Chapter 6

9:15 AM.

A black Chevrolet pulled up silently to the side entrance of 740 Park Avenue. The windows were tinted with a dark privacy film, making the interior completely invisible from the outside.

Inside the car, Vivian clutched her handbag tightly, her knuckles turning white from the strain. She wore a pair of oversized sunglasses that concealed her slightly haggard face, and her body was wrapped in an nondescript beige trench coat—a stark departure from her usual image, where not a single hair would be out of place.

"Relax, Vivian." Seated beside her, Lee Yoon-jin was monitoring the building's security system on her iPad. "According to my intel, Alexander's driver picked him up at 8:30. He has a closed-door meeting at JPMorgan at 9:30 regarding the post-merger settlement. That means we have a safety window of at least two hours."

Vivian took a deep breath. "I'm not afraid of him. I just... I feel sick."

"Nausea is good. Nausea keeps you sober." Lee put away the iPad and handed her a black USB drive. "Remember our objective. Study, safe. You need to find any documents related to the 'Cayman Islands,' the 'Argos Fund,' or offshore accounts. If it's paper, photograph everything; if it's electronic data, use this drive to copy it. It's military-grade encryption; just plug it in and the extraction program will run automatically."

"What if he changed the password?" Vivian asked the question she feared most.

"Narcissists usually don't change numbers that hold special significance to them because, subconsciously, they believe they control everything and that no one would dare betray them." Lee adjusted her glasses, a cold glint flashing across the lenses. "Go. Take back the chips that belong to you."

Vivian nodded and pushed open the car door.

The early winter wind carried a chill that tousled her hair. She didn't take the main entrance but instead circled to the side door known only to residents and staff.

"Good morning, Mrs. Hamilton."

Henry, the doorman, paused for a moment when he saw her. He was clearly surprised by her low-key attire, and even more surprised that she had stepped out of a strange car rather than the familiar Bentley.

"Good morning, Henry." Vivian forced a smile, trying to keep her voice sounding natural. "I forgot my gym card; just came back to grab it."

Henry didn't pry; he politely swiped his card to open the door for her. In this building, not questioning the residents' privacy was the first rule of survival.

The elevator rose smoothly. The numbers flickered upward faster and faster, and Vivian's heart rate accelerated in kind.

*Ding.*

The penthouse floor.

Vivian stepped out of the elevator and stood before the familiar double mahogany doors. She fished the key from her bag, her hand trembling slightly. She had used this key for ten years, and every turn had meant coming home. But today, for the first time, she felt like an intruder.

The lock cylinder turned, emitting a crisp *click*.

The door opened.

The apartment was filled with that same suffocating silence. In the entryway, the leather shoes Alexander had kicked off the night before had already been cleared away by the housekeeper, Maria—no, Maria was off today; she had specifically arranged that.

Or had Alexander kicked them aside himself?

Vivian didn't linger. She walked straight through the living room toward the study at the end of the hall. As she passed the dining room, she subconsciously glanced at the table.

The steak was gone. The bottle of red wine was gone.

But the ring was gone, too.

Had he put it away? Or had he thrown it in the trash?

Vivian forced herself to look away and pushed open the heavy oak door of the study.

A thick scent of cigars assaulted her senses, mingled with the musk of old books and expensive leather. This was Alexander's territory, the command center from which he strategized and decided the flow of hundreds of millions of dollars. In ten years of marriage, aside from delivering coffee, she had rarely been allowed to stay in here for more than five minutes.

In the center of the study stood a massive mahogany desk, backed by a wall-to-wall bookshelf.

Vivian walked to the third shelf, where a row of hardbound books on the Napoleonic Wars was displayed. Alexander worshipped Napoleon; he always said he was the Napoleon of Wall Street.

She reached out and pulled the copy of *The Battle of Austerlitz*.

Behind the book, the panel of a recessed wall safe was revealed.

Vivian's fingers hovered over the keypad.

1... 1... 2... 3.

Her breathing stalled in that moment.

*Beep—*

The green light flashed. With a soft mechanical whir, the safe door popped open a crack.

He really hadn't changed the password.

Vivian felt a wave of irony. His contempt for her had turned out to be her greatest weapon in this moment.

She pulled the door open.

Inside were stacks of hundred-dollar bills, several limited-edition Richard Mille watches, and a few passports.

Vivian ignored the cash and the luxury watches. Her gaze locked onto a black folder at the very bottom. The side of the folder bore no label, yet it possessed an unsettling heaviness.

With trembling hands, she pulled the folder out and flipped open the first page.

It was full of legal documents and financial statements in English. Although she wasn't a professional lawyer, the keywords were shocking enough:

*Argos Global Holdings Ltd. (Cayman Islands)*

*Beneficiary: Alexander Hamilton*

*Transaction Date: May 12, 2023*

*Amount: $5,000,000*

The date was May. That was the critical period of the merger negotiations.

Vivian flipped through the pages rapidly. Inside were not just transfer records, but also printouts of emails between him and several insiders. To this arrogant man, printing out these "trophies" and locking them in his safe was like a hunter displaying a mounted head—a symbol of glory.

"Got you," Vivian whispered, her voice trembling with a trace of vindictive pleasure.

She took out her phone and began photographing frantically. Every page, every signature, every account number. The flash flickered incessantly in the dim study, like silent lightning strikes.

After photographing all the documents, she noticed a black velvet box pressed underneath the folder.

It was a box she had never seen before.

Out of curiosity, she opened it.

Inside was not jewelry, but a necklace. A somewhat cheap-looking silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a simple letter "S".

beneath the necklace lay a card. The handwriting was Alexander's—flamboyant, carrying his characteristic hubris:

*"To Scarlett: You are the only woman who can keep up with my pace. This is the beginning of our conquest of the world. —A"*

Vivian stared at the card, feeling her stomach churn violently.

This was more disgusting than the insider trading documents.

It turned out that in his eyes, she, Vivian, was just a vase for decoration, a burden who couldn't keep up with him. And that assistant, who would do anything to climb the ladder, was his "soulmate."

Vivian slammed the box shut and stuffed it, along with the black folder, into her bag.

Lee Yoon-jin was right. This wasn't just a divorce; this was a war.

Since he wanted to conquer the world, she would destroy his world.

Just then, a hurried sound of footsteps suddenly came from outside the study.

Vivian froze.

"Maria? Are you in there?"

It was a woman's voice. Young, arrogant, carrying an unquestionable tone of command.

Vivian's pupils contracted instantly.

She recognized that voice.

It was Scarlett.