Chapter2

He was discharged from the hospital less than a week ago.

The stitches in my stomach hadn't been removed yet, and even the slightest movement would cause a dull ache. The FBI search warrant was slammed onto my desk.

“Mr. Arthur, you are suspected of using offshore accounts to launder money, participating in illegal online gambling, and leaking core trade secrets to competitors.” The lead detective, in his forties, looked at him like he was looking at a dead man, his tone formulaic and cold. “The amount involved is as high as fifty million US dollars. Please come with us.”

The cold handcuffs slammed onto the desk with a sharp, grating sound.

I held my still aching stomach and stared intently at the thick stack of transfer documents on the table.

Every document is signed with my electronic signature.

The IP address of each money laundering account was precisely linked to my personal computer.

That's impossible.

My personal computer has a firewall that even state-level hackers can't break through—I paid a lot of money to have it designed to protect Vivian Company's core secrets.

There is only one person in the world who can bypass this firewall and implant this evidence without anyone noticing.

I am willing to share all my passwords with anyone.

I looked up abruptly, past the detective's broad shoulders, and met Vivian's gaze as she stood at the office door.

She was wearing a black trench coat, her arms crossed, coldly watching everything unfold.

My stomach was churning violently, and an utterly absurd thought struck me.

"It was you." My voice was hoarse, and cold sweat slid down my forehead. "You accessed my terminal and forged the entire set of evidence."

Vivian did not deny it.

She didn't even look away.

Julian's suppressed sobs could be heard from the corridor.

“Vivian… I didn’t mean to…” His voice trembled violently, “I just wanted to win some money, I didn’t know it was a money laundering ring… I didn’t know that document was a company secret… I really didn’t mean to…”

oh.

I see.

Julian was the one who started the trouble.

Julian was the one who made the mess.

And I was Vivian's carefully chosen scapegoat.

A surge of anger rose from my stomach, and I abruptly stood up. My weakness made the movement slightly unsteady, but I still glared at Vivian, wanting to question her—

She strode into the office, grabbed my shoulder, and pressed down so hard that I fell back into my chair.

“Detective,” she said, turning to the man at the door, her tone chillingly calm, “please give me two minutes. I need to discuss the company handover with my partner.”

The detective snorted, turned around, and left through the door, closing it behind him.

The door had just closed.

Vivian's composure crumbled instantly, replaced by blatant threat and paranoia.

She grabbed my tie and pulled me sharply toward her, so close that I could see my reflection in her pupils.

"Confess." She uttered those two words, leaving no room for argument.

Looking at that face so close to mine, the face I had loved for seven years, I felt as if my internal organs were bleeding.

"The company is on the verge of bankruptcy, I'm ruined and going to jail, just to protect that idiot?"

"He's not stupid! He was just fooled!" Vivian raised her voice, her eyes blazing with obsessive rage. "Julian has severe depression; he'll die in prison if he goes there! You're so healthy and resilient; what's wrong with you taking the blame for him?"

What's wrong with taking the blame for him?

These words were like a rusty, dull knife, stabbing viciously into my newly healed stomach lining.

I was in so much pain that I couldn't make a sound; I could only look at her in despair.

“And another thing,” Vivian said, her voice quickening with anxiety, “the company’s financial hole needs to be filled immediately. Julian owes the casino fifty million, and if he doesn’t pay it back by midnight tonight, they’ll cut off his hand!”

Her rapid breathing sprayed onto my face.

Then, her gaze fixed intently on my left hand.

"Give me the ring on your hand."

I was jolted and quickly pulled my hand back behind my back.

That was an antique emerald wedding ring that had been passed down through the Pendleton family for over a century.

That was a keepsake my mother placed on my ring finger before she passed away, tearfully instructing me to "pass it down to my wife in the future."

This is the last thing I have left after being exiled by my family.

It is also all my dignity.

“Vivian, this is my mother’s—”

“Your mother is dead!” she interrupted me sharply, her voice shrill like a blade slicing through glass. “She’s been dead for years! But Julian is alive! He needs this money to save his life!”

She lunged at me, gripping my left wrist tightly, her nails digging deep into the skin of my hand.

That spot was exactly where she had forcibly removed the IV needle at the hospital a few days earlier.

