My husband’s ex-girlfriend, Candace, had illegally operated in financial trades, causing my clients colossal losses. In their fury, they brutally mangled my hands, leaving me permanently disabled. I was rushed to the hospital. In my last hazy moments of consciousness, I heard Julian, my husband, whisper to the doctor: “Just save her life. As for her hands… they’d be better off useless.” The doctor, confused, replied: “But Ms. Scarlett’s hands can still be saved!” Julian’s voice was cold, like it had been dipped in ice: “Only if her hands are ruined will she completely exit the trading market. That way, Candace can finally become Chief Analyst this year.” “Once the storm passes, I’ll spend my entire life making it up to her.” “Isn’t being Mrs. Julian more valuable than a mere analyst’s career?” The anesthetic flowed into my veins, and my world plunged into darkness. So, all his tenderness and consideration these past years were just to pave the way for his first love. It’s just a Chief Analyst position. Candace wants it? She can have it. Julian? He can have her too. All of it. I want none of it.
After my wounds were stitched, Julian and his assistant didn’t leave. His assistant whispered, “Mr. Julian, Scarlett’s hands are ruined. She can’t possibly threaten Candace’s position anymore. Do you really need to let those reporters in to take more photos?” Julian’s eyes were chillingly cold: “Of course I know that, but I won’t gamble with Candace’s future. Only by completely destroying her reputation can I truly be at peace!” “Once she’s Mrs. Julian, I’ll naturally make sure these scandals disappear.” The hospital room door swung open, and several reporters with cameras surged in. I curled up on the bed in terror. The blinding flashbulbs, the acrid smoke, the cloying perfume—it all merged into a suffocating assault. Even the sterile cold of the VIP room made me want to gag. “She seems to be waking up? Should we give her another sedative?” Ben, the assistant, hesitated: “The dosage is already beyond the limit. Another injection could be life-threatening.” Julian commanded coldly: “Do it! I’ll take responsibility if anything happens!” “But…” Ben still hesitated, but Julian snatched the syringe and, without a moment’s pause, pushed the liquid into my vein. I forced my eyes open, seeing the cold indifference in his gaze, utterly devoid of warmth. Tears silently streamed down, and I plunged into darkness once more. When I next awoke, it was two days later. Julian stood outside the room, on the phone, his voice clearly audible – “Pay more. Make those photos go viral, keep the buzz alive until Candace secures that Chief Analyst position.” For Candace, he was truly sparing no effort. The Julian before me was a stranger, terrifying. I didn’t dare open my eyes, pretending to still be asleep. My heart felt like it was being ripped apart, the pain almost suffocating me. I had loved him without reservation, yet he had personally pushed me into this abyss. I actually, foolishly, believed he truly cared for me when he frantically carried me into the ER that day. But it was all his meticulously crafted design! After that hospital door closed, it wasn’t salvation waiting for me, but hell itself! I used to command the financial markets, a master strategist. Yet, in the end, I was undone by the very person I trusted most. It’s just a Chief Analyst position. Candace wants it? She can have it. And that position, and Julian – I want none of it! From now on, I will never appear in his world again!
