Chapter 3

I stared Andrew down. "Did you ever bother to ask me before you pledged those shares?"

It was like Andrew got sucker-punched. He slumped against the table, barely able to stand.

"So this pledge was never valid from the start," I said, turning to the branch manager. "Your bank's account freeze is completely legitimate."

The branch manager nodded. "That's right. And because there were major flaws in the pledge process, we've already activated our risk management protocol.

"If we don't receive written confirmation from the actual investor within seven days, we'll auction off the pledged shares in accordance with the law."

"No—" Andrew shook his head, his voice breaking. "Laura, you can't do this. I'm your husband—"

I looked at him and said, "When Sophia was counting out her nine million dollars, did you ever call me your wife? And when everyone was laughing at me, did you even try to stop them?"

He couldn't say a word.

At long last, Sophia, who had been standing by the door, put her wine glass down.

Sophia's phone screen was still glowing, the bank notification showing the full amount. Every single zero was there.

She looked at the number, then at me, and for a second, her cool facade slipped.

"Mrs. Grant— No, Ms. Winters," she corrected herself, her voice shaking a bit before she pulled herself together. "Even if the shares belong to you, my bonus is still safe, right? Mr. Grant signed it himself, all official, black and white."

"Official process?" I shot back.

I turned to Henry and asked, "Mr. Carson, can you tell me which account this nine million dollars was booked under?"

Henry adjusted his glasses, his throat working nervously. "Uh, it's a special contribution award that went through the payroll account," he stammered.

"Is there any approval record for the payroll account?"

"Yes, Mr. Grant personally signed off on it."

"Did the compensation committee approve it?"

Henry fell silent.

"Did the shareholders vote on it?" I pressed.

Still no answer.

"So, what exactly is this payment?" I pressed.

I stared Henry down. Henry wiped his forehead, his glasses fogging up. He stammered, "I—"

"Let me spell it out for you," I said, flipping through the asset liquidation report Jason had handed me. I found the right page and tapped my finger on it.

I said, "BrightPath Group's net assets are negative five million dollars. The bank has cut off all loans, and all three venture capital firms have pulled out.

"And on the tenth of next month, 12 million dollars in short-term loans are coming due. There's no way to renew them."

I closed the report. "That nine million dollars is the last bit of cash the company has left. It's embezzlement."

Just then, the whole room felt like the temperature dropped 18 degrees.

Andrew's face went completely pale.

Sophia's smile vanished, and she took a step back, her heel scraping against the floor with a sharp sound.

"No, it's a bonus. Mr. Grant said so," Sophia stammered.

I shot back, "Does Mr. Grant even have the authority to approve this?"

She looked at Andrew.

Andrew stared at the floor.

I scanned the room and asked, "Ask the shareholders here, who actually approved this?"

In a split second, everyone dropped their heads.

Mr. Warren, who had just been toasting Sophia, was now frantically wiping his forehead. "I had no idea it was like this! Mr. Grant said it was just a formality!"

"I had nothing to do with it!" Mr. Lowe, the guy with glasses, waved his hands.

"I never even saw the documents!" Mr. Lewis's voice cracked.

They were all washing their hands of it, like they'd practiced this routine.

Helen stood to the side, her mouth opening and closing, but she couldn't get a single word out.

She'd already crumpled the divorce agreement in her hand into a ball.

Just then, my phone rang. The screen lit up, showing an unknown number.

I answered, listened for three seconds, said, "Got it," and hung up.

Nobody else saw my screen, but Jason did. He gave me a slight nod.

I put my phone back on the table and said, "One more thing."

Everyone looked at me. This time, not a single person was laughing.

"You all want to know who I really am," I said.

I didn't wait for them to answer. "No need to rush. We'll take it step by step. Let's start with the company."

I looked at Andrew and said, "Ten years ago, when BrightPath Group was founded, I put in 1.5 million dollars. You never once asked where that money came from."

Andrew looked up, his eyes bloodshot. "You said it was an inheritance from your uncle."

"I don't have an uncle," I replied.

He froze for a second. "Then—"

I said, "That money was mine. To be exact, I earned it myself over three years before I married you."

"You?" Helen burst out, storming over. "You, a girl who didn't even finish college, made 1.5 million dollars in three years? Are you kidding us?"

I ignored her and turned to Jason.

He pulled a manila folder from his briefcase, took out the contents, and laid them out on the table, one by one.

The first was an old photo, its colors faded with age. It showed the front of a small shop, with a sign that read "Laura's Wholesale Clothing."

The second was a copy of the business license. Registered owner: Laura Winters. Registered capital: ten thousand dollars.

The third was a thick stack of bank statements, the first page dated thirteen years ago.

I said, "Thirteen years ago, I rented a six-square-meter stall in the Southville Wholesale Market and sold women's clothes. First year, I made 36 thousand dollars. Second year, 156 thousand dollars.

"By the third year, I was selling both online and offline, with annual sales of over three million dollars, net profit of 630 thousand dollars."

I pointed to the last document. "In the fourth year, I sold the wholesale business, and with the money I'd saved over the previous three years, I put together 1.5 million dollars. And then I met you."

I looked at Andrew. "You said you wanted to get into real estate, that you had the connections and the network, just needed some startup capital. I believed you."

I glanced around the room. "You all know what happened after that. He built up the company, and I stepped back at home.

"But because I stepped back doesn't mean I didn't know what was going on."

Helen's face went from red to pale, her lips trembling as she finally managed to blurt out, "Even if all that's true, you just put up the money. Andrew was the one who built the company!"

I smiled. "Is that so? Mr. Reed, could you bring out the second set of documents?"

Jason nodded.

The second set of documents was even thicker, at least twenty pages. He opened the first page, which listed BrightPath Group's first five core clients.

I said, "Three of these five clients. I met back when I was running my wholesale business. They invested in BrightPath Group not because of you, Andrew, but because I made the calls."

"No way!" Andrew shouted.

I replied, "You can call and check. The numbers are all there. Call them tonight. If even one of them says they don't know Laura Winters, I'll admit I'm wrong."

Andrew didn't make the call. Of course he wouldn't. Because the look on his face said it all. He remembered.

A soft footstep sounded at the door.

A young man walked in, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, holding a tablet.

He came up to me and whispered, "Ms. Winters, it's here."

"What's here?" Andrew's voice was already trembling.

I didn't answer. I just looked at Sophia.

She still had her phone clutched in her hand, the screen already dark.

But she was gripping it so tight, like she was afraid it would disappear.

I said, "Ms. Monroe, how's that nine million dollars holding up?"

Sophia looked up, her composure finally cracking, her lips trembling. "Ms. Winters, I can return the money," she stammered.

"No rush," I said.

I walked to the center of the table, picked up the asset liquidation report, and flipped to the last page.

I said, "Listen up, everyone. As of today, BrightPath Group's total assets are 36 million dollars. Total liabilities are 80 million dollars, and net assets are negative 44 million dollars.

"Excluding the frozen accounts, the company has zero available funds. On the tenth of next month, 12 million dollars in short-term loans will come due, and there's no way to renew them.

"We owe suppliers 22 million dollars, and 13 million dollars of that is already in collection."

I closed the report. "Does anyone here know these numbers?" I asked.

No one spoke.