On Lily’s fifth birthday, Brandon sent her the LEGO castle she’d been dreaming of. The very next day, Lily cried and asked me, “Mommy, where did the princess from my castle go?” I turned to Brandon Miller. He casually snuffed out his cigarette, his tone flat. “She probably lost it herself. I’ll just buy her another one.” But an hour later, I scrolled through Chloe Smith’s Instagram–the company’s top sales performer. She’d clipped that limited-edition princess figurine to her car keys, with a caption: 【My Mr. B.M. says I’m his runaway princess, and even the castle’s owner has to make way for me.】 B.M. was the abbreviation of my husband’s name. I didn’t make a scene. I simply commented under her post: “So beautiful. Too bad it’s a limited edition, you can’t buy it anymore.” Lily cried herself to sleep, and I carried her back to her room. In her tiny hand, she still clutched the castle flag, barren of its princess. After tucking her in, I walked into my study. Chloe Smith’s Instagram ID was【Chloe, The Knight’s Princess】. I scrolled back through her profile, inch by agonizing inch. The car key in that picture was a Bentley. I switched to the company’s internal system. Two months ago, a procurement order for over three million dollars had been approved by none other than Brandon. The listed purpose was “High-End Client Hospitality Vehicle.” I pulled up the car’s usage records. The backend data showed it had never hosted a single client. Every trip pointed to Brandon’s private apartment, and the street below Chloe Smith’s building. I took a deep breath and continued to browse Chloe Smith’s profile. 【My new bag. Mr. B.M. says it perfectly suits my style.】 The photo showed the latest Hermès model, with the floor-to-ceiling windows of our marital home in the background. That day, Brandon had told me he was meeting an important investor. 【Staying up all night for his meeting, I’m exhausted. Good thing he made me some nourishing, special broth himself.】 The picture was a selfie of her wearing a face mask. The sofa in the background was an Italian import brand I had personally chosen. That day, Lily had a high fever. I called him, and he said he was out of town on a business trip and couldn’t come back. So, his “important investor,” his “business trip out of town,” it was all just her. I stared at the screen, my heart growing colder by the second. The study door creaked open. Brandon walked in, smelling of a shower and carrying an air of fatigue. He glanced at Lily, sleeping soundly in her bed, and his brows furrowed slightly. “That child is really spoiled rotten by you. It’s just a plastic figurine, isn’t it? Does she really need to cry like this?” I looked up, silently meeting his gaze. This was the man who, in a leaky rented apartment, had once vowed to build our daughter a real castle. Brandon walked over, instinctively reaching to put his arm around my shoulder, but I subtly shifted my body, avoiding his touch. I said flatly, “Yes, just a piece of cheap plastic. Worthless.” “Might as well throw it away.” Brandon visibly relaxed. “That’s the best way to think about it. Go to bed early, we have a meeting tomorrow.” He turned and walked into the bedroom, without another glance at Lily. I watched his retreating back, then slowly pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk. Inside were the latest group equity documents, detailing the capital I held as the largest individual shareholder. Brandon, since you want to lose this family so badly. Then I’ll make sure you lose the very ground you stand on in this city.
The next day, I arrived at the company promptly. Passing the CEO’s office, I saw Brandon leisurely sipping coffee through the frosted glass. I didn’t stop, heading straight for the finance department. “Good morning, Ms. Miller.” The Finance Director immediately stood up when she saw me. “Pull up all original contracts from the sales department for the past three months, along with their corresponding transaction records.” My voice was ice-cold. “All of them?” Ms. Davis seemed surprised but complied immediately. Half an hour later, mountains of documents were delivered to my office. I asked my assistant, Sarah, to brew the strongest black coffee, closed the door, and began to scrutinize each one. Chloe Smith, as the “sales champion” for two consecutive quarters, her performance data was suspiciously perfect. I pulled out all her contracts. Soon, I found the problem. Three of her largest clients accounted for seventy percent of her total performance. And all three companies were registered in the Cayman Islands. The contract terms were absurdly lenient, with almost no binding power. The upfront payment ratio was as low as 5%, but the collection period stretched to a year. Even the breach-of-contract clauses were vague and ambiguous. This wasn’t doing business; this was a classic case of illicit fund transfers. Brandon was using company money to plug the hole left by Chloe Smith’s brother’s failed overseas investments. Then, through fake trade, he laundered this money, turning it into Chloe Smith’s seemingly legitimate sales commissions. What a sophisticated scheme. I picked up the internal phone: “Send out a notice. The entire sales department is to conduct a quarterly compliance self-audit.” Hanging up, I took Sarah and walked directly to the sales department. Chloe Smith was sitting at her most prominent workstation, touching up her lipstick in a small mirror. The Bentley car key, with the limited-edition princess LEGO dangling from it, was carelessly tossed on her desk, as if she was afraid no one would see it. Several young sales assistants were gathered around her, calling her “Chloe.” “Chloe, your keychain is so unique, limited edition, right?” “Of course, that’s called taste, not everyone understands it.” She looked smug, basking in being the center of attention. When I walked in, everyone immediately fell silent and stood up. Only she remained firmly seated, not even changing her posture. She even deliberately raised her hand, picked up the car keys, and twirled them carelessly between her fingers. Her eyes held blatant provocation. The air instantly solidified. Everyone held their breath, feeling the silent, tense atmosphere. Chloe Smith spoke first. “Ms. Miller, here to inspect our work?” She dangled the keys. “This