Five years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband at my cousin’s wedding.

While Marcus was drowning in panic inside the walls of Rhodes Capital, Chloe Vance was busy celebrating a reality that did not exist.

That afternoon, Chloe walked into L'Avenue, an ultra-exclusive luxury boutique on Fifth Avenue where Manhattan’s elite spent fortunes on designer handbags and haute couture.

Chloe had spent the entire morning bragging to her socialite friends about Marcus’s pending $100M payout. She believed that despite the awkward encounter at the wedding, Julian Rhodes was far too pragmatic a businessman to walk away from Mercer Logistics. In her eyes, Marcus was about to become a ultra-centimillionaire, and she was determined to spend his money early.

"I’d like to see the crocodile Birkin in the back room," Chloe demanded loudly to the sales associate, sipping a glass of complimentary champagne. "My fiancé is finalizing a nine-figure deal today, so don't worry about the price tag."

"Of course, Miss Vance," the clerk smiled politely.

While Chloe was looking at a forty-thousand-dollar handbag, the glass front doors of the boutique opened.

I walked in, accompanied by my personal stylist and two security guards carrying several garment bags from my morning fitting. I was dressed in a simple Italian cashmere trench coat, but the discreet gold Patek Philippe watch on my wrist was worth more than Marcus’s entire sports car collection.

Chloe turned, her eyes narrowing as she saw me. A sneer instantly curled her lip.

"Well, well. Look who’s putting on airs," Chloe mocked, strutting over with her champagne glass held high. "Did Julian buy you that watch to compensate for the fact that you’re just his hired accountant?"

I stopped, looking at her with a quiet mixture of amusement and pity. "Hello, Chloe."

"You really thought you did something at the wedding, didn't you?" Chloe scoffed, leaning in closer, her voice dripping with venom. "Showing off your little daughter, pretending you’re some powerful socialite. But let me tell you something, Evelyn—Marcus built Mercer Logistics from the ground up. He’s the genius behind that empire. Once Julian signs that check today, Marcus will have more wealth than you could ever dream of."

I smiled softly, smoothing the lapel of my coat. "Chloe, tell me something. Has Marcus checked his personal bank accounts today?"

Chloe frowned, her smug smile faltering slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"When a company undergoes a Level-4 Forensic Audit by an acquiring firm," I explained in a sweet, conversational tone, "the acquiring firm files a mandatory SEC freeze notice on all major shareholder assets to prevent insider liquidation during due diligence."

Chloe blinked, her eyes darting nervously. "What does that mean in English?"

"It means," I whispered, stepping closer so only she could hear, "as of 11:00 AM this morning, every single line of credit Marcus opened, every credit card he gave you, and every offshore account tied to Mercer Logistics has been completely frozen."

Right on cue, the high-end boutique’s store manager walked out from the back office, carrying a luxury leather box—and Chloe’s black American Express card.

"Miss Vance?" the manager said awkwardly, his voice echoing in the quiet store. "I’m so sorry to interrupt... but when we tried to process your deposit for the Birkin, your card came back as 'Account Suspended by Federal Order.'"

The silence in the store was deafening.

Chloe’s face flushed bright red. "What?! That’s impossible! Try it again! Marcus has millions!"

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the manager said stiffly, handing the card back. "The transaction was flagged directly by the treasury compliance division. We cannot process any purchases for you today."