When He Stole My Wealth, I Crushed His Fraud

Chapter 2: The Hunter's Alliance

There was a heavy pause on the other end of the line. The silence was so absolute that I could almost hear the faint ticking of a grandfather clock in Adrian's office.

"I don't know who you are, Evelyn," Adrian's voice finally cut through the silence, cold and devoid of any fluctuation, "but people who play pranks with my wife's name usually end up paying a very steep price."

"I am the CEO of Nexus Tech," I replied evenly, ignoring his implicit threat. "And right now, my husband, Vincent, is sleeping off his exhaustion on the velvet sofa in his studio. On the rug next to him is a pair of pink satin ballet shoes. Size 37. Custom-made by Freed of London, with the initials 'S.A.' embroidered on the inner heel."

I paused, letting the details sink in. "If you check your wife's schedule, you'll find she supposedly had a private rehearsal this afternoon. Shall I send you the photos of her 'rehearsal' space?"

Another pause. This one was shorter, sharper.

"The Oak Room. Private lounge, thirty minutes," he ordered. The line went dead.

I put the phone down, my hand trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the searing pain in my chest. I took two of my heart medications, swallowing them dry. I needed to be at my absolute sharpest.

Thirty minutes later, I pushed open the heavy mahogany door of The Oak Room, an exclusive, members-only club in the financial district.

Adrian was already there. He sat in a high-backed leather chair, a glass of amber liquid untouched on the table beside him. He was striking—sharp jawline, piercing gray eyes that seemed to dissect everything they looked at, and a presence that commanded the entire room. He looked exactly like the apex predator the financial magazines described.

"Ms. Evelyn." He didn't stand up, merely gesturing to the seat across from him. "Show me."

I didn't waste time with pleasantries. I unlocked my phone, opened the encrypted folder, and slid it across the table.

Adrian picked it up. His eyes tracked over the images—the torn ballet shoes, the used condom, the sleeping Vincent, and finally, the glaringly obvious nude painting of Stella.

I watched him closely, expecting a c***k in his armor—a flash of rage, a tightened jaw, perhaps even a shattered glass. But there was nothing. His expression remained terrifyingly blank. He simply scrolled through them, his aura growing colder by the second, until the temperature in the room felt like it had dropped below freezing.

"Sloppy," was his only comment as he tossed the phone back to me.

"They think they're untouchable," I said, leaning back. "My company is preparing for an IPO. If I divorce him now based on simple infidelity, the legal battle will be drawn out. He has no prenuptial agreement. He could walk away with half of my assets and severely impact my company's valuation."

Adrian's gray eyes locked onto mine. "And you came to me because you want to destroy them without collateral damage."

"I want him to leave with nothing. I want him in crippling debt. And I want his precious muse to fall from grace so hard she never dances again," I stated, my voice steady despite the twisting pain in my abdomen. "I need an ally who has the resources to freeze their movements and the ruthlessness to execute the kill."

Adrian finally took a sip of his drink. He set the glass down and pulled a slim folder from his briefcase, sliding it across to me.

"I already had my suspicions," Adrian said smoothly. "Stella has been careless with her spending lately. But what you might find more interesting is what your husband has been up to."

I opened the folder. Inside were bank statements and property deeds. My eyes widened slightly. Vincent had recently purchased a luxury penthouse in Paris and a diamond necklace worth two million dollars.

"He doesn't have this kind of money," I whispered, my blood running cold.

"No, he doesn't," Adrian agreed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "But he used your company's shares as collateral to secure a shadow loan. If he defaults, the creditors will come after your tech empire."

A wave of dizzying rage washed over me. It wasn't just betrayal; it was premeditated theft. Vincent wasn't just a foolish artist swept away by lust; he was a parasite actively trying to drain my lifeblood.

"So, we have a common goal," Adrian continued, leaning forward, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. "We gather ironclad evidence of their financial fraud and asset transferring. We let them dig their own graves, deeper and deeper. And when the time is right, we bury them."

"Deal," I said, meeting his gaze without flinching.

We didn't shake hands. We didn't need to. The alliance between two betrayed, ruthless hunters had been forged in the silent shadows of that room.

By the time I returned to the villa, the sun had started to set, casting long, bloody shadows across the marble floors.

The studio door was closed. I walked into the living room just as Vincent came down the stairs. He was freshly showered, his golden hair damp, wearing a crisp white shirt. He looked like a prince out of a fairy tale.

"Evelyn! You're back!" His face lit up with a brilliant, flawless smile. He bounded down the remaining stairs and pulled me into a tight embrace.

The moment his body pressed against mine, the faint, lingering scent of Stella's tuberose perfume hit my nose, barely masked by his expensive body wash. My stomach violently churned.

"How was the doctor's appointment?" he asked, his voice dripping with honeyed concern as he kissed my forehead. "You've been working so hard lately, darling. I was worried."

I stood still in his arms. The rusted needle in my heart twisted, but my face remained perfectly composed.

I slowly pulled back just enough to look into his beautiful, lying blue eyes. I let a warm, tender smile spread across my face—the perfect mask of a devoted wife.

"Everything is fine, Vincent," I said softly, my voice echoing the gentle tone I had used for the past three years. "Just a little fatigue. The doctor said I just need to rest."

"See? I told you to take it easy," he scolded playfully, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I'll cook you dinner tonight. Whatever my sun desires."

"Thank you, darling," I murmured, resting my chin on his shoulder as he hugged me again.

As his arms wrapped around me, securing me in his suffocating web of lies, I stared blankly at the empty wall behind him. My eyes were completely dead, devoid of any light or warmth.

Enjoy your dinner, Vincent, I thought. Because it will be one of your last.