Chapter 3

The next morning, when Chris woke up, I was already sitting on the couch, holding the divorce papers.

She froze, a flicker of uncontrollable euphoria in her eyes, quickly replaced by a guilty expression.

“Carter, you didn’t sleep all night?”

She reached out to touch my face, but I turned my head, avoiding her.

“Let’s go to the city hall. The sooner we get it done, the sooner you can deal with your debts.”

By ten in the morning, our divorce was finalized.

As we walked out, Chris’s mother, Ally, was already waiting by a black Maybach. She rushed over and asked:

“Carter, did you bring the property documents? Hurry, let’s go to the bank now!”

Her greed was practically spilling from her eyes.

I pulled my hand away, calmly looking at the mother and daughter.

“The estate can’t be mortgaged today. It’s a historic landmark, so this type of asset requires review by a third-party agency before the bank will approve it.”

Ally’s face changed drastically: “Why would it take so long?!”

Chris also grew anxious: “Carter, what’s going on? Didn’t we agree?”

“It’s the regulation. Unless you can find someone with special privileges to smooth things over with the bank. But I’m just an ordinary person, I can’t do that.”

Chris gritted her teeth, her eyes darting around.

She wouldn’t dare involve the Thompson family’s connections. If the true head of the Thompson Group caught wind of the three-billion-dollar fake accounts, she would be finished.

“Alright. Carter, you absolutely must cooperate with the appraisal agency during this time.” She forced down the gloom in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” I nodded slightly.

Not only will I cooperate, but I’ll also prepare a big gift for you.

After parting ways with them, I went straight to a top-tier private investigation agency.

As I walked into the lobby, I stopped.

A woman stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of the VIP reception room.

She wore a black custom suit dress, tall and with a formidable presence.

Holding a cup of black coffee, her profile was as cold and sculpted as a statue, exuding an aura of untouchable authority.

Anhel. Chris’s aunt, the true power behind the Thompson Group.

She took over the Thompson Group at twenty-five and doubled its empire within five years.

Mention her name in all of New York, and no one dared to not feel a chill.

I hadn’t expected to run into her here.

She seemed to sense my gaze, turning her head slightly. Her sharp, cold eyes locked onto mine.

“Carter.” She spoke, her voice clear and cool, carrying a strange sense of pressure.

“Anhel.” I walked closer.

“You divorced Chris.”

A simple statement.

My heart jolted. It had been less than two hours since we finalized the papers, and she already knew.

Anhel’s lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile.

“You were willing to hand over your parents’ inheritance for that three-billion-dollar fake account. Carter, where’s your head?”

She knew everything.

I clenched my jaw, meeting her gaze: “Ms. Anhel, since you knew it was a fake account, why didn’t you expose her?”

“The Thompson Group has too many distant relatives; occasionally, we need a few minor nuisances to keep things interesting.”

She said casually, “Besides, that was your wife, your money. What concern is it of mine?”

“What if I don’t want to be the fool who gets sold out?”

Anhel raised an eyebrow slightly, seemingly intrigued.

She pulled out a sleek, black business card and handed it to me.

“Tonight at nine, penthouse suite. Think carefully about what you want, then come knock.”

With that, she turned and left, leaving behind only a chilling silhouette.