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Then you would have loved my bank account instead of me. Just like you loved David's apparent wealth instead of him." Alex turned back to face her, and Victoria saw something pitiless in his expression. "At least this way, I know exactly what our marriage was worth to you." "That's not fair—" "Fair?" Alex's voice rose for the first time, carrying three years of suppressed anger. "Was it fair when you let your brother humiliate me at every family gathering? Was it fair when your mother treated me like the help? Was it fair when you spent fifteen thousand dollars on a watch for your lover while telling me we couldn't afford a vacation?" Each accusation landed like a slap. Victoria realized she was crying, but the tears felt useless against the weight of Alex's cold fury. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Alex, I'm so sorry. I didn't know—" "You didn't want to know. There's a difference." Alex moved to the sideboard and poured himself a scotch—Macallan 25, she noticed now, another expensive
price of betrayal
# Chapter 6: The Price of Betrayal Victoria stood alone in the dining room for seventeen minutes, watching the candles Alex had lit slowly burn down while her world reorganized itself around a truth she'd never seen coming. Her husband wasn't who she'd married. The question was: who exactly had she been living with for three years? At 8:02 PM, her phone erupted with calls. David's name flashed on the screen again and again, each missed call accompanied by increasingly desperate text messages. *Victoria, where are you? I need to see you.* *Baby, please answer. Everything's falling apart.* *My father's cutting me off. The company's finished. I need you.* The desperation in his words should have moved her. Three hours ago, it would have. The passionate, confident David Morrison she'd fallen for would never have sent messages like these—pleading, weak, clinging to her like a life preserver. But then again, three hours ago she'd thought Alex was a struggling marketing coordinator
moment of Truth
# Chapter 5: The Moment of TruthThe penthouse smelled like jasmine rice and lemongrass when Victoria stepped through the front door at 7:43 PM. For a moment, standing in the marble foyer with her heels clicking against stone that cost more per square foot than most people's cars, she felt like she was stepping back in time.Back to when coming home meant warmth instead of guilt, when the sight of Alex in the kitchen meant comfort instead of complicated emotions she couldn't name."Perfect timing," Alex called from the dining room, his voice carrying that gentle warmth she'd somehow forgotten how to appreciate. "I was just plating everything."Victoria set down her purse and walked toward the sound of his voice, her steps slower than usual. The dining room table was set for two with their wedding china—the Waterford crystal they'd registered for but never used because it seemed too precious for ordinary nights.Tonight, apparently, wasn't ordinary.Alex emerged from the kitchen carryi
first cracked
# Chapter 4: The First CrackThe Union Club's dining room existed in a different century, where old money whispered over crystal glasses and deals worth billions were sealed with handshakes. Alex hadn't realized how much he'd missed this world until he walked through its mahogany-paneled doors.Chen Wei-Ming sat at their usual table by the window, his weathered hands wrapped around a cup of tea that probably cost more than most people's dinner. At eighty-two, he still commanded the room without saying a word—conversations quieted when he passed, and even the most powerful men in New York nodded with genuine respect."You're late," his grandfather observed as Alex approached."Traffic." Alex settled into the leather chair, accepting the scotch that had already been poured for him. "And I had to make a stop.""Business or pleasure?""Justice." Alex withdrew a manila envelope from his briefcase and slid it across the table. "Morrison Holdings' complete financial structure, debt obligatio
art of war
# Chapter 3: The Art of WarThe morning sun painted Manhattan in shades of gold and glass, but Alex had been awake for hours.He stood in his study at 5:47 AM, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that cost more than most people's monthly salary—though Victoria had never asked where he shopped or how he afforded his impeccable wardrobe. She'd simply assumed he was good with money, or perhaps that the clothes were clever knockoffs.The irony almost made him smile.His laptop displayed three separate screens: stock portfolios, real estate holdings, and a detailed dossier on Morrison Holdings that would make corporate espionage specialists proud. But it was the fourth screen that held his attention—surveillance footage from the Carlisle Hotel."Interesting viewing?" Alex didn't turn around as Elena entered his study, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. His sister moved like a predator in Louboutins, all controlled grace and lethal intelligence."Educational," he replied
the man behind the mask
# Chapter 2: The Man Behind the MaskThe penthouse fell into silence at 11:47 PM.Alex stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his study, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and white twenty-three floors below. Manhattan never truly slept, but at this hour, it at least pretended to rest. Unlike him.His reflection stared back from the darkened glass—still wearing the same pressed shirt, the same patient expression that had served him through dinner. But now, alone in the room Victoria never entered because she found his "boring work stuff" tedious, he allowed the mask to slip.The man in the reflection had different eyes. Sharper. Colder. More familiar.His phone buzzed against the mahogany desk. The caller ID showed a number most people would recognize—if they moved in the right circles."Grandfather.""Alexander." The voice carried the weight of eight decades and the authority of building an empire from nothing. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten how to use a
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