Chapter 3 Evidence

On my birthday, I refused to accept the seventh necklace Adrian had sent me.

It was a heavy velvet box, resting quietly at the company's front desk, where no one dared to touch it.

The young receptionist called me in a trembling voice, on the verge of tears.

"Ms. Bennett, Mr. Carter said if you don't take it, he'll just leave it here-until you do."

I stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the endless stream of traffic below, my lips curling into a cold arc.

"Tell him," I said, my voice as calm as still water. "The necklace inside goes into the shredder. The box goes straight back where it came from."

After hanging up, I rubbed my temples, which were throbbing with tension.

I had thought Adrian's pestering would fade with time, but instead, it only grew worse.

It began with relentless phone calls and him waiting pitifully in the rain.

Then came the staged "chance encounters" of picking up my son, the loitering beneath my building, and now this near-masochistic onslaught of gifts.

He seemed convinced that if he was humble enough, persistent enough, I would eventually soften.

He was wrong. My heart had frozen solid the moment he left Ethan alone in the ER, all because of Vivian.

I picked up the intercom and dialed the number of the finance director, Victor Harris.

"Victor, check Ethan's education fund account for me. See if there have been any unusual expenses lately."

"Ms. Bennett," Victor's voice held a trace of hesitation. "Mrs. Carter, one moment... That's odd. There was a five-million withdrawal last month. The note says 'advance payment for an international project.' The approver... was Mr. Carter."

My heart sank like a stone.

Five million? An international project?

Adrian's companies were already on the brink of bankruptcy because of me. Where would he find an international project?

He couldn't even pay his employees without selling off assets!

"Send me the full documentation and approval trail-right now."

I gave the order coldly, my fingertips turning pale from the force of my grip.

Ten minutes later, a scanned copy sat quietly in my inbox.

The evidence was crystal clear.

The payee was a luxury company in Neplain, and the purchase was a limited-edition handbag.

The attachment even included a photo of Vivian wearing sunglasses.

She was at a duty-free shop in the airport, holding that iconic orange bag, flashing a peace sign at the camera.

The date on the photo was exactly the day my son Ethan was rushed to the hospital with acute hives!

I stared at the photo, at the smug pride plastered across Vivian's face, and a freezing rage shot from the pit of my stomach straight to my head.

My son had been shivering in the hospital from a fever and an allergic reaction, crying for me to hold him, while his own father was out buying this tramp a handbag worth ten years of an ordinary family's income!

Just then, a Whatsapp photo from Vivian popped up on my phone.

It was a selfie of her with Adrian, the background showing the newly opened Dreamscape Gardens on the outskirts of the city.

Adrian had truly outdone himself-he drained my son's account, abandoned him in the ER, yet somehow still found time to fool around with his mistress.

I shot to my feet, snatched up my car keys, and stormed out.