Chapter Three

Back in that empty, tomb-like villa, I locked myself in the study at the far end of the second floor.

It was perpetually dark, the heavy blackout curtains keeping all life out. I didn't turn on the main light, but simply pressed a hidden switch under the desk.

With a soft mechanical hum, the bookshelves slid open, revealing a state-of-the-art trading workstation hidden behind three curved screens. For five years, this machine had been dormant, just like Arthur Herman, who was utterly invisible in this house, no longer even buying a decent suit.

I sat in the swivel chair, the cold, bluish light emanating from the screens casting a shadow on my bloodless face.

In this house, Eleanor always felt she was the queen, in control, while I was just a useless coward who had retired early out of greed for comfort, only good for the kitchen and my sickbed. She arrogantly tossed me a bunch of "long, tedious, and irrelevant" private account holding rights, convinced that a wolf with its teeth pulled couldn't understand the complex capital operations of conglomerates.

But she forgot that five years ago, I was the one known as the "bloodthirsty liquidator" on Wall Street.

My long fingers hovered over the mechanical keyboard, then began typing at breakneck speed, like playing a death knell.

I didn't care about that handout of five million dollars; if she wanted, Eleanor could take all my share of the marital assets. But just half an hour ago, out of professional instinct, I traced the route of that five million "hush money" transfer.

The investigation, however, was like pouring boiling lava onto my heart, which had just been tempered in hell.

On the screen, the complex flow of funds ultimately converged on a secret offshore trust account called "Manhattan Children's Medical Care."

That was the medical fund I personally set up for Lily when she was one year old, using the first pot of gold I'd earned from trading gold. This money was originally intended to ensure Lily had access to the world's top rehabilitation resources after she woke up! It was her father's life-saving money for her!

But now, the bottom line of this account is being frantically drained.

I looked at the shocking expense details:

"VIP suite at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, $8,000 per day."

"Swiss imported anti-rejection targeted therapy, $120,000 per course of treatment."

"Top-tier private post-operative nutritionist team, Michelin-starred chef's special meals..."

All the funds flowed to, and the ultimate beneficiary's name was clearly listed—Julian Hughes.

"Bang!"

I slammed my fist hard on the solid wood table, my knuckles instantly breaking and bleeding, but I felt no pain.

Eleanor, you woman, worse than an animal.

Not only did you order the doctor to kill my daughter and rip out her healthy heart to save your lover, but now you're using my daughter's life-saving money to pay exorbitant nursing fees for the devil who killed her, allowing him to live a life of luxury in a lavish hospital room?!

Every bite of the finest caviar fed to Julian, every drop of expensive medicine flowing into his veins, is stained with my daughter's blood!

Unforgivable. Absolutely unforgivable.

I can give up everything, but I will never allow a single penny of Lily's money to flow into that vampire's pocket. I will drain all the blood Eleanor cares about, I will make her taste what it feels like to be devoured by the very capital she trusts most, leaving not even bones behind.

I took a deep breath and casually wiped the bloodstains on my damp gray cardigan. My eyes were fixed on the screen, and the financial tycoon who once struck fear into Wall Street finally opened his vertical pupils, gleaming with a cold light, in the darkness.

"Hacking into the Orbis Group's private master account, unauthorized access request."

I muttered to myself, my fingertips blurring across the keyboard.

Eleanor made the fatal mistake all megalomaniacs make—she underestimated me. She assumed I was naive and, for convenience, mirrored her master account with several of my nominee accounts, requiring only a password-free gateway for redirection. To me, this defense was as flimsy as paper.

Ten minutes later, Eleanor's secret vault was completely open to me.

...

At the same time, in the VIP suite on the top floor of Manhattan Presbyterian Hospital, it was warm and cozy.

The air lacked the pungent smell of disinfectant; instead, it was filled with specially blended cedarwood aromatherapy. Julian, dressed in silk pajamas, leaned back against custom-made soft cushions. This so-called "patient in the severe rejection phase" had a rosy complexion and was comfortably watching the 100-inch television on the wall.

Eleanor sat beside him, her hand adorned with a multi-million dollar diamond ring, peeling open a Japanese Shine Muscat grape that had been flown in from abroad, and gently feeding it to Julian.

"Darling, are you sure it's okay if we don't go to the conglomerate meeting tomorrow? You've been here with me for days already." Julian chewed the sweet fruit, feigning concern, but his hands were restlessly caressing Eleanor's waist.

“A bunch of idiots who only know how to look at financial statements, none of them are as important as you.” Eleanor sneered, nonchalantly pulling out a wet wipe to clean her hands. “As long as your heart… as long as your body can recover smoothly, that’s more important than anything else. Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll arrange for the Orbis Group to fully acquire that top private medical institution on the West Coast. Then, you’ll be parachuted in as the executive director, and no one will dare to laugh at your background anymore.”