little thing, isn’t it cute? It’s a limited edition, you know.” “Only those who truly appreciate its value deserve to own it.” A faint curve appeared on my lips, but the smile didn’t reach my eyes. “Taste?” I spoke slowly, my voice clear and cold. “Only someone so small-minded would consider a piece of industrial plastic, costing mere dollars, a rare treasure to flaunt everywhere.” “It seems Supervisor Smith’s aspirations extend no further than that.” Her face instantly turned pale. I took two steps forward, stopping in front of her, looking down. “As for deserving it or not…” I leaned in slightly, whispering into her ear, “You picked up my discarded trash, and instead of being ashamed, you wear it like a badge of honor.” “Since you love it so much, it’s yours.” “After all, trash belongs in the trash can.” She tried to say something else, but I straightened up and walked directly to the bulletin board. Slap. I pinned the freshly printed notice right in the middle of the board. “Everyone, take a good look, and think about whether the contracts in your hands can withstand scrutiny.” Chloe stared at the notice, a flicker of panic in her eyes. Then she composed herself, a defiant confidence settling over her. I returned to my office and immediately called the Legal Director, Mr. Johnson. “Initiate a top-tier investigation procedure. Contact our partnered external audit team.” “Remember, keep it confidential.” My phone vibrated. It was a SnapChat message from Brandon: “Honey, what are you doing? Are you okay?” I stared at the words on the screen and typed a reply. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m preparing a gift for you.”
That evening, when I opened the door to our house, I was greeted by the scent of roses. Brandon, wearing an apron, carried the last dish from the kitchen, a wide smile on his face. “Honey, you’re back? Come wash up and eat, tonight it’s all your favorite dishes.” The scene felt like a lifetime ago. The last time he cooked for me was when we first moved into this house. He said he wanted me to always be the happiest princess in this home. Now, it felt like a bitter irony. Lily had already been tucked into bed by the nanny. At the dining table, candlelight flickered, and red wine offered a soft glow. Brandon constantly served me food, showering me with sweet words. “Honey, I heard about what happened today. Chloe was out of line, but don’t let her bother you. I’ve already reprimanded her.” “You’ve worked so hard for the company, you must be exhausted.” I sneered inwardly, but my face remained impassive as I quietly ate my dinner. After a few rounds of drinks, he finally cut to the chase. “Honey, about our house… should we sell it?” Here it comes. I put down my forks and looked at him. He immediately explained: “Don’t misunderstand! I just think this house is a bit far from the elementary school Lily will attend. We could get a spacious apartment in a better school district, as… compensation for you and Lily.” His reasons were high-sounding and seemingly sincere. If I hadn’t just seen those illicit transaction records, I might have been moved for a moment. Chloe’s idiotic brother had suffered a margin call in his overseas cryptocurrency investments, losing a staggering thirty million dollars. Brandon’s embezzlement of company funds was a mere drop in the bucket. He desperately needed a massive cash flow to fill this bottomless pit. And our house, bought outright before our marriage and now appreciated almost fivefold, was his last resort. I looked into his hopeful eyes, a churning, sickening feeling rising in my stomach. I watched him silently for a few seconds. Then, my eyes slowly reddened. “Brandon…” My voice carried a hint of a tremor and feigned emotion. “I thought… you no longer cared about Lily and me.” “You’re finally considering our daughter’s future.” Brandon sighed, a look of faux regret on his face. “How could you think that? You and Lily are all I want to protect.” He pulled a pre-prepared “Letter of Intent to Sell” from his briefcase. “Honey, look, I’ve already found a buyer. The price is a bit lower than market value, but the advantage is a quick sale, and we can move into our new home sooner.” I took the letter of intent. The buyer’s name was unfamiliar, but I knew the company listed below it very well. It was one of the domestic affiliates of those three overseas shell companies. He was trying to use a shady internal transfer, a left-hand-to-right-hand scheme, to quickly convert this marital asset into cash he could freely control. To cash out, he was even willing to sell for twenty percent below market price. He truly… was insane. “Nicole, sign it.” Brandon pressed the pen into my hand. “For our daughter, for our future mansion.” I let him hold my hand, leaning into his embrace, and pleaded coquettishly with a tearful voice. “Brandon, you’re so good to me… I’ll sign, of course I’ll sign.” “But…” I abruptly changed my tone. “Brandon, I heard from finance that property transaction taxes are very high right now. This direct transaction might not be very cost-effective for us.” I looked up. “Let’s sign a supplementary agreement to do some tax planning; we could save millions.” As I spoke, I pulled another document from my bag. The document was filled with complex financial jargon and regulatory clauses, enough to make any layman dizzy. But at its core, there was only one condition: The sale proceeds must be deposited into a joint escrow account I designated, and he would bear unlimited joint liability. Brandon’s mind was fixated on the thirty million dollars he was about to get; he wouldn’t bother to scrutinize these unintelligible terms. He quickly flipped through a couple of pages, and seeing my sincere expression, he didn’t suspect a thing. “My wife always thinks of everything!” He picked up the pen and, with a grand flourish, signed his name at the end of the supplementary agreement. That night, Brandon was so excited he barely slept. He stood on the balcony, speaking in hushed tones, calling Chloe over and over again on his phone. “Baby, she signed it!” “Soon, we’ll have the money! You won’t have to suffer anymore!” “Once this money hits my account, I’ll split with her amicably.” I lay in bed, quietly listening to the dirty sweet nothings drifting in from the balcony. My heart sneered.
