Chapter 2

Helen walked straight over to Andrew and slipped her arm through his.

"Andrew, who are these people? Did you seriously hire a security company for the annual party?" she asked.

Andrew didn't answer. He was still staring at the man who had just called me "Ms. Winters."

Helen followed his gaze, glanced at me, then at the man bowing in front of me.

Her face changed. "Laura, what kind of stunt are you pulling?"

I ignored her.

She raised her voice. "I'm talking to you! Bringing in a bunch of shady people to mess up the annual party. Are you trying to make the Grant Family look even worse?"

Helen turned to Andrew. "I told you from the start, you should've kicked her out long ago. But no, you insisted on marrying her, claiming she'd help you build your business. Help with what?

"For ten years, she's either glued to the TV or wandering the aisles at the grocery store. What business does she have meddling in company affairs?"

Sophia handed her a glass of water. "Take it easy, Mrs. Grant."

Helen took the water and gave Sophia's hand a gentle pat. "You're always so considerate, Sophia," she said.

Then she turned to me, slamming her glass onto the table. "Laura, I'm only here for one thing today."

She pulled an envelope out of her bag and slapped it down in front of me.

She said, "Divorce papers. My lawyer drew them up. Sign them, take 160,000 dollars, and get out. But the house, the car, the company shares, don't even think about touching any of it."

Andrew said, "Can we not do this today, Mom?"

Helen cut him off. "Why not? Look at her, making a scene at the annual party. Does she look like a proper Grant Family daughter-in-law? If your father were still here, he would've kicked her out ages ago!"

She jabbed a finger at me, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Ten years married into the Grant Family, and she hasn't earned a single cent, hasn't given us a grandchild, and still puts on airs every day. I've had enough."

I glanced down at the envelope.

It was kraft paper. The flap wasn't even sealed, so I could see the edge of the white paper inside.

I said, "Helen, maybe you should hang onto these papers for now."

"Hang onto it? You're not going to sign?" she shot back.

I looked up at her. "It's not that I don't want to sign. Now is not the time."

"Any time is the right time!" Helen snapped, stepping closer. "What leverage do you think you still have?"

I didn't answer. Because the man who had been bowing finally straightened up.

His name was Jason Reed. What happened next would make sure no one here ever forgot his name.

"Ms. Winters, I've got the documents," Jason said.

He opened his briefcase, pulled out a neatly bound folder, and handed it to me with both hands.

Andrew shot to his feet, his chair sliding back half a foot.

"Ms. Winters? Are you kidding me? This is the Grant Family's company! Get your facts straight before you talk," he snapped.

Jason didn't even bother to turn his head.

He said to me, "The withdrawal agreement is done. All three venture capital firms are backing out. The funds will be transferred within twenty-four hours."

That sentence landed like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over everyone.

The shareholders couldn't sit still anymore.

"Withdrawal? Who's backing out?"

"Which venture capital firms? Explain yourself!"

"Mr. Grant, say something!"

The color drained from Andrew's face, layer by layer.

He stared at Jason, then at me, his throat bobbing like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

"Laura, who is this guy?" he asked.

"Sit down," I replied.

"You want me to sit down?"

"When it comes to venture capital, I know more than you do. Sit down, and I'll tell you."

"You know more than me?" Andrew forced a laugh, like he'd swallowed a fishbone and was pretending it didn't hurt. "You can't even read the company's quarterly reports, and you think you know more than me?"

I said, "That's right. I was the one who brought those three VCs in."

The whole room went dead silent for a moment.

Then, Henry jumped in with a loud, mocking tone. "Mrs. Grant, that's not even a funny joke. Mr. Grant flew to Ligow six times to land those VCs.

"I was right there at the investment committee meeting when he signed the papers. If you're going to talk yourself up, at least make it believable."

A few people laughed, but it was way quieter than before. Their eyes kept nervously flicking over to the bank staff by the door.

Sophia stood there with her wine glass, still smiling, but her eyes darted around, trying to figure out what was happening.

Helen snorted. "She's totally lost it. Andrew, get security in here and throw these people out. This is ridiculous."

Andrew didn't call security. He realized the three guys in bank uniforms were already walking in.

The leader was a man in his forties, shirt buttoned to the top, and his badge read: Branch Manager.

He didn't even look at Andrew or anyone else.

He walked straight up to me and gave a slight nod.

He said, "Ms. Winters, per your request, our bank has legally frozen all fourteen corporate accounts of BrightPath Group. That includes the primary account, general accounts, and special accounts. Every single one."

He pulled a document out of his briefcase and spread it out on the table. "We've frozen a total of 170 million dollars."

White paper, black ink, and a red official seal. Every word was crystal clear.

Suddenly, it was like someone just sucked all the air out of the room.

"F-Frozen?" Andrew's words came out dry and cracking.

He lunged for the document, hands shaking so much that when he hurriedly flipped two pages, the paper ended up creased and ragged beneath his grip.

"Why?! This is my company. My accounts. My name is right there on the business license!" Andrew shouted.

The branch manager didn't even bother to answer. He pulled out another file from his briefcase and slid it across the table.

Share pledge agreement, right there on the cover.

The pages were crisp, binder edge perfectly aligned. Down in the lower right corner, Andrew's signature was scrawled so forcefully it nearly tore through the sheet.

Terms were spelled out clearly. Andrew pledged his 51% stake in BrightPath Group to the bank for a 230 million loan for company operations, with a three-year term.

It was signed two and a half months ago.

Andrew's face drained of all color.

"T-this is a normal loan! The company needed cash, so I put up my shares. What's the big deal?" he stammered.

The branch manager said, sounding bored, "Here's the problem. Legally, the shares you pledged were never yours to begin with."

The entire room went dead silent.

Sophia's hand slipped, two drops of red wine landing on the tablecloth and spreading there.

Andrew whipped his head around to stare straight at me. "What do you mean, they weren't mine?"

The branch manager stepped sideways out of the way.

I stood and walked right up to Andrew.

I took another document from Jason. The pages were aged, corners frayed, like they'd been handled countless times.

"Ten years ago, BrightPath Group was founded," I said, flipping the first page. "Registered capital: 1.7 million dollars. You put in 170 thousand dollars, which is ten percent."

I flipped to the next page, pointing to the list of shareholders. "I put in 1.53 million dollars. Ninety percent."

The business bureau's red stamp was centered right there.

First line: Laura Winters, capital contribution: 1.53 million dollars, shareholding: 90%.

Second line: Andrew Grant, capital contribution: 170 thousand dollars, shareholding: 10%.

Andrew staggered backward, bumping his lower back against the table's edge.

Andrew yelled. His neck veins bulged with the force of his outburst. "Impossible! I built this company from scratch!

"You? You only warmed up my dinner and signed for my packages! You don't even know which way the front door faces!"

I shot back, "Funny, would someone who only warms meals drop 1.53 million dollars into your startup?"

My tone stayed calm. "Or did you forget whose money kick-started this ten years ago?"

Andrew opened his mouth, throat working, but not a single sound coming out.

Helen jumped in, voice trembling, "Impossible! My son built this from nothing! Your money? You're a country bumpkin. How could you get 1.53 million dollars?"

I ignored her and continued, "When the company hit 30 million dollars in valuation, you started worrying I owned too much, that it made you look like you were just riding on my coattails.

"You said the word would get out that you only made it because of your wife. You wanted to stand tall as the boss, with your own reputation."

I held up another file. Bold letters on the cover said, "Shareholding Proxy Agreement."

I said, "So I signed a proxy agreement. You held the shares for me, but they're still mine. Look. Clause seven: The proxy holder can't touch a single share without written consent from the real owner."