Chapter 8
917words
Mother didn't keep us waiting long. Her actions announced that phase two of her campaign had begun.
Two days after the meeting, Mother took Alex and me to the family's law firm. Mr. Harrison—the senior partner—greeted us personally. His silver hair was immaculate, and behind gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes missed nothing. He regarded Mother with professional composure tinged with genuine concern.
"Emma, are you absolutely certain?" Harrison slid a document across the desk, his tone grave. "Once we trigger the infidelity clause with this evidence, there's no turning back. This becomes total war."
Mother didn't even glance at the paper. Her eyes remained fixed on Harrison's face, her voice utterly resolute. "I've wasted twenty years on a lie, Harrison. Now I want what's mine—my assets, my dignity, and what remains of my life."
Alex sat beside me, his haggard face bearing a weight no thirty-year-old should carry. "I'm filing too," he added, voice rough but determined. "Grounds of fraudulent misrepresentation. I want damages for emotional distress."
Harrison studied us both, then our steel-spined mother, and nodded. He extracted two more documents from his stack. "Very well. Emma, your petition against Victor. Alex, yours against Xu Wan—or Nina, as we've known her."
The machinery of justice cranked into motion that very hour. With Mother's ironclad evidence—the DNA report and Nina's recorded confession—the court expedited both cases. Twin lawsuits, like matched blades, thrust simultaneously toward Father and the woman who'd nearly destroyed us.
Father clearly hadn't expected Mother to move so quickly or decisively. He was likely still reeling from his public humiliation when the court summons and asset freeze orders hit him simultaneously. Only then did he realize this wasn't some minor domestic squabble—this was existential war.
His lawyer later confided to Harrison that Father had gone berserk in his office, smashing everything within reach. He'd frantically called his bankers and financial advisors, barking orders to transfer everything to his offshore accounts.
But he was too late. Far too late.
The responses were identical: "I'm sorry, Mr. Victor, but according to the emergency injunction just issued, all your accounts, shares, properties, and trust holdings are frozen. No transfers or transactions of any kind are permitted."
Mother had anticipated everything. Those twenty years of marriage hadn't been wasted. Like a patient lioness, she'd silently tracked every financial transaction, every hidden account. All those details Father thought she ignored had become the chains that now bound him.
"How DARE she!" Father roared into the phone, his rage impotent. "Every damn penny that woman ever spent came from MY work. What right does she have to touch MY money?"
His lawyer remained silent for a long moment before responding wearily: "Victor, get a grip. Emma couldn't do this alone. The court approved this freeze because her evidence convinced the judge you're a flight risk—that you'd hide assets to avoid fair division."
Before the battle had truly begun, Father had already lost the decisive round. Every dollar, every asset—pinned to the table like a butterfly to cork. He could only watch helplessly, awaiting the final division.
Judgment day arrived with stunning speed.
The courtroom atmosphere was cathedral-like in its solemnity. Alex, Lily and I flanked Mother at the plaintiff's table—a unified front. Across the aisle, Father sat alone, gray-faced and hunched, as though his life force had been siphoned away. Nina was absent; reportedly barred from even entering the proceedings that would determine her fate.
The judge's voice resonated through the hushed courtroom: "The defendant has committed egregious infidelity, triggering the infidelity clause in the prenuptial agreement. The court rules as follows: First, Ms. Emma shall receive seventy percent of all marital assets. Second, Mr. Victor shall bear financial responsibility for the child, though said child shall have no inheritance rights to the family trust. Third, Mr. Alexander's divorce is granted with compensatory damages."
The gavel fell with finality.
Father collapsed inward, sitting rigid with vacant eyes. In one stroke, he'd lost his wealth, his company, his dignity, and his future. The child—his eternal shame—would bear his name but never his legacy.
Outside, reporters swarmed like locusts. Camera flashes exploded in strobe-like bursts as microphones thrust toward Mother's face.
"Are you satisfied with today's ruling?"
"What are your thoughts about your ex-husband now?"
"What comes next for you?"
Mother halted. Unlike the tearful, fleeing divorcées these reporters expected, she stood calmly on the courthouse steps, her gaze sweeping across the media frenzy. The sheer force of her presence quieted the chaos.
"In marriage, loyalty and respect aren't luxuries—they're the foundation," her voice carried effortlessly through the microphones, clear and commanding. "It took me twenty years to learn that lesson. I hope others won't waste so much time."
With that, she ignored the shouted follow-ups. Alex and I flanked her as she cut through the crowd toward our waiting car.
Only in the sanctuary of the car did Mother's mask slip. She sank back against the leather seat and exhaled deeply.
Her phone chimed softly. A bank notification.
I caught sight of the figure—a staggering sum, enough to build a business empire from scratch—transferred from Father's accounts to Mother's name.
Mother studied the message, and finally, a small smile of satisfaction touched her lips. She looked up, her eyes meeting each of ours in turn. When she spoke, her voice was soft but iron-clad:
"From this moment forward, we control our own destiny."
