Zelica let out a little chuckle—a cold laugh.
“Steal Quacy, Ms. Aniya? Why would I bother picking up the trash I already threw out?”
Aniya’s face turned red.
Zelica stood up. Now she was at eye level with her.
“Listen well,” she whispered, but the intensity made Aniya take a step back. “I’m not interested in Quacy. I’m interested in his company. And if you want to know…”
She glanced at the flashy bag in Aniya’s hand.
“Quacy came to me begging me to finance his project. He isn’t even capable of paying for your lifestyle without begging me.”
“Liar.”
“Ah, yes?” Zelica pulled out a black credit card—the Centurion card—from her wallet. A card made of metal. “Today I feel generous.”
She called the waiter.
“The check, please. And also for this lady—I’m paying,” she said.
Zelica looked at Aniya.
“Consider it charity. You need it more than I do.”
She grabbed her tablet and walked out, leaving Aniya frozen in shame, turned into a spectacle for the entire café.
The bait game had worked.
Quacy was humiliated by the urgent need to hand over all his financial documents to Seek’s team. Meanwhile, Zelica humiliated Aniya in the café.
Seek’s team gathered in the war room of the Cascade mansion.
“This isn’t a company, Ms. Zelica,” Seek said, pointing at the large screen showing the cash flow of Quacy Constructions, Inc. “This is a house of cards built on air.”
“Explain,” Zelica said.
“First—materials,” Seek said. “He charges his clients for grade-A cement, but reports show he buys grade-C. He takes a forty percent profit just on material embezzlement. This is illegal and dangerous.”
Zelica remembered a small bridge project Quacy had bragged about. Her stomach turned.
“Second—debts,” Seek continued. “He doesn’t have bank debts. He’s too smart for that. He gets into debt with small suppliers—sand pits, local hardware stores, small equipment rental companies. He delays their payments for months, even years, knowing they don’t have the legal strength to fight him.”
The list of supplier names appeared on the screen. Zelica recognized some names.
“And third—taxes,” Seek said. “He keeps two books. One for himself, one for the IRS. His tax evasion is massive.”
Zelica sat in silence. The man she had been married to for ten years—the man she cared for when he was sick—turned out to be a scammer, an extortionist, and a thief.