When I woke up, Julian threw the photos that had gone absolutely viral onto my bed. He feigned a look of deep pain: “Scarlett, I know this must be a misunderstanding.” “Don’t worry, I’ve already got my PR team working on it. Soon, these photos will be wiped from the internet entirely.” In the photos, my face was clearly visible, my clothes disheveled, surrounded by several unfamiliar men. The background was a private room in a high-end club. The headline blared: “Female Investment Banker Allegedly Sleeps Her Way Up, Financial Industry’s Dark Side Exposed.” “Those who hurt you, I’ve already sent them all to prison.” Julian picked up his phone. “But the negative publicity has already affected the company’s reputation, and with your hands unable to do high-frequency trading anymore…” “Forget Chief Analyst, the company can’t even hold onto your position.” “Candace, bless her soft heart, fought tooth and nail to secure this opportunity for you.” Steal my position, ruin my reputation—is *that* what she calls a “soft heart”? “The company’s decided to use your case as internal training material, a cautionary tale for all new hires.” My voice trembled: “So… you agreed to this?” Julian shook his head: “I don’t think that’s impactful enough.” “Candace suggested you share your ‘lessons learned’ at the morning meetings every day.” “It might be humiliating at first, but when you see new hires avoid making your mistakes because of you, you’ll feel… gratified.” My vision blurred; I could barely see Julian in front of me. How did we become like this? It feels like just yesterday, when we first started dating, he’d get jealous if I had one too many drinks with a client. He’d always step in front of me if a male client got too close. Five years. We clawed our way up from entry-level traders, supporting each other every step of the way, finally carving out a place for ourselves in this cutthroat financial world. Now, just because Candace suggested it, he arranged for my humiliating photos to be taken, and wants me to publicly rip open my own wounds? “Julian, what did I do wrong?” Tears streamed down my face. “I absolutely refuse this arrangement. We’re over!” I struggled to get up, but a searing pain shot through my right wrist. Julian said impatiently: “Don’t be ridiculous! Candace stayed up all night to come up with this plan. Is this how you repay us?” Just then, Candace, in her ten-centimeter Jimmy Choo heels, pushed the door open. The scent of Chanel No. 5 instantly filled the entire space. Seeing my disheveled state, she curled her red lips in a triumphant smile: “Julian, what’s going on here?” Julian sneered: “Still thinks she’s a star trader, offended that the opportunity we’re giving her isn’t ‘dignified’ enough.” Candace sighed, feigning sympathy: “Scarlett, you’re practically useless now. What firm would trust their capital to a trader who can’t even type?” “Besides…” She shook her phone. “Now the entire internet is flooded with your scandalous photos. The financial world absolutely despises this kind of scandal.” I let out a cold laugh: “Since you think it’s so great, why don’t *you* become the cautionary tale? After all, you want to snatch everything, so take this opportunity too.” “Especially since…” I stared at her meticulously manicured nails, “this idea was *yours*. You’d be able to ’empathize’ with the experience even more, wouldn’t you?”
“Scarlett!” Julian’s furious voice exploded through the empty office. He grabbed my collar, slamming me hard against the wall. His right hand flew up, a sharp whistle of air preceding the brutal slap across my face. *SMACK!* The crisp sound of the slap was excruciatingly loud in the silent office. I stumbled back a few steps, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. “Are you out of your damn mind?! Did losing your right hand make you lose your brain too?! I never knew you were so malicious!” Julian’s eyes were bloodshot, veins throbbing at his temples, all traces of his usual composed financial elite persona gone. I slowly wiped the blood from my mouth, a cold laugh escaping my lips: “Malicious? Who really took those pictures anyway, and—” “Shut up!” Julian roughly cut me off. “Candace has been looking out for you every step of the way! Do you know how much those photos cost the company? Clients withdrawing funds, stock prices plummeting – the board wants to know who’s responsible! If you hadn’t willingly stooped to visiting places like that, those photos never would have gotten out!” I stared directly into his eyes: “Julian, can you look me in the eye and say *I* had those photos taken?” His gaze visibly flickered, his Adam’s apple bobbed uncomfortably. But quickly, that handsome face reverted to its usual cold ruthlessness. “Don’t play innocent here!” He yanked open a drawer, pulling out a stack of papers and flinging them at me. “Look at your employment contract’s supplementary clause! Any employee’s personal actions that damage the company’s reputation will result in a twenty-million-dollar fine!” Papers scattered across the floor, my signature emblazoned on the top sheet. I bent to pick up the contract, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. So, from the very first day we started dating, he had been planning this all along. Not