Chapter 4

The lights in the Vance family villa stung my eyes.

As soon as I stepped inside, James rushed over, his face wearing that familiar warmth. "Sweetheart, you're here. Come sit."

He reached for my hand, but I sidestepped and walked straight to the sofa.

Margaret sat in the main seat, cradling an invisible throne.

She glanced at me and spoke bluntly. "Clara, since you're here, I'll keep this short."

She cleared her throat. "You and James will divorce. This villa is yours. The SUV downstairs too. I'll also give you five million privately."

She finished, lifting her coffee cup with an arrogant air.

James jumped in, his tone dripping with feigned sorrow. "Clara, I've let you down. But we can't go on like this. You can't have children, and our family needs..."

"I agree." My words silenced the room.

James froze. Margaret froze.

I looked at her and asked, "Five million? Margaret, how much was our company's profit last year alone?"

Her face stiffened.

I turned to James. "The three million you siphoned from last month's project funds-did it go to your father's gambling debts or Amelia's prenatal care?"

James's face went pale in an instant.

His father, who'd been silent, shot up from the sofa, pointing at me. "You... what nonsense are you spouting?"

"Nonsense?" I smiled, locking eyes with him. "Hanley, when that worker died on your construction site, was it really an accident? How did it feel to spend that insurance payout?"

A crash rang out as his coffee cup shattered on the floor.

Margaret finally snapped, shrieking, "Clara! You lunatic! You've been investigating us!"

"Investigating?" I looked at her, my smile growing brighter. "Margaret, that offshore account is under your nephew's name, right? The money you've been laundering every year-its interest could build a mansion back in your hometown. How does it feel to pave your family's way with my money?"

Her lips trembled, speechless.

I turned to James, the man I loved for three years.

He stared at me, eyes bloodshot, as if he wanted to devour me alive.

I stood and walked toward him, my voice soft enough for only us to hear. "James, the password for your old phone, 1208, was my birthday. You used my birthday as your password and wrote a diary for another woman and her child. You took the money my parents left me to pay off your family's blood debts. You held me, said you loved me, while plotting with your mother to lock me in an asylum and leave me penniless."

With every word, his face grew paler.

"James," I whispered in his ear like a lover's murmur, "do you think I came here today to negotiate?"

His body began to shake.

Margaret lunged at me, reaching for my hair. "You wretched woman!"

I stepped back, dodging her.

At that moment, the doorbell chimed.

Ding-dong. Again and again, sharp and urgent.

I looked at their ashen faces and smoothed my red dress with a smile. "No rush. Your honored guests have arrived."