Chapter 4

Over the next week, I became two different people.

By day, I was Lucas the broken man.

I told Vanessa I was done, that I couldn't beat them.

I didn't want the company anymore. As long as she gave me fifty thousand, I'd agree to the divorce and walk away with nothing.

Seeing me like that, the contempt and disgust in Vanessa's eyes were undisguised.

"See? Why couldn't you have just been this smart about it from the start?"

She looked down at me as she tossed me a bone. "Fifty thousand is way too much. Twenty is the most I'll give you. You're a grown man with working limbs, right? Can you starve?"

"Fine. Twenty it is." I hung my head, my voice hoarse, as if I was completely crushed.

She was very satisfied with my "cooperation" and transferred the money to me on the spot, right from her phone.

Then, she started pushing me to finalize the divorce ASAP, her words brimming with excitement for her new life and disgust for me.

I took it all in, playing the part of the total loser.

But by night, I became someone else entirely.

While Vanessa slept, or more often stayed out all night, the lamp in my study burned until dawn.

I didn't try cracking the password to her finance software again. That was too clumsy.

I'm a programmer. I would use my own methods to take back everything that was mine.

The faked bank records and gambling debt Brandon mentioned on the phone... those were my entry points.

I logged into the admin panel of our home Wi-Fi router. The password was still the factory default. They never even imagined I would start there.

I wrote a script and began silently capturing every data packet passing through that router.

For my hundred thousand, for my company, for my trampled dignity... I was willing to take the risk.

The data stream cascaded down my screen like a waterfall.

Vast, chaotic information.

I wrote a second script to filter and sort it all out.

For three full nights, I wrestled with that cold, hard data.

Then, finally, at 4 a.m. on Thursday, my script triggered an alert.

It had captured an outgoing email data packet sent from Vanessa's phone to an encrypted email account.

I was able to fully reconstruct the email's contents.

It was a backup of a chat log from a relatively obscure social media app.

Vanessa: "Baby, that idiot Lucas agreed to the divorce. He'll scram for just twenty thousand. LMAO."

Brandon: "Atta girl. Once the divorce papers are signed, we drain whatever's left in the company account and go on a nice, long trip around Europe."

Vanessa: "What about the company's books? Will the fake bank records and IOUs hold up?"

Brandon: "What's there to worry about? Your signature is on the IOUs, and the money trail went through your personal account. Even if someone checks, it won't lead to me. Besides, we have a 'legal' share transfer now. Lucas already surrendered. He won't dig any deeper."

Vanessa: "You're so smart. By the way, did you really pay off all two hundred grand you lost in Vegas? I don't want to see those loan sharks again."

Brandon: "Relax, baby. There's no greater thrill than using your hubby's company money to pay off my gambling debts, is there?"

Vanessa: "You're impossible!"

What followed was more disgusting flirting and planning for their future.

Staring at those words, I didn't feel rage. I felt a bone-chilling cold.

So, I wasn't just an ATM. I was their "money launderer" to clean up their gambling debts.

I packaged the complete chat log, along with all the metadata like IP addresses, timestamps, and device info, into an encrypted file.

The evidence was already more than enough.

But that wasn't enough for me.

I wanted them to be destroyed—so completely they could never get back up.

On Friday, Vanessa came home, beaming, with the printed divorce agreement.

"Lucas, just sign it. Once you do, you're free." She handed me a pen as if she was shooing away a beggar.

I took the pen and looked up at her.

"Vanessa," I said quietly.

"What? Getting cold feet?" she looked at me warily.

"Nothing." I smiled, a smile probably uglier than a grimace. "Just wondering, what were our eight years together even worth?"

"My horrible luck, wasting my youth on a dog!" she shot back viciously.

"Right." I nodded, and picked up the pen—but not to sign the divorce papers.

I wrote a single line on a blank sheet of paper.

Then, I pushed it across the table toward her.

The note read: "Did Brandon use 'Lynn & Lucas Tech' money to pay off his gambling debts at the Bellagio?"

All the color drained from Vanessa's face in an instant.