only did he make me sign this exorbitant penalty clause, but he also transferred all my savings away under the guise of “joint investments.” He had calculated, precisely, that I couldn’t afford to pay, which is why he dared to push me so ruthlessly. “You must publicly review your actions at tomorrow morning’s meeting, so the entire company can learn from your mistakes.” Julian adjusted his tie, his tone suddenly softening: “Scarlett, please don’t make this difficult for me.” That familiar “Scarlett” sent a sharp pang twisting in my stomach. Once, he always called me that late at night after we worked overtime, and then, as if by magic, pull out my favorite Tiramisu from his briefcase. “Don’t worry, Mr. Julian.” I fought back tears, straightening my back. “I’ll… perform exceptionally well.” He nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave. Just then, Candace, in her ten-centimeter Jimmy Choo heels, pushed the door open. The scent of Chanel No. 5 instantly filled the entire space. “Julian, the board members…” She feigned surprise, covering her mouth. “Oh dear, Ms. Scarlett is here too.” Julian immediately adopted a tender expression, naturally wrapping an arm around Candace’s slender waist: “It’s all handled. Shall we go?” Candace flashed me a victor’s smile, her lips, painted with CL red-bottom lipstick, moving as she spoke: “Oh, and Scarlett, remember to dress formally tomorrow. After all, it’s going to be live-streamed on the company’s internal network.” Watching them walk away hand-in-hand, I bit down so hard on my lip, I tasted blood. The next morning, at 6 AM, I stood by the HR department’s door. My resignation letter was already crumpled in my bag. The elevator chimed open, and Candace, swaying her hips, stepped out. Her new Givenchy Fall collection suit made her look both sharp and alluring. “Well, well, isn’t it our ‘star trader’?” She deliberately raised her voice, causing several early-bird colleagues to glance over. “Weren’t you going to resign? What, slinking back already?” She leaned close to my ear, her warm breath caressing my neck: “Or perhaps… the men in that private room didn’t satisfy you that night?” I snapped my head up, meeting her malicious gaze head-on. The timid intern who used to trail behind me with reports, shyly calling me ‘Ms. Scarlett,’ had vanished completely. *SMACK!* My hand moved faster than my brain, but just as it was about to connect with her cheek, it was caught in a vice-like grip. Candace’s perfectly manicured nails dug deep into my bandaged wrist. The excruciating pain made my vision blur. “A trader without her right hand? Can’t even throw a punch, it’s like a tickle.” She maliciously ground her nails into my wound, and blood quickly seeped out, staining the gauze. “If that little slap affects my trading performance today, what do you think… Julian will do to you?” She flung my hand away, then elegantly pulled a wet wipe from her Hermes bag to clean her fingers, as if I were something dirty. The crisp click of her heels gradually faded away. I leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, the searing pain in my wrist shooting straight to my heart. At 7:30 AM, Julian was setting up the projection equipment in the trading hall. The massive LED screen cycled through company promotional videos, among them, clips of me accepting the “Best Trader” award years ago. “Where’s Scarlett?” He checked his watch for the third time, impatience in his voice. “The market’s about to open, the morning meeting *must* start on time! How can someone with this level of discipline be trusted with client funds?” Ben, the assistant, stammered: “We’ve called her three times, but no one’s answering…” Julian irritably loosened his tie and slipped into the fire escape to call Candace. “Baby, how about we go to ‘The Summit’ tonight? That role-play you mentioned wanting to try…” His voice suddenly turned syrupy. “Yes, just like in those photos… you play the drunk client, I’ll be the attentive manager…” “Every time I see your eyes red with pleading, I just…” His breathing grew heavier, and his other hand unconsciously unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt. Suddenly, Ben burst in, panic-stricken: “Mr. Julian! It’s bad! Security says… says Scarlett went to the rooftop…” Julian’s expression froze instantly. The next second, like a furious lion, he lunged for the elevator, frantically jamming the ‘up’ button: “Damn it! Seal off the news immediately! Notify security… No, I’ll go myself!” When he kicked open the rooftop safety door, the first rays of morning sun were piercing through the clouds. The wind on the thirty-eighth floor was fierce, whipping my white blouse around me. “Scarlett!” His voice was tinged with genuine fear for the first time. “Get your ass down here! I don’t care about the twenty million! Do you hear me?!” I looked back at him one last time, the man I’d loved for five years, his tie crooked, his composure shattered. How pathetic. Even now, all he cared about was the company’s reputation. “Julian.” I said softly, “You will never, ever get that Chief Analyst position.” Amidst the blaring police sirens. I spread my arms wide, just as I had when I made my first foreign exchange trade, embracing this grand, magnificent fall.
