Chapter 3

I opened the synced bank records and started going through every single transaction.

Test prep course for grad school: 80,000 dollars.

Graduate school tuition and dorm fees: 120,000 dollars.

Four years of rent on that upscale apartment in Sandling: 160,000 dollars.

Four years' worth of bags, cosmetics, and living expenses: 240,000 dollars.

The down payment I'd set aside for Nancy's and my wedding apartment: 300,000 dollars.

And last month, I just transferred her the money for our wedding: 300,000 dollars.

The grand total was 1.2 million dollars.

Eight years. That was how long I'd been grinding my bones and bleeding myself dry just to give Nancy the "security" she wanted.

I traced the 300,000 dollars I had transferred to her for our wedding to find out where the money had gone.

Dad had given it to me before he was diagnosed with cancer. I had refused to take it at first, but he insisted, wanting to make sure that our wedding would go ahead without a hitch.

The bank records didn't lie. That money never went into any savings account, despite everything she'd told me.

The day after she received the money, she transferred it into a corporate account registered under the name "Doyle Tech", claiming it was for "working capital for a personal investment project".

I stared at the endless transaction records and transfer receipts on the screen, then suddenly burst into laughter.

The more I laughed, the harder it became to hold back my tears, until they finally fell onto the keyboard.

She wasn't just using my money to support herself.

She and her whole family had been scheming against me, using my money to support her first love!

I captured screenshots and downloaded everything I could find, including her chat logs, bank transfers, hotel bookings in Manta Coast, and records of her stays in other cities.

I then connected my device to the shared printer in the lounge next door.

It hummed to life and began spitting out page after page of evidence.

I stood there watching the black-and-white sheets stack up.

Without warning, it hit me that Dad might have been lucky not to have lived long enough to see her.

Just as the printer spat out the final page, a new email suddenly popped up in the bottom-right corner of the screen.

It was from that mysterious anonymous account again.

This time, it didn't come with any text. There was only a video attachment titled "Graduation".

The video was shot in June four years ago, showing the backstage area of Nancy's graduation hall.

Nancy wore her gown and cap, while Sean stood beside her in a well-tailored suit.

They were locked in an embrace in a deserted hallway corner, kissing each other deeply as if no one else existed.

The video was filmed secretly, but it showed Nancy wrapping her arms around Sean's neck, her gaze filled with adoration and worship.

My eyes locked onto the timestamp flickering in the bottom-right corner of the video. All the blood in my body drained out in an instant, and my fingertips turned cold.

What was I doing four years ago on that day?

I soon remembered.

That day, Dad had just been diagnosed with a liver tumor and was in the hospital undergoing his first lesion removal surgery.

I was sitting by myself on that freezing plastic bench outside the operating room.

My eyes were fixed on the glowing red sign that read, "Surgery In Progress". I couldn't help trembling, feeling like the world was going to collapse on me.

Desperate and terrified, I typed out a message to Nancy. "Nancy, the surgery has just started. I'm a little scared. Can we talk?"

What had been her reply?

"Hugo, graduation is really hectic. My advisor and all the deans keep pulling me around to socialize. I'll call you later. Your dad will make it through. Don't worry."

Turns out, her "hectic" meant kissing another guy passionately backstage.

Her "socializing" meant giving herself completely to her first love, Sean.

For eight years, I wasn't just a constant source of money she could turn to whenever she needed it. I was also nothing more than a convenient distraction she used to fill the gaps whenever Sean wasn't around.

With a blank expression, I closed the video file and placed all the printed evidence into a brown paper envelope.

I stood and placed a hand on Dad's framed portrait. For a long moment, I just looked at his kind face, letting the silence settle around me.

I decided to visit Dad's grave two days later.

I pulled out my phone to text Nancy.

"I'm going to the cemetery two days from now. Bring your parents to the Snow residence. We'll settle the wedding money and the apartment downtown once and for all."

Less than ten seconds after my text was sent, Nancy's reply arrived.