusters of employees whispering in the hallways.

Faces bore looks of confusion and unease.

As Richard approached, the groups scattered, but their anxious, questioning eyes followed him down the corridor.

Frowning, he brushed the odd atmosphere aside and pushed open the conference room doors.

Every senior executive was present, seated in utter silence.

The room felt tomblike, each person's expression grim.

"What's going on? Why the long faces first thing in the morning?" Richard demanded, his voice low.

No one answered.

All eyes drifted toward David Clark, the Chief Financial Officer.

David looked pale, lips trembling, a sheen of cold sweat on his brow.

Spotting Richard, he stumbled forward as if seeing both a savior and his doom. "Mr. Summers! It's a disaster!"

A cold knot tightened in Richard's gut.

"Calm down, tell me. What happened?" Richard said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady.

David almost crumpled, panic written all over his face.

His voice was shrill, on the verge of tears, cracking from panic. "The money! It's gone!"

Jessica snickered from the side. "Mr. Clark, are you serious? How could all the company's money just vanish?"

Ignoring her, David stared desperately at Richard. "All our liquid assets... every last cent of the 17.5 billion dollars... was transferred out this morning at nine o'clock. The accounts are empty!"

The words hit Richard like a physical blow.

He grabbed David by the collar. "What are you talking about? The highest authorization rests with me. No one can touch that money without my approval."

David looked like he was about to cry. "It's true, Mr. Summers. Every account has been cleared out. We can't even cover payroll this month, the utilities are overdue, and the banks are calling nonstop!"

A collective gasp swept the room.

Seventeen and a half billion dollars.

That wasn't just a number.

It was the lifeblood of the entire Summers Group empire.

Without it, this colossal enterprise would grind to a halt and collapse within days.

Releasing David, Richard staggered back and slumped into his chair, all color drained from his face.

"Impossible... This can't be happening..." he muttered to himself, stunned.

His mind raced, then seized on a single, terrifying thought.

"Claire! It's her!" he exclaimed.

Jessica's smile vanished. "Don't be ridiculous! You fired her yesterday. She's nothing now."

Yeah, she was nothing now.

Yet, the dread coiling in Richard's chest only grew heavier, more certain.