A simple bumpkin girl—what could she possibly know about the corporate world? The cutthroat competition, the backroom deals? She was clearly out of her depth. This had to be Scott's doing. He couldn't win in a straight fight, so he'd sent Chloe out to rattle him, to provoke a misstep. If he lost his cool and started begging now, he'd be playing right into their hands. "Ernesto, what did you just say?" Monique struggled to her feet, swaying slightly. From her position on the stage, she stared down at the smug man below, disbelief etched on her face. "You're claiming I transferred the company's assets?" "I'm not deeply familiar with the company's inner workings," Ernesto replied coolly, a faint, unpleasant smile on his lips. "But you're a shareholder. And you were the closest person to Mr. Lewis. The access keys, the authority over the private accounts—only he held them. Getting your hands on them wouldn't have been difficult for someone in your... intimate position, would it?" His words were the final straw. A furious rage obliterated Monique's remaining composure. She stopped caring about her appearance, her dignity. With a strangled cry, she jumped down from the low stage and lunged at him. "How can you say that! You never said anything like this before!" She screamed, her hands clawing toward him, but Ernesto simply shoved her away with brutal force. Monique, caught completely off guard, fell hard onto the polished floor. The impact was jarring, the humiliation absolute. "You... you actually pushed me..." She pointed a trembling finger at him, her eyes blazing with a fury so deep it seemed to swallow everything else. Ernesto kept his hands raised in a show of innocence. "Everyone saw. She attacked me. I was just defending myself." "You're lying! It was you! This was all your plan!" Monique shrieked, dissolving into a furious, undignified heap on the ground. "Don't try to pin everything on me just because we slept together a few times. Where's my recourse?" Ernesto chuckled, his demeanor utterly dismissive. "Monique, this is the man you've been claiming to love all this time?" Chloe's voice cut through the chaos. She had stepped gracefully to the edge of the stage, looking down at the disheveled woman. "Tsk tsk... How pitiful. You thought you had secured a perfect escape route, a foolproof plan. But was there ever really a place for you in this so-called escape?" Monique's gaze snapped up to meet Chloe's. Her eyes were horrifically bloodshot.Chloe then turned her attention to Ernesto. "Mr. Mason, a friendly reminder. Your clock is ticking. Your sweet little Nancy is probably on a private jet by now, halfway across the Atlantic with all that money." Chloe glanced casually at her phone. "I doubt she's waiting for you." Ernesto had been riding a wave of self-satisfaction, successfully redirecting the spotlight onto Monique. She was expendable now, the perfect fall guy. But at the name "Nancy", his confident facade cracked. His face darkened, and he stared at Chloe with stunned disbelief. She's bluffing. She has to be. Don't fall for it. But how did she know about Nancy? He had managed the entire fund diversion with meticulous care. He'd deliberately routed the money through Monique's accounts first, leaving a clear initial trail that would point to her. After that, it was supposed to vanish into a labyrinth of offshore shells and cryptocurrency. The real, final destination of the funds was his own external network. And to further insulate himself, he had funneled the bulk—the life-changing sum—into accounts held by Nancy. Who would think to look at her? She was invisible to the corporate world. Nancy was so compliant, so eager to please him in ways the hardened Monique never was. He doted on her. All the project money was sitting safely with her. After tonight, he would simply disappear and build a new life with her somewhere sunny and far away. Monique would be left holding the bag, her accounts conspicuously emptied. Nancy was dependable. She would take the money and wait quietly for his signal, ready to follow him anywhere. What was Chloe implying? If she knew about Nancy... did that mean Nancy had... Had she really taken the money and run? Seeing the doubt flicker across Ernesto's face, Chloe added nonchalantly, "If you don't believe me, why don't you call your darling? See if she still picks up." Ernesto hesitated, conflict warring on his face. Finally, anxiety won. He pulled out his phone with jerky movements and quickly dialed a memorized number. The call connected, but instead of ringing, an automated message greeted him, "The number you have dialed has been disconnected." The word echoed in his mind. He completely lost it. "That two-faced little witch!" he roared, and in a blind fury, he hurled his phone against the nearest wall. It shattered with a sharp crack.One billion dollars. That was his one billion dollars. That traitorous woman had stolen it from him. Could she even handle that kind of money? Damn it! He should have been more careful, kept a tighter leash. Witnessing his meltdown, Monique burst into loud, ragged laughter, the sound tinged with hysteria and vindication. "So it finally caught up with you, Ernesto! Serves you right!" she cackled. "All your sweet talk to me was a lie! A twenty-five-year-long con! You've been playing me for twenty-five years!" Her laughter grew wilder. "It was all fake. You. This was all you! You were the one who told me to seduce Scott all those years ago! You're the mastermind behind all of this! This is all your fault!"