Chapter 3

Upper East Side, Madison Avenue, The Carlyle.

This was a hotel favored by time itself. Unlike those newly built glass-curtain hotels that screamed for attention, The Carlyle was like an old dowager in a tweed suit—elegant, reserved, and tight-lipped. It was the Kennedy family's secret palace, Princess Diana's sanctuary in New York, and the preferred location for high society to handle those "inconvenient" private matters.

Eleven o'clock at night.

Vivian sat in the living room of the Empire Suite on the 35th floor. She hadn't turned on the main lights; only a floor lamp in the corner emitted a dim, yellow halo. In her hand was no longer that glass of bitter red wine, but a glass of sparkling water with ice.

She had already changed out of the black velvet gown. She was now wearing a simple cashmere cardigan and jeans—items she had dug out from the depths of her closet. She hadn't brought a single one of the haute couture gowns Alexander had bought her, which filled an entire wall.

At her feet stood a silver carry-on suitcase. It contained everything she had taken: a few sketchbooks, a set of charcoal pencils she used out of habit, and a bankbook.

The doorbell rang.

Vivian took a deep breath, her bare feet treading on the thick carpet as she went to answer it.

Lee Yun-jin stood outside.

The illustrious divorce lawyer was even more imposing in person than on her business card. She wore a sharply tailored Burberry trench coat and carried a black briefcase. Her hair was meticulously pinned up, and she wore black-framed glasses, the gaze behind the lenses as cold as if she were assessing a corpse.

"Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton." Lee Yun-jin nodded slightly, her tone strictly business.

"Call me Vivian." Vivian stepped aside to let her in. "Or, very soon, I'll be reverting to my maiden name, White."

Lee Yun-jin walked into the suite, her eyes quickly scanning the environment before placing her briefcase on the Louis XVI-style coffee table. "A wise choice. The Carlyle's security and privacy protection are the best in New York. Unless Alexander gets a court subpoena, he won't even be able to find out you're staying here."

"He won't be looking for me tonight." Vivian smiled self-deprecatingly and sat back on the sofa. "He's busy celebrating his twenty billion dollars."

"I know." Lee Yun-jin pulled an iPad from her bag and expertly unlocked it. "The Grill. Merger victory party. Half an hour ago, someone photographed him kissing Scarlett Johnson at the bar. Although the photo is blurry, it's clear enough for a judge."

Vivian's fingers suddenly gripped the armrest of the sofa. Although she had mentally prepared herself, hearing this fact stated so nakedly still caused her heart to ache as if struck by a blunt instrument.

"You... had him followed?"

"It's a professional habit, Vivian." Lee Yun-jin pushed up her glasses; the light from the screen reflected on her face, making her look particularly cold. "When you mentioned the name 'Scarlett' on the phone, I sent my private investigator to The Grill. In divorce litigation, information is ammunition. And we need heavy artillery."

Lee Yun-jin turned the iPad around and slid it in front of Vivian.

On the screen was a candid shot. In a dimly lit corner, one of Alexander's hands was wrapped around Scarlett's waist, their faces extremely close. That look, that posture, was one Vivian knew all too well—it was the look of a hunter eyeing his prey, full of possessiveness and desire.

Vivian stared at the photo for a long time, until her eyes stung. She thought she would cry, but strangely, her eyes remained terribly dry.

"Does this count as evidence?" she asked, her voice surprisingly calm.

"In New York State, this serves as strong corroboration of 'fault'." Lee Yun-jin took the iPad back. "But this isn't enough. Alexander Hamilton is a top-tier M&A lawyer; his specialty is hiding assets and exploiting legal loopholes. If I'm not mistaken, you signed a prenup?"

"We did." Vivian nodded. "He drafted it. If we divorce, I only get a fixed alimony payment, about two million dollars, and I waive all claims to marital property."

"Typical Wall Street bastard clauses." Lee Yun-jin let out a cold laugh and opened another folder. "But a prenup has a fatal weakness—if one party concealed significant assets at the time of signing, or if there was fraud, the agreement can be deemed invalid."

Lee Yun-jin pulled a thick document from her briefcase; it was preliminary data she had retrieved within the hour.

"Alexander isn't just a good lawyer; he's a greedy gambler. My source tells me that in that twenty-billion-dollar merger, he used several shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands to buy stock in the target company beforehand. That is insider trading, Vivian. If true, this won't just tear up your prenup; it could put him in prison for a long time."

The room fell into a deathly silence.

Vivian looked at Lee Yun-jin in shock. She had never imagined that the husband who always preached "elites" and "rules" to her was playing such a dangerous game behind the scenes.

"I don't want him to go to prison," Vivian whispered. "I just... want to leave him. Thoroughly, cleanly leave him."

"No, my dear." Lee Yun-jin closed the file and leaned forward, her sharp eyes staring straight into Vivian's. "Divorce isn't a dinner party, and it isn't charity. It is a war. He is a predator worth hundreds of millions; if you don't hold a knife in your hand, he will chew you up until not even your bones remain. Two million dollars? To him, that's just a down payment on a vacation home in the Hamptons. You gave ten years of your youth, sacrificed your talent and dreams for his career. You deserve more than just this pittance meant to send away a beggar."

Lee Yun-jin's words lashed at Vivian's nerves like a whip.