Chapter 3

Mr. Sterling flipped through the audit report, his expression gradually darkening.

"This firm’s net profits over three years total nearly twenty million dollars," Ethan said. "Chad personally siphoned out roughly eight million under the guise of 'operational expenses.' Where did that money actually go? It’s all highlighted in red in that report."

"Where did it go?"

"Around two million into his ex-girlfriend’s account. Three million into his parents’ accounts. And the remaining three million was funneled into a private wealth fund under Chad’s name—with your daughter listed as the sole beneficiary."

Mr. Sterling closed the folder with a snap. "Ethan, what are you getting at?"

"What I’m saying, Uncle Arthur, is that the man your daughter is about to marry siphoned eight million dollars from an entity with an external shareholder. That fund includes the dividend rights corresponding to my girlfriend Chloe’s thirty percent equity—roughly $2.4 million."

"So you’re here to shake me down for cash?"

"I’m here to offer you a friendly warning." Ethan produced the Westside development contract. "I can cede the Westside parcel to the Sterling Group. The condition has nothing to do with real estate, but with one single matter. Postpone tomorrow’s wedding."

Mr. Sterling stared at him for half a minute.

"Ethan, do you have any idea how many high-profile guests are invited tomorrow? Do you know what the Sterling family’s reputation means in this town—"

"Uncle Arthur, do you honestly think tomorrow's wedding can proceed once Chloe submits this audit report to the federal court?" Ethan smiled faintly. "Rather than letting the elite watch a circus before packing up, postponing it voluntarily preserves your dignity."

The air in the boardroom froze for three full minutes.

Finally, Mr. Sterling stood up. "Tomorrow's wedding is postponed for one month."

Reaching the door, he looked back at me. "You’re Chloe Rivers?"

"Yes, Mr. Sterling."

He scrutinized me for two seconds. "Chad Brooks is a blind fool."

With that, he turned and left.

By that afternoon, news of the wedding postponement rippled through high society.

Chad called me over thirty times. I didn't answer a single one.

Hundreds of SnapChat messages flooded in, shifting from "Chloe, what the hell did you do?" to "You bitch, I will ruin you," and finally to "Please pick up, let's talk this through."

His last message read: "Chloe, I don't want the $500,000 anymore. Just tell Ethan to call it off, okay? I was supposed to get married tomorrow. You humiliated me in front of the entire city. Are you happy now?"

I texted back: "Chad, three years ago when you moved that capital into the company account, you typed that transfer memo yourself. You wrote the word 'Investment' with your own hands. Anything I’ve ever lost, I either let it burn or I take it back with interest. Dropping your fake invoice isn't nearly enough."

"What more do you want?!"

"I told you. One million."

Chad didn't reply.

At ten that night, I received a text from an unknown number.

"Hello, Miss Rivers. This is Gia Sterling. Tomorrow at 3:00 PM, I’ll be waiting at the rooftop café on 5th Avenue. There are some things regarding Chad that I’d like to discuss in person."

I screenshotted the text and sent it to Ethan.

Ethan replied: "Go. I’ll have Attorney Miller sit at the table next to you."

At three the next afternoon, when I walked into the café, Gia was already seated.

She wore a sharp Chanel suit with immaculate makeup. Two cups sat on her table, one already half-empty.

"Sit," she said, tilting her chin up.