At exactly ten o’clock, Samuel sent me one word.

“Completed.”

My 58% was gone.

The buyer was an investment consortium led by Northbridge Capital.

Adrian knew the name.

Everyone in our industry did.

He just didn’t know yet that the company he had spent years treating as his personal kingdom now had a new controlling shareholder.

He was still standing in front of me.

—Elena, about the divorce…

—Bring me the papers.

He blinked.

—What?

—You already prepared them, didn’t you?

His face tightened.

Five minutes later, he placed a folder on the desk.

I read it carefully.

Adrian wanted the apartment.

Two cars.

Part of our savings.

And, most interestingly, he requested that his position as general manager of Ruiheng remain unaffected by the divorce.

I almost smiled.

He had planned everything.

Everything except the one asset he had never believed I would touch.

—Fine.

I signed.

Adrian stared at my signature.

—Just like that?

—Isn’t this what you wanted?

For some reason, he didn’t look happy anymore.

At eleven fifteen, every senior executive received an emergency notice.

“Extraordinary board meeting. 2:00 p.m.”

Adrian frowned at his phone.

—Why wasn’t I informed about this?

I picked up my bag.

—Maybe because you’re not as important as you think.

His expression darkened.

I left.

At two, the boardroom was full.

Adrian sat in his usual seat beside mine.

Lena stood behind him carrying documents.

She even gave me a small, victorious smile.

Then the door opened.

Three strangers entered with Samuel.

The room immediately went quiet.

Adrian recognized the man in front.

—Mr. Harrison?

Daniel Harrison.

Managing partner of Northbridge Capital.

Daniel shook several hands before taking the seat at the head of the table.

My seat.

Adrian stood.

—Excuse me. That belongs to President Lu.

Daniel looked at me.

I nodded.

—Not anymore.

Adrian slowly turned toward me.

Samuel distributed the documents.

—As of ten o’clock this morning, President Elena Lu transferred her entire 58% ownership interest in Ruiheng Technologies.

Silence.

Lena dropped her pen.

Adrian didn’t move.

—You… what?

—Sold it.

—Fifty-eight percent?

—Every share.

He grabbed the documents.

His eyes moved rapidly across the pages.

—You can’t make a decision like this without consulting me!

Daniel calmly replied:

—She could.

Adrian looked at him.

—I’m the general manager.

—You’re an employee.

That sentence hit harder than any argument I could have given him.

Adrian looked back at me.

—You built this company.

—Exactly.

I stood.

—Which is why I was entitled to decide when to leave it.

His voice dropped.

—You’re destroying twelve years because you saw Lena adjusting my tie?

I almost admired his confidence.

So I took out my phone.

And played the recording I’d made outside his office.

His own voice filled the boardroom.

“My wife doesn’t even know that the divorce papers have been prepared for a long time.”

Nobody moved.

Lena’s face turned white.

Adrian stared at me.

I stopped the recording.

—No. I sold because I finally understood you had already planned a future without me.

I picked up my coat.

—I simply made sure it wouldn’t be financed by my company.

Then Daniel spoke.

—Before President Lu leaves, there’s another matter.

I stopped.

Adrian frowned.

Daniel opened a folder.

—Northbridge conducted an accelerated review before acquiring control.

He looked directly at Adrian.

—We found several unusual consulting payments approved by the general manager’s office.

Adrian’s expression changed.

Just slightly.

But I saw it.

So did Samuel.

Daniel continued:

—Three companies received approximately 6.4 million yuan over eighteen months.

Lena suddenly looked at Adrian.

—What companies?

Daniel slid the page across the table.

The registered representative of one was Lena’s older brother.

Her mouth fell open.

—Adrian?

He stood.

—These were legitimate vendors.

—Then the audit should be simple.

Daniel closed the folder.

—Effective immediately, your financial authorization is suspended pending review.

Adrian finally lost his composure.

—Elena!

I was already at the door.

—Don’t look at me.

I smiled.

—It’s not my company anymore.

That night, I checked into a hotel.

For the first time in twelve years, I had no company emails to answer.

No husband waiting at home.

No crisis that belonged to someone else.

At 11:43 p.m., Adrian called.

I ignored him.

Then Lena called.

That surprised me.

I answered.

She was crying.

—President Lu… I didn’t know.

—Didn’t know what?

—About those companies.

I remained silent.

She continued:

—Adrian asked for copies of my family’s identification documents last year. He said HR needed them for insurance paperwork.

My expression changed.

—Why are you telling me?

Her next sentence erased every trace of sleepiness from my body.

—Because Northbridge’s auditors found a fourth company.

I sat upright.

—And?

—It’s registered under your name.

Silence.

—Impossible.

—That’s what I told them.

A document arrived on my phone.

I opened it.

Elena Lu.

My identification number.

My supposed signature.

Then I saw the incorporation date.

Four years earlier.

Long before Adrian prepared our divorce.

Long before Lena.

And the company had received more money from Ruiheng than all the others combined.

I called Samuel immediately.

He answered on the first ring.

—You’ve seen it?

—Yes.

—Elena, there’s something else.

His voice became serious.

—Northbridge traced where part of that money went afterward.

I gripped the phone.

—Where?

Samuel paused.

—Back into Ruiheng.

I frowned.

—That makes no sense.

—It does if someone was quietly using your identity to acquire shares.

My heart stopped.

—What shares?

Samuel sent another file.

I opened it.

And there it was.

A block of Ruiheng equity.

Not included in the 58% I had sold.

Held through a company legally bearing my name.

Samuel spoke quietly:

—Elena, according to these records, you may still indirectly own another eleven percent of Ruiheng.

I stared at the screen.

Then he added:

—And Adrian has been exercising the voting rights attached to those shares for four years.

That was when I understood.

My husband hadn’t merely prepared to divorce me.

For years, he had been preparing for the day when he could control the company I founded without needing me at all.