“Eleanor, you’re too good to me. But…” Julian deliberately sighed, his eyes flickering, “But what about Arthur? Lily just had her funeral, and you haven’t been home to be with him. He’ll definitely make a scene. What if he ruins your reputation…”

Hearing the names “Arthur” and “Lily,” a trace of extreme annoyance flashed across Eleanor’s originally gentle face.

“Don’t mention that useless man to me. He always has this gloomy face, like everyone owes him something.” Eleanor rubbed her temples in frustration. “The child’s death was an accident. Doesn’t it hurt me as a mother? Does he have to force me to go to the cemetery and suffer in the rain before he’s satisfied? He has no sense of the bigger picture.”

She glanced at her phone’s calendar and snorted coldly. “This weekend is our so-called tenth wedding anniversary. Doesn’t he want a home? Doesn’t he want to live a life revolving around the child?”

“What do you plan to do?” A hint of wariness flashed in Julian’s eyes.

“There are still five top-quality embryos frozen at that top fertility center in Manhattan, the ones he and I kept as a precaution,” Eleanor said casually, as if discussing what steak to have for dinner. “Once I’m done with you, I’ll take pity on everyone at this weekend’s anniversary party and announce our ‘second-child plan’ of reimplanting the embryos.”

A condescending smirk played on her lips. “Just give him a new child, and his attention will be completely diverted. Just feed him a little something, and he’ll be a dutiful dog forever, obediently guarding that cold, empty house for me.”

“You’re so smart, darling,” Julian smiled with relief, leaning down to kiss Eleanor’s cheek, feeling the young, strong, and vibrant heart within his chest, a greedy gleam in his eyes.

In this warm, yet illusory and betraying hospital room, they were envisioning a beautiful future built on the bones of a little girl, completely unaware that the sword of Damocles was already hanging over their heads.

…

“Tick-tock.”

The screen displayed the notification that the final firewall had been successfully breached.

In the study of the villa, a cold, razor-sharp smile curled at the corner of my lips. The prey lay perfectly intact on my cutting board.

Now, it was time to strip it away.

I didn't transfer the funds directly; that would immediately trigger the conglomerate's macroeconomic alarm. I used the “Honeycomb Splitting Algorithm” I had previously developed—instantly transforming the massive flow of funds into tens of thousands of fragmented transactions, investing them in global foreign exchange hedging pools.

“First transaction: all available liquid cash in the joint marital account, totaling 26 million US dollars.”

I pressed Enter, and these funds were instantly laundered clean through twelve shell companies in the Cayman Islands, ultimately flowing into the anonymous dead account I had set up in a Swiss bank years ago.

“Second transaction: 80 million US dollars in bridge financing that the Orbis conglomerate was preparing to use to acquire a private medical institution on the West Coast.”

This was the money Eleanor had prepared to pave the way for Julian. I looked at this enormous figure, my eyes as cold as a block of ice. Using Eleanor's forgotten highest-level holding authority, I directly modified the underlying logic of the smart contract, permanently freezing the money in a third-party guarantee pool that could never be settled. Without three to five years of transnational legal battles, this money would be worthless.

I wanted to turn that so-called executive director's dream into a piece of rotten wood hanging on the edge of a cliff.

"The third transaction..."

My hand trembled slightly, my gaze fixed on the "Manhattan Children's Medical Care" trust. That was my Lily's life-saving money.

Without hesitation, I initiated the forced liquidation process. Those underlying accounts that were paying Julian's exorbitant bills were all severed, destroyed, and cancelled, one by one!

Starting tomorrow, the high-class wards and expensive medications used by that vampire would immediately face catastrophic unpaid bills and shutdowns.

After each transfer or freeze, a small note box would pop up in the system.

That was the standard bank transfer message. For this level of money laundering, leaving it blank is actually the best cover. But I chose not to.

In the remarks column of every drained, transferred, and frozen fund, I stubbornly typed four numbers over and over again:

【0526】

【0526】

【0526】

That was Lily's birthday.

I wanted these numbers to infiltrate every inch of Eleanor's proud capitalist empire like a virus. When the truth came out, when she looked at the bills of her collapsing empire in despair, I wanted her to see these four words all over her screen.

This was the lament of half a million transfers.

This was a father, in the coldest, cruelest way, leaving his daughter with an unforgettable mark in this dirty world.

An hour later.

All account balances were simultaneously cleared to zero, and the red "$0.00" flashed on three screens at the same time, making my face look like a ghost.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh. It was so satisfying to unplug all the life support for a behemoth.

“Eleanor, I’ve drained your blood.”

I looked out at the dark night, my voice low and hoarse.

“But that’s not enough. Tomorrow, New York will have its first beautiful snowfall. I will personally shatter all your disgusting fantasies about the future.”

“No one can replace my Lily.”