“She shouldn’t be in her room, should she? Didn’t I assign people to watch her? Are all of you completely useless?” Julian’s voice carried from the end of the hallway, accompanied by hurried footsteps. I stood at the edge of the rooftop, the gauze on my right wrist fluttering gently in the wind. A faint tingling sensation came from my fingertips— It was a lingering effect of the nerve damage; the doctors said I’d never be able to perform high-frequency trading again. “Mr. Julian, we truly couldn’t stop Ms. Scarlett, she insisted on going to the rooftop…” Ben’s voice trailed off. I closed my eyes, feeling the thirty-eighth-floor wind howl past. Three days ago, I was sitting in the trading hall, my fingers dancing across the keyboard, processing hundreds of trades every minute. And now, all of it was gone. “Scarlett!” Julian’s voice, as he pushed open the rooftop door, brought me back to reality. He was in a sharp suit, his tie flapping in the wind, his face etched with that familiar look of worry— A look that once made my heart race, but now only disgusted me. “What are you doing standing there? Get down from there, now!” He extended a hand to me, his voice carrying just the right amount of urgency. I slowly turned, seeing the hospital security guards and Ben following behind him. Julian was always like this, playing the part perfectly, leaving no loose ends. Just like he arranged for angry clients to injure my hands, just like the words he spoke to his assistant outside the operating room. “Julian.” My voice was soft, but loud enough for him to hear, “Do you even grasp what it means for a high-frequency trader to lose their right hand?” His expression stiffened for a moment, then he quickly put on that gentle face again: “Scarlett, don’t overthink things. The doctors said your hand will recover. Let’s go home, okay?” “Recover?” I laughed, holding up my bandaged right hand. “Permanent nerve damage, 70% loss of fine motor skills – is *that* what you call ‘recovery’?” Julian took a step forward, and I immediately retreated, my heel already hanging over the edge. Gasps rose from below. Someone had spotted us on the rooftop. “Scarlett! Don’t do anything foolish!” Julian finally revealed his true fear. “I admit I was wrong. I shouldn’t have let you take the fall for Candace, but I truly love you!” “Love?” I scoffed. “You only love the ‘Mrs. Julian’ who could pave your way. Now that I, the trader, am ruined, it’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” The wind picked up, scattering my hair. I looked down at the crowd gathering below, then at Julian’s ashen face. In that moment, I suddenly didn’t want to die— At least not if it meant letting him get what he wanted by getting rid of me. “Scarlett, please…” Julian’s voice trembled. “Think about our future…” “Future?” I slowly stepped away from the rooftop edge, stopping in front of him under his surprised gaze. “Alright then, let’s talk about our future.” Julian sighed in relief, reaching out to steady me, but I pulled away. I looked him straight in the eyes: “I have only one condition – I want to see Candace.” “That…” He hesitated. “She’s not available right now…” “Then there’s nothing to discuss.” I turned, ready to walk back to the rooftop edge. “Fine! Fine! I’ll arrange it!” Julian quickly agreed. “I’ll have her come see you tomorrow. Just come back to the room with me first.” I let him help me off the rooftop, already planning my next move in my mind. What Julian didn’t know was the first thing I did after waking up in the operating room. I had asked the nurse to contact an old friend for me – Mr. Davies from the Financial Regulatory Authority. Back in the hospital room, Julian diligently poured me water and tucked in the duvet around me. He seemed to have reverted to being the considerate husband he once was. I closed my eyes, feigning rest, listening to him make a hushed phone call on the balcony. “Candace, you have to come to the hospital tomorrow… Yes, she’s demanding to see you… I know it’s risky, but she’s emotionally unstable right now… What? No! If she actually jumps, the media will dig deep into *why*…” I silently curved my lips into a smile. Julian always prioritized profit, even over his first love. The next afternoon, Candace arrived as expected. She wore a Chanel suit and carried an Hermes bag. Her makeup was so meticulously applied, she looked ready for a financial summit, not a hospital visit. “Scarlett.” She stood by the bed, a facade of concern on her face. “I heard you’re not doing so well?” I didn’t answer, just stared at her red-polished nails— Those hands that were now operating the keyboards in the trading floor, in place of mine. “Mr. Julian is very worried about you.” She continued, an undisguised triumph in her tone. “He said that once you’re discharged, you can focus on being Mrs. Julian, and he’ll leave the trading department to me…” “Candace.” I interrupted her, my voice surprisingly calm. “Do you know what high-frequency trading absolutely despises?” She paused: “What?” “Emotional trading.” I slowly sat up. “A trader swayed by emotions will eventually blow up their account.” Candace’s face changed slightly: “I don’t understand what you mean.” “You will.” I smiled. “Oh, and thank Julian for the gift he sent me.” “Gift?” I held up my right hand: “This ruined hand, it’s the best gift he could have given me.” Candace left in a hurry, clearly startled by my words. I picked up the phone from the bedside table and dialed Mr. Davies. “Mr. Davies, it’s Scarlett. Regarding the suspicious trading records for account MH6703, I have some new findings…” After hanging up, I gazed out at the blue sky. Julian thought destroying my career would control me, but he was wrong. The most important lesson I learned in the financial market was – always have a hedging strategy. And now, my revenge plan had only just begun.
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