Chapter 4

Ten minutes later, the official notice of acceptance, stamped and signed, was placed in my hand.

The sunlight was blinding when I stepped out of the Civil Affairs Bureau.

I had just slipped the documents into my bag when three men blocked my path.

Selena stepped out from beside a white SUV. Her sunglasses were pushed up onto her head.

"Maya, are you really going to take things this far?"

I glanced at the three thugs beside her.

"What was this? Did you switch careers and start filming small‑town crime documentaries?"

Her expression darkened.

"Do not act tough. If you dare cancel those records, I will go to your company’s office and protest with a banner."

"And what would it say?"

She smiled.

"That you forced your cousin to be a surrogate mother so you could marry into a wealthy family. That you stole her child. That you were a shameless homewrecker."

I nodded.

"You certainly have quite the imagination."

She stepped closer and lowered her voice.

"It was not easy getting where you are, was it? A prestigious position at a major company in Shanghai. Once public opinion turns against you, what will you have left?"

My eyes fell on the limited‑edition watch around her wrist.

"How much did the Zane family pay you in the divorce settlement?"

Her expression faltered.

I continued, "Five million dollars?"

She instinctively took half a step back.

I knew I had guessed right.

The look on the officer’s face at the police station when he mentioned the Zane family told me this was not an ordinary divorce.

Families like theirs paid generously to keep scandals quiet.

"You used my identity to sign the divorce settlement agreement and took five million dollars. This is not just identity fraud anymore.

"It is contract fraud."

Selena’s lips began to tremble.

I took a step toward her.

"Canceling the marriage record is only the first step.

"The second is recovering every dollar you took.

"The third is finding out where that child came from."

One of the men behind her cursed and shoved me.

I caught his wrist with one hand and raised my phone with the other.

The screen displayed the emergency call keypad.

"Lay one more finger on me, this stops being a civil dispute and becomes a criminal assault."

The man’s body stiffened immediately.

I walked straight through them.

Behind me, Selena screamed, "Maya! You will regret this!"

…

That afternoon, I organized my evidence back at the hotel.

Cases involving stolen identities were troublesome not because I had to prove who I was. I had to prove that the person pretending to be me was not.

I organized my 2018 attendance records, flight itineraries, hotel stays, and project contracts into a chronological timeline.

At seven that evening, someone began pounding violently on my hotel room door.

I looked through the peephole.

Victor was kneeling outside, clutching a bottle of pesticide.

A crowd had already gathered in the hallway.

Between sobs, he shouted, "Maya! You ungrateful daughter! Are you really going to drive your father to death?"

I did not open the door.

He continued wailing, "After everything I have done to raise you, you are really going to put your cousin behind bars just for a little money? Your mother would never forgive you if she could see this!"

The people watching began whispering among themselves.

I felt strangely calm standing behind the door.

The day my mother died, Victor cried like this too.

He held me in his arms and told me that I was all he had left from then on.

A month later, he brought Selena home, saying my uncle and aunt were too busy to take care of her.

Back then, I believed he was a good man who always put family first.

Outside, Victor twisted open the cap of the pesticide bottle.

Its sharp, pungent smell drifted into the room.

"If you do not call this off today, I will end my life right here outside your door."

I opened the door.

"Maya, I know you have a soft heart. Just sign the papers and tell the Civil Affairs Bureau tomorrow that this was all a misunderstanding..."

I took out my phone and dialed 911.

Then I called for an ambulance.

"Hello. There is someone causing a disturbance in the hotel hallway while carrying what appears to be pesticide. They may be at risk of self‑harm. The address is..."

Victor’s crying abruptly stopped.

"If you are going to die, do it at the hospital."

I looked at him. "Do not ruin the hotel’s carpet."

The crowd erupted in shocked murmurs.

Victor jumped to his feet, about to curse at me.

Just then, the elevator chimed.

Four men dressed in black stepped out first and quickly separated the onlookers on either side of the hallway.

Then another man emerged from the elevator.

He wore a bespoke suit, with a black overcoat draped casually over one arm. There was something cold and commanding about his presence that made the entire hallway fall silent.

I only needed one look to know who he was.

Sebastian Zane.

The man listed in the state records as my ex‑husband.