During my divorce hearing, the judge ruled that I would leave the courtroom with nothing. My husband stood beside his mistress wearing a smug expression that made it obvious he thought he had already won. “We’ll see how you and that baby survive without me,” he sneered. I lowered my head and swallowed the humiliation, until the courtroom doors suddenly exploded open. A billionaire walked inside, his eyes locked directly on me. “Without you, my daughter and grandchild will live like royalty.” The smile vanished from my husband’s face instantly.

He had already cut ties with Chloe, casting her aside to present himself to the public as a repentant husband desperately trying to save his family.

“I can make him disappear legally within an hour,” Gavin offered softly as he stepped into the library.

I turned around to face him.

My father stood in the doorway holding his silver cane, his cold eyes fixed on Patrick’s face on the screen with lethal calm.

“A single phone call,” he said quietly. “His firm will lose its operating license before noon tomorrow. His personal accounts will be frozen completely.”

A month ago, a public stunt like this from Patrick would have terrified me. I would have believed the media coverage and felt helpless against his lies.

But now, as I watched real-time financial data scrolling across another monitor nearby, I felt a strange sense of clarity and focus.

“No, Dad,” I said firmly.

Using the word Dad still felt somewhat unfamiliar and heavy on my tongue, but it felt right.

Gavin raised an eyebrow slightly, clearly surprised by my response.

“If you simply destroy him using Vanguard’s immense power, he will play the victim for the rest of his life,” I explained calmly. “He will tell everyone that a ruthless billionaire stole his family away. He will write a book and gather endless sympathy from the public. Men like Patrick live on public attention.”

I pulled a complex financial spreadsheet onto the main center screen.

“His venture firm is dangerously overleveraged on the upcoming acquisition of Aether Tech. He desperately needs fifty million dollars in emergency bridge financing by this Friday, or his fund will collapse entirely. Investors will panic, regulators will step in, and everything he built will burn to the ground.”

CHAPTER 8
09/10/2026

Gavin walked over to stand beside my chair.

“And what do you propose we do?”

“I want Vanguard Global to act as the anonymous syndicate that offers him that exact bridge loan,” I said, looking at Patrick’s face on the television screen.

“You want to rescue him?”

“No,” I replied coldly. “I want him to believe he has won. I want him to eagerly sign the contract. I want him to pledge his personal assets, his penthouse, his luxury vehicles, his firm, everything he owns, as collateral.”

My voice took on a sharp edge.

“I do not want you to build his trap for him. I want him to construct it with his own hands.”