Chapter 4 - The Red Dress and The Trap
A week before the wedding, I received an invitation Julian had someone deliver. Gold lettering, ornate wording, every character oozing showmanship and insult.
Inside was a small note handwritten by Julian: “Welcome to witness my happiness.”
This wasn't an invitation; it was a declaration of war.
He probably thought I would tear the invitation to shreds or call him to curse him out like a maniac. But I just had my assistant reply: “Ms. Vance says she will arrive on time to send the newlyweds her most sincere blessings.”
When the message got back, Julian and Chloe must have been even more smug. They were certain I was only going there to make a scene, to play the role of a hysterical, bitter woman so they could stand on the moral high ground and win everyone's sympathy.
The more they looked forward to it, the more I had to disappoint them.
I met with the top-tier corporate legal team introduced by Professor Harrison and laid out all the evidence. The lawyers looked at the complex agreements written in multiple languages and the offshore account cash flows, their expressions shifting from shock to excitement.
“Ms. Vance, this case is an absolute slam dunk. Not only can we help you recover all the assets, but we can also make Mr. Hayes pay a devastatingly high price.”
With this professional guarantee, I finally swallowed the last reassuring pill.
Over the next few days, I no longer wore the gloomy, plain clothes of a housewife. I went to Fifth Avenue, selecting my "battle armor."
The person in the mirror removed the thick black-rimmed glasses deliberately used to hide her sharpness, revealing a pair of clear, piercing eyes. The sales associate recommended a fiery red strapless evening gown that made my skin look snow-white and radiated an explosive aura.
“I’ll take this one,” I said.
Just as I swiped my card, a grating voice sounded behind me.
“Oh, isn't this Olivia the great philanthropist? What's wrong? Divorced and still have money to blow in a place like this?”
It was Chloe. She was arm-in-arm with a middle-aged socialite, using a critical eye to size me up and down. Today, she was dripping in jewels, as if terrified people wouldn't know she was marrying into money.
“A divorced woman should know her place. Dressing so flashy, who are you trying to seduce?” the socialite beside her echoed, her tone full of disdain.
I didn't even bother to lift my eyelids, simply saying flatly to the sales associate, “Wrap up the most expensive one.”
Then, I turned to Chloe, looking at her face slightly distorted with jealousy, and smiled softly. I spoke to the sales associate in French, a language Chloe entirely didn't understand:
“Anyway, I’m going to attend a funeral soon; naturally, I have to dress the part.”
A flash of shock appeared on the sales associate's face, but she immediately maintained her professional smile. Chloe looked bewildered, only able to read an incomprehensible contempt from my smile.
That feeling must have made her very uncomfortable.
The night before the wedding, Carter contacted me again. He sent me the latest internal transaction records of Julian’s company via an encrypted email. This was the final, and most crucial, puzzle piece.
I packaged all the evidence and set a scheduled send. The recipients were the inboxes of major financial media outlets, along with the personal emails of all the company's shareholders.
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The send time was set for 12:00 PM tomorrow. Exactly when the wedding ceremony would begin.
Everything was ready. Julian, your judgment day has arrived.
