Chapter 3

The result was inevitable.

Bai Weiwei was dismissed on the spot and ordered to return more than ten million yuan in improperly obtained funds.

Yan Cheng retained his title temporarily, but lost all financial authority pending an internal investigation.

He was shattered.

I held control.

In his office, he went wild—smashing things, roaring like a trapped animal.

“You destroyed me, Shen Wan! Over some woman who means nothing, you destroyed me!”

I folded my arms.

“Nothing? I thought she was your special one.”

He said nothing, eyes bloodshot.

“What do you want?”

“What belongs to me. This company isn’t yours alone. You don’t get to spend my money on your mistress.”

“I didn’t—”

“You know better than I do.”

I turned.

“From today, I handle the company. Cooperate with the investigators.”

“You’ll regret this!”

I didn’t look back.

“Regret stopped being part of this when I learned you’d betrayed me.”

I began clearing out his faction.

Transfers. Dismissals.

The company changed around him as his power collapsed piece by piece.

Bai Weiwei fared worse.

Word of the affair and misappropriation spread through the industry. No one would hire her.

A week later, she called me, sobbing.

“Director Shen, I know I was wrong. Please give me a way out.”

“A way out?”

I laughed coldly.

“When you spent my husband’s money, drove his car, and lived in the home he bought you, did you think about mine?”

“I truly love him!”

“You love money, power, and status. Return the money within a week, or I’ll see you in court.”

I hung up and blocked her.

Mercy toward her would be cruelty toward myself.

I thought it was over.

I’d underestimated Yan Cheng’s shamelessness and Bai Weiwei’s desperation.

A week later, social media exploded.

Account after account posted supposed revelations about me.

I’d come from nothing, schemed my way into wealth, and become an arrogant wife who oppressed her husband. My father had forced him to marry me.

Yan Cheng became the pitiable son-in-law controlled by a wealthy family.

Bai Weiwei became an independent woman brave enough to resist injustice.

Opinion reversed with dizzying speed.

I went from victim to villain.

“The cruel wife and the poor husband!”

“What a terrifying woman. She treats men like tools!”

“Support Bai! Down with the wicked female capitalist!”

My hands shook as I read.

No need to guess who was behind it.

He knew my weakness: the Shen family’s reputation.

My assistant knocked, pale.

“Director Shen, several partners have canceled their contracts. Our shares are falling sharply…”

I drew a deep breath.

“I understand. You can go.”

Alone, I watched the traffic below, city lights blurred against the glass.

“You think this will break me, Yan Cheng?”

I opened my contacts and called a number I hadn’t used in a long time.

“Hello?”

A man’s rough voice.

“It’s Shen Wan. Zhuo, I need a favor.”

Zhuo Hang. My father’s former student. Now a leading private investigator—discreet and exceptionally good.

When I finished, he said only, “Three days. I’ll bring everything about those two into the light. It’ll be a hundred times more interesting than their online stories.”

“Good.”

My resolve hardened.

“Time to end this farce.”

Three days later, he sent an encrypted file.

I opened it and froze.

Photographs. Video. Recordings.

The two of them embracing in his office, hotels—even my home.

Yan Cheng’s recorded voice was sickeningly tender.

“Don’t worry, Weiwei. Once I get rid of Shen Wan, Yan Group will be ours.”

“What has she got besides money? She’s old. I’m no longer interested.”

“Be patient. You’ll be Mrs. Yan officially.”

Bai Weiwei’s voice turned coy.

“When are you divorcing her? I’m tired of hiding.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to transfer company money to me? What if someone finds out?”

“Don’t worry. I’ve already hired online trolls. We’ll ruin her reputation and force her out with nothing!”

My heart felt submerged in ice.

I’d thought it was an infatuation.

They’d been plotting against me all along.

There was worse.

Bai Weiwei wasn’t the outstanding university graduate she claimed to be.

She’d dropped out of high school, undergone cosmetic surgery, worked as an escort, and lived by manipulation. Approaching him had been deliberate from the start.

Behind my back, Yan Cheng had made a string of disastrous investments. He’d misappropriated funds and borrowed from loan sharks to cover the losses.

He intended to use public opinion to force me out, seize my shares, and pay his hidden debts with the group’s assets.

An elegant escape plan. Make me bear the cost while he slipped free.

I closed the file, fury burning.

But I didn’t rush.

I sorted the evidence. Some went to my legal team. Some to a respected financial reporter I knew.

Then I posted one thing on WeChat.

A photograph from university.

His faded T-shirt. Me leaning on his shoulder, smiling without a care.

The caption:

*Ten years of marriage, strangers overnight. Yan Cheng, may your future be bright.*

A final farewell.

And the opening signal of my counterattack.