Monday, Group Senior Management Strategy Meeting. Halfway through the agenda, it was my turn to speak as CFO. I stood up, surveying the executives in the conference room. Then, I dropped a bombshell. “I propose that the Group officially initiate preparations for an IPO.” As soon as I finished speaking, the entire room erupted. “To incentivize core team members who make outstanding contributions during the IPO preparation process, I, personally, am willing to allocate 5% of my original shares as an equity incentive pool.” This time, even the seasoned executives in the room, those old foxes who had weathered many storms, gasped sharply. These weren’t stock options; these were genuine, hard-cash original shares! Once the company successfully went public, these 5% of shares would be worth at least nine figures. I deliberately turned my gaze to Brandon, my voice gentle and sincere. “Brandon, the company wouldn’t be where it is today without your invaluable contributions. But going public is a tough battle, and we need our most competitive employees leading the charge.” “Therefore, these shares must be awarded to the individual or team with the greatest overall contribution this year.” Brandon instantly grasped my “deeper meaning.” He slammed his hand on the table, declaring, “I fully support Ms.Miller’s proposal! This demonstrates our company’s open and inclusive culture! We must attract talent without sticking to conventions!” He even added, with a veiled implication, “Supervisor Chloe Smith of the sales department, her performance this year is clear for all to see, and she is a role model for all our employees!” In the conference room, several informed senior shareholders looked at me with complex expressions. After the meeting, Brandon, almost impatiently, called Chloe into his office. On my office computer, hidden surveillance footage clearly showed everything. The moment the door closed, Chloe excitedly lunged into Brandon’s arms. The two of them passionately kissed by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, oblivious to the world. “Baby! Did you hear that? 5% of the shares! Once we get them, we’re getting married!” “Brandon, you’re amazing! I knew you were the best!” Chloe even excitedly pulled out her phone, opened the calculator, and started tapping away, calculating how many millions 5% of the shares would be worth at different market capitalizations. Her money-obsessed appearance was both laughable and pathetic. They probably forgot. Any company initiating an IPO must undergo the most rigorous and comprehensive due diligence and financial audit. And I had brought in the nation’s top third-party audit team, with the lead auditor being my best friend from college. The Group held its equity incentive conference at the city’s seven-star hotel. Below the stage sat all company employees, important investor representatives, and journalists from over a dozen mainstream financial media outlets. Brandon, resplendent in a bespoke suit, stood on the center of the stage, looking radiant. He held the microphone, his voice filled with magnetic charm and feigned emotion. “Today, we are not only embarking on a new chapter for our Group, but also honoring a hero who has made immense contributions to our company.” “With her talent and hard work, she has created unprecedented miracles in the sales department!” “I announce that the recipient of this year’s Special Contribution Incentive Shares is – Sales Department Director, Ms. Chloe Smith!” As his words fell, a spotlight instantly shone on one side of the stage. Chloe Smith, wearing a white gown that resembled a wedding dress, slowly walked onto the stage. As she reached Brandon’s side, she even gave him a shy, loving glance. Brandon picked up a large crystal display board symbolizing the 5% shares, preparing to personally hand it to her. Below the stage, flashbulbs flickered wildly. And I, watching the ‘perfect couple’ on stage, gently pressed a button in my hand. The PPT, which had been showcasing the Group’s glorious achievements, suddenly flickered. It was replaced by a high-definition screen recording video from a phone. The video played automatically, revealing Chloe’s Instagram profile. I smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Smith, for your immense special contributions to my husband.”
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