Chapter 4
498words
I stopped focusing just on Fisher Group's financials. Instead, I mentally cross-referenced every supplier, overseas subsidiary, and related party transaction.
I am Sophie Sullivan—the financial prodigy who once saved a dying corporation with a single hundred-page analysis.
Did you really think breaking my wings and locking me away would turn me into a helpless lamb awaiting slaughter, Frederick?
I found it.
Not just a single loophole—the entire capital structure supporting Fisher Group is built on systematic fraud.
They've created overseas shell companies to fabricate transactions between themselves, manufacturing fake cash flows to secure massive bank loans.
Using my fingernail dipped in soup broth, I sketched a complete "capital flow death trap" diagram on newspaper scraps.
Every node, every account, every suspicious transfer—all meticulously mapped.
This isn't just a bullet—it's a nuclear warhead that could vaporize the entire Fisher empire and send his family into oblivion.
I whispered to myself: "This is both a funeral and a rebirth, Sophie—for your father and for yourself."
Staring at my creation, a fierce fire ignited in my eyes for the first time in months.
I finally had the power to destroy him, even if I went down in the process.
I started pretending to cooperate—eating on schedule, even requesting extra nutrients.
Frederick was pleased with my apparent submission, believing he'd finally broken me completely.
He even began taking me to minor business functions, parading me around as his conquered trophy.
At one such event, I "accidentally" bumped into a particular man.
"I'm so sorry!" I gasped, deliberately tilting my glass to spill red wine across his expensive suit.
The man glanced down at his ruined suit but, rather than anger, offered a gentle smile.
"No harm done."
While pretending to help clean his jacket, I slipped my rolled-up newspaper fragment into his pocket.
On it was the most critical section of my "death trap" diagram.
That man was Howard Hayes—Beijing's infamous "corporate vulture" who specialized in short-selling overvalued companies and Frederick's greatest business enemy.
I was betting he'd understand it—and have the courage to use it.
Mission accomplished, I returned to Frederick's side, resuming my role as his docile puppet.
The attic door creaked open as Frederick entered.
I hastily concealed my newspaper scraps.
What he tossed before me wasn't another ultrasound but a divorce agreement bearing his signature, accompanied by wedding photos of Lily in a pristine white gown, her face radiant with joy.
"The child in Lily's womb is my true heir." He looked down at me like I was trash awaiting disposal. "After you deliver, sign this and take your bastards with you."
"Of course," he added, his smile turning vicious, "assuming they survive that long."
His words made my status clear—I was a tool with an expiration date.
My window for survival—and revenge—had just narrowed dramatically.
I needed to detonate my nuclear option before he could harm my children.
