Chapter 4

Early the next morning my assistant pushed open the office door and set a thick stack of emergency audit reports in front of me.

"Boss, the books at Alvin's company are a mess. Enormous sums went missing over the past year, and nobody can say where they went."

I opened the transaction report, its suspicious transfers circled in red. My frown deepened with every line.

Several multimillion-dollar injections of working capital from the Wharton Group had remained in his accounts for less than two hours.

Then Alvin moved them into three offshore shell accounts as so-called project advances.

I took out my phone and opened Hannah's Instagram profile.

Sure enough, the dates those huge transfers went out lined up exactly with Hannah's posts showing off her new toys.

On March 5, $300,000 left the account; that same day, Hannah posted a custom Bulgari necklace. On April 12, $2.4 million disappeared; then Hannah showed off the keys to a limited-edition sports car.

Last month, Hannah rented a prestigious downtown gallery for her show. That same week, $1.5 million in working capital disappeared from Alvin's company.

How generous of you, Alvin!

My fingertips went cold and my stomach turned over.

In seven years together, every Valentine's Day and every anniversary, Alvin gave me a rock he'd picked up by the roadside, a rough little wood carving, or some cheap handmade paper trinket.

He would squeeze my hand and promise, guilt written all over his face, "Lillian, we're at a critical point in our funding round. Every cent has to go where it matters. Once the company goes public, I'll give you the world."

I felt sorry for him and kept pouring the Wharton Group's money into his company, only to learn that the better part of a billion dollars I'd invested had gone toward keeping Hannah happy.

My phone chimed. Seconds earlier, Hannah had posted a nine-photo carousel from a yacht.

Blue water, blue sky, Hannah pressed against Alvin's chest, their lips nearly touching, not an inch between them.

Her caption was pointed enough. "I said I wanted some sea air, so he bought a luxury yacht and took me out. Some women may have the title, but without his love, what's the point? How sad."

The gleaming white superyacht in the photos stung to look at.

Last year, when Alvin proposed to me, I had accidentally seen the purchase order for that yacht on his computer.

He had scrambled to cover the screen and told me he would take me out on it one day.

I was so happy. I thought it was a romantic surprise he was saving for our honeymoon.

Turns out the surprise was for Hannah.

My father was right: money always follows love.

Fine. If there's no love, then he can cough up every cent he swallowed.

I uncapped my pen and, without a second's hesitation, signed the notice terminating the Wharton Group's guarantees.

"Tell our chief counsel to take the full evidence file to court and seek an emergency order freezing Alvin Mercer's assets. I want it done within thirty minutes."

Using my money to play the devoted man for another woman?

Then I'd show him what it felt like to crash from the top straight into the gutter.

Ten minutes later, my phone chimed again.

Hannah had posted another nine-photo carousel, this one featuring a Himalaya Birkin by Hermes.

The caption was pure gloating. "Being someone's favorite means never having to worry. Thank you for the surprise, darling."

Ten minutes later, my feed refreshed. This time it showed a page from a private Sotheby's auction catalog.

"He says he's bidding on the Pink Star for me by phone. Stay tuned, loves!"

Posting publicly apparently wasn't enough for Hannah. She sent the next message straight to my DMs.

Three floor plans for top-tier Beverly Hills estates popped up on my screen.

"Lillian, Alvin insists on paying cash for an estate for me. You have such good taste. Help me choose?"

The old me would have gone into a rage. The woman I was now didn't have a single feeling left to spend on Alvin.

I typed back lazily, "They all look fine to me. Have him buy all three."

"I just hope Alvin actually has the money to pay for them."

Hannah sent a question mark, followed by a smug voice message. "You're jealous, aren't you, Lillian? Alvin is a CEO. This is pocket change to him."

A CEO? Not anymore...

I glanced down at my watch and raised an eyebrow. Half an hour, to the minute.

A second later, Alvin's calls lit up my phone one after another.

"Lillian! Why has the bank suddenly frozen every dollar of my company's working capital?"