The scabbed skin burst open instantly, and fresh blood gushed out.

I groaned in pain, my fingers instinctively curling up.

But Vivian didn't care whether I lived or died.

All she could see was that gemstone that could be exchanged for money.

She pried my fingers apart one by one, her movements rough and almost cruel. The ring was stuck on my knuckle, and she pulled and yanked it forcefully, the metal edge scraping my skin and making a soft grinding sound.

"ah--"

I gritted my teeth, veins bulging on my forehead.

She ignored me and forcefully crushed the ring across my knuckles.

"Tick-tock".

She finally managed to peel off the blood-stained ring.

A pale, bloody mark was left on my ring finger, the skin peeled back to reveal the pink flesh underneath.

Vivian grabbed the ring, not even glancing at it twice, and turned to toss it to the CFO waiting at the door.

"Take it to the black market and pawn it immediately! Settle Julian's debt!"

The CFO hurriedly took the ring and turned to leave.

The detective pushed the door open again, took out handcuffs, and walked towards me.

"Mr. Arthur, please cooperate."

I sat in my chair, my hands covered in blood, watching Vivian walk out of the office without looking back.

She didn't turn around.

Not even a glance.

The office door closed behind me, and the FBI agent's cold handcuffs snapped onto my wrists.

Click.

It's like some kind of judgment.

...

Forty-eight hours of continuous interrogation exhausted my last bit of life force.

They kept asking me the same questions, and I kept repeating, "I did it."

There was no struggle, no explanation.

Because I accepted it.

It wasn't an admission of guilt—it was because Vivian wanted me to admit it.

I sold all my assets—my meager savings, a few stocks, and a car—to raise enough money for bail.

It was late at night when I walked out of the police station.

It was raining cold rain in London, mixed with hail, which pelted my face and stung.

Financial news was being broadcast on a scrolling television screen in the police station lobby.

"...Renowned investor Arthur Pendleton has been blacklisted by the entire industry due to allegations of serious economic crimes. Several partner institutions have announced the termination of all business dealings with him..."

It's the culmination of my years of hard work.

My reputation as a brilliant investor is something I'm very proud of.

I finally managed to gain a foothold in the financial world.

Overnight, I was crushed to pieces by the woman I loved most.

A black Bentley was parked at the bottom of the steps.

The car window slowly rolled down, revealing Vivian's delicate face.

She sat in the warm car, the heater on full blast, with a steaming cup of coffee beside her.

I stood in the rain, soaked to the bone, shivering with cold, and blood seeping from the back of my hand.

"Get in the car." Her tone was as indifferent as if she were greeting a passerby. "Don't stand here; attracting paparazzi will only cause more trouble for the company."

I stood in the rain, motionless.

Rainwater streamed down my cheeks and into my neck, chilling me to the bone.

I looked at her through the rain, trying to find even the slightest bit of heartache or guilt in her eyes.

There was nothing there.

Only impatience.

"I'm utterly disgraced." I heard my own voice, hoarse like sandpaper scraping, "An industry blackout, my future is ruined. Vivian, are you satisfied now?"

She frowned, seemingly annoyed by my "affectation".

"Arthur, don't look at me like that."

She sighed, her tone as if she were coaxing a child who didn't understand.

“You are capable and smart enough. Even if you fall down now, you will be able to get back up sooner or later. But Julian is different. He is as fragile as crystal. If he goes in, his life will be completely ruined.”

She took a sip of coffee, her tone so calm it was almost cruel.

"You're so strong, isn't it only right that you take on more responsibility?"

Take on more responsibility.

I looked at my empty left ring finger.

The ring was gone, leaving only a pale, bloodstained mark from the violent stripping of the ring.

Seven years of dedication.

Countless compromises and concessions.

A drinking party where you risk your life.

And my mother's last belongings.

Everything was rendered worthless by that flippant remark, "You are so powerful."

Extreme exhaustion crept up from the very marrow of my bones, instantly draining all my strength.

My urge to even utter a word of explanation or question has completely died.

"good."

I didn't get on the bus.

He turned around, dragging his body, which seemed about to fall apart at any moment, and limped into the wind and rain of London.

Behind me, the sound of a Bentley's engine rose and faded into the distance.

She left.

They couldn't catch up.

They didn't even say "take care".