I Don't Do Mercy: The Ex Who Knelt

Adrian Carter was my husband.

He was making out with his secretary in my car, leaving stains all over my son Ethan Bennett's seat.

When I walked in on them, he didn't show the slightest remorse. Instead, he sneered at me, "What, can't take it? Our marriage was nothing but a contract!"

It wasn't until I froze his billion-dollar deal, smashed his luxury watch, and threw the divorce papers at him in front of everyone that I finally said, "I, Grace Bennett, won't take anything that's been sullied!"

He fell to his knees, begging for mercy.

Too late.

I took Ethan's hand and, without a backward glance, stepped into another man's car.

......

My name was Grace Bennett.

The only daughter of Bennett family, I was known in society as the Ice Queen Rose.

Three years ago, I lowered myself to marry Adrian, who at the time was nothing more than an obscure tech upstart. No one understood, not even my parents.

They said the daughter of the Bennett family should marry a man of equal standing, not gamble on the uncertain future of a nobody.

But I did. I placed my bet.

I bet that the light in his eyes was real, that his vow to build a business empire for me was true.

For three years after our marriage, I poured all of Bennett Corporation's resources into paving his way.

From seed funding to Series A, from a fledgling startup to ringing the Nasdaq bell, I stayed by his side through endless sleepless nights and shielded him from countless open attacks and hidden schemes.

On the night of the IPO, beneath the blinding spotlights, he wrapped an arm around my waist and declared to the world, "Without you, there would be no me today."

In that moment, I thought I had won my gamble.

But when the celebration was over, at two in the morning, I received a video from an unfamiliar number.

The moment I opened it, my stomach churned violently.

On the screen was my silver convertible, one of only ten in the world.

In the passenger seat sat Adrian's intern-Vivian Cross.

She wore a cheap slip dress, straddling Adrian's lap as they kissed with abandon.

The top was down, the night wind whipping her hair into a mess-while also carrying Adrian's hand deeper beneath her dress.

But what stung the most was the back seat.

It was my son Ethan's car seat, meant only for him.

Now, the seat was a complete mess.

A spilled bottle of perfume was slowly seeping into the seams of the cushion.

It was my third-anniversary gift, chosen by Adrian himself-the top note a cool cedar, the base a tender amber. He had said it was like me.

At the end of the video, Vivian smiled at the camera with the smugness of a victor, then held the phone to Adrian's lips.

With the lazy satisfaction of afterglow, his voice hoarse, Adrian spoke into the camera.

"Grace, it was just a stupid dare-no need to lose your mind over it. What's the matter, can't handle even a little game?"

I stared at the phone screen, my fingertips ice-cold, while my heart sizzled as if it had been thrown into boiling oil.

"Can't handle it?" I thought to myself. "Alright then, Adrian. I'll show you what 'can't handle it' truly looks like."

I drew a deep breath, my fingers flying swiftly across the screen.

There were no angry questions, no desperate tears.

I forwarded the video straight to every member of the board, all the Series A lead investors, and the tech tycoons Adrian most wanted to impress.

In the subject line, I wrote just one sentence, "Mr. Carter's new project 'In-Car Immersive Experience' roadshow video-please enjoy, dear board members."

And I hit send.

The world went silent for three seconds.

Then, my phone began to vibrate like mad.

Calls from investors, questions from the board, urgent reports from PR-all came crashing down like an avalanche.

I didn't answer a single one, handing them all off to my personal secretary, Clara Mitchell.

Ten minutes later, Adrian's call finally forced its way through.

I pressed accept but said nothing, placing the phone on my desk and letting his furious roars spill from the speaker.

"Grace, are you insane?! That's a billion-dollar deal closing next week! You'd throw it all away over one stupid video?!"

I sipped my coffee unhurriedly, waited for him to finish shouting, then spoke with cool indifference.

"Fifteen minutes. If my car isn't at Royal Auto Spa getting a full deep clean, that deal is dead-permanently."

On the other end, there was dead silence, followed by the thud of something heavy slamming onto a desk.

I ignored it and rose, walking to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside, the city lights glittered-a kingdom I had built with him, brick by brick. It was one thing to build an empire, quite another to read a man's heart.

Fifteen minutes-no more, no less.

My phone buzzed, and Adrian sent a photo.

In the photo, my convertible sat in the spotless bay of the spa, a technician in white gloves carefully cleaning the stains from the child's seat.

I curved my lips into a smile and dialed the head of the overseas department.

"Inform them-the signing ceremony goes on as planned."

After hanging up, I opened a drawer and took out last year's birthday gift from Adrian-a diamond-studded Patek Philippe.

The dial caught the light, reflecting a cold gleam.

I lifted it just as Adrian's second voice message came through.

"Grace, don't go overboard. It's just a necklace-I'll buy you ten more..."

Before the message could even finish playing, I hurled the phone onto the marble floor of my office.

The sharp shatter rang out like a requiem.

Then I snapped another photo and sent it to him.

In the photo was his prized treasure-the first-generation Gundam figure he'd paid a fortune for at a Ugrarian auction-now soaking in the filthy water of a mop bucket in the corner of my office.

Along with it, I sent just one line of text.

"Adrian, this too is just a dare. Remember my bottom line."

Once I sent it, I blocked his number without hesitation.

I knew he must have been furious enough to kill.

But so what?

Back then, when we arranged the marriage, he knelt before my father, swearing he would love only me for life and never let me suffer the slightest grievance.

It was I who poured Bennett Corporation's channels, connections, and capital into his company without reservation, giving him the glory he flaunted today.

I had believed we would be each other's strongest support.

Yet he had turned our home into a foul joke, reeking of betrayal and filth.

That billion dollars was just to make him wince. The real revenge had only just begun.

I sank back into my office chair and closed my eyes.

What I couldn't drive away from my mind was Ethan's innocent, carefree smile.

That car, that seat-it was where he sat every single day on the way to and from school.

"Adrian, you crossed my bottom line," I thought. "So don't blame me for showing no mercy."

I picked up the intercom, my voice cold as frost.

"Tell Legal to prepare a share transfer agreement. And have the Falcon Team start digging into the backgrounds of all Carter Group's core executives."

It was time for me to take control of the game.

Outside the window, the horizon was turning pale with dawn.

A new day had begun, and my marriage with Adrian was already counting down to its end.

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.