Chapter 4
1145words
Liam's threatening texts and missed calls flooded her phone, but she didn't even glance at them—just enabled Do Not Disturb.
She didn't cry or hesitate. Last night's tears had drained all weakness; what remained was hardened steel.
"Morning, Chloe," she said, wearing a crisp silk robe with her hair in a loose bun, already seated at her desk. "Black coffee, please. No sugar, no milk."
Her voice was frighteningly calm, as if the woman who'd collapsed in my arms last night was someone else entirely.
I nodded, watching as she opened her laptop, the screen illuminating her sharp profile. She didn't look like a woman betrayed, but a queen preparing for battle.
Before coffee's aroma could fill the room, she'd already made her first call.
"Good morning, David," she said into her earpiece, her tone coolly professional. "I need you and Anna to convene an emergency meeting. Half an hour from now?... Perfect."
She immediately dialed a second number.
"Anna, it's Ava. I need you now. Yes, extremely urgent. I'll send a meeting link."
I placed the steaming coffee beside her. She nodded, her gaze fixed on the screen as she set up an encrypted video conference.
This woman had built her empire with creativity and sweat. Now, someone was trying to undermine its foundation, and she was preparing not just to seal the breach, but to bury the saboteur alive within it.
Half an hour later, the meeting began. Two windows appeared: her sharp-eyed financial advisor David, and lawyer Anna in a crisp suit with a serious expression.
"Good morning, Ava," Anna said directly. "What happened?"
Ava wasted no time on emotions; she shared her screen showing a meticulously organized folder.
"I suspect my fiancé, Liam Jenkins, of committing financial fraud against me."
Her words landed like a bomb, instantly sobering the faces on screen.
She opened a subfolder containing conversation screenshots. "Starting last May, Liam requested funds in installments for a 'personal entrepreneurship project,' totaling about $200,000. These chat records show he explicitly stated the funds would be used for 'legitimate business activities.'"
She opened another folder showing electronic receipts for each transfer—dates, amounts, and recipient accounts clearly visible.
"These are all the transfer records," Ava said steadily. "This money went into his personal account and was used to pay for 'Digital Canvas Creations,' as well as his lavish lifestyle."
"And his so-called 'startup project,'" Ava paused, opening one last item—a heavily pixelated video screenshot, "is this."
Even through the pixelation, the obscene nature was unmistakable.
"He sold pornographic videos online and called it a 'monetization project.' This constitutes fraud—he deceived me out of funds under false business pretenses for illegal personal profit."
The virtual room fell silent.
Anna adjusted her glasses, her gaze sharp. "Ava, you've done well. This evidence is substantial. On grounds of fraud, we can recover these funds and potentially pursue criminal charges."
David immediately added: "According to your prenup, with an at-fault party, you can unilaterally freeze all associated accounts. I'll cancel his supplementary cards and freeze your joint savings immediately. He won't access another penny."
"Do it," Ava commanded, in the same tone she used for business decisions. "Execute immediately."
"On it." David replied, fingers already flying across his keyboard.
"Anna," Ava turned to the lawyer, "prepare a legal letter. I want him to return the money and face consequences."
"Understood."
The meeting concluded in fifteen minutes.
Ava closed her laptop, picked up the now-cold coffee, and drank it in one gulp.
"Alright," she stood and stretched as if completing a routine task. "Let's get something to eat. I'm starving."
I looked at her, realizing this war had ended the moment it began.
The day passed in a flood of emails, messages, and numbers. Night fell as expected.
Meanwhile, in a two-star Michelin restaurant across town, Liam was in high spirits.
He was surrounded by so-called "friends," swirling expensive Burgundy in his glass, wearing a smile of absolute confidence.
"So, Liam, when exactly is this big project launching?" asked a blonde man. "We're all waiting to get rich with you."
Liam smiled mysteriously and sipped his wine. "Soon, very soon. Final debugging stage—you know, details make or break success. Once it launches, everyone here will be founding partners."
He basked in their envious gazes—a feeling more addictive than any drug. Leaning back, he imagined himself as a future business mogul being interviewed. Ava? Just a stepping stone, a foolish woman who provided seed money, nothing more.
He'd already dismissed last night's argument. In his view, Ava was just throwing a tantrum. How could she truly break ties with him? What about her perfect public image? What if her fans discovered her fiancé was... No, she wouldn't dare.
After several rounds, dinner was ending. Liam snapped his fingers for a waiter.
"Check, please." He stylishly handed over a black credit card—Ava's supplementary card with its astronomical limit, his most prized status symbol.
The waiter took the card to the front desk.
Meanwhile, Liam continued spinning business fantasies that existed only in his imagination.
Minutes later, the waiter returned with an apologetic expression.
"I'm sorry, sir, but this card..."
Liam waved impatiently: "What's wrong? Won't go through? That's impossible."
The waiter's expression was troubled as he softly but clearly uttered the word that silenced the entire table: "Declined."
The air froze.
Liam's smile stiffened. He thought he'd misheard. "What did you say?"
"Sir, your card was declined," the waiter repeated.
All eyes at the table turned to Liam, filled with confusion and barely hidden mockery.
"Damn it, must be your machine!" Liam's face flushed as he yanked another of Ava's cards from his wallet. "Try this one!"
The waiter hurried away.
Liam sipped his wine, feigning composure, but his trembling fingers betrayed his panic.
A minute later, the waiter returned, both cards in hand, looking even more apologetic.
"Sir, both cards... have been declined."
The table's atmosphere transformed instantly. His friends' eyes shifted from confusion to suspicion, their scrutinizing gazes like needles pricking his skin. His face burned as his carefully constructed façade of wealth cracked under their stares.
"I..." He stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the floor. "Need to make a call."
He fled the restaurant and in the cold night air frantically dialed Ava.
The phone rang for so long he nearly hung up.
"Ava!" His voice barely contained his rage. "What the fuck did you do? Why aren't my cards working?!"
Ava's voice came through perfectly calm, light music playing in the background.
She sounded like a polite customer service rep delivering the worst news in the gentlest tone.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Liam," her voice carried cold, formulaic pleasantness. "Our 'Future Fund' is currently undergoing internal audit."
"Services are temporarily suspended."
Without waiting for his response, she hung up.
