After my husband threw me out of the house after our divorce, I took the old bank card my father had left behind and used it at a branch in the U.S., sending the whole bank lobby into a stir as the staff hurriedly called the manager over, and the words “Look at the name on this account!” revealed a family secret I had never known.

“Good,” she said. Her voice was steady.

Seek looked at her.

“Good?”

“Yes. This gives us a weapon. What is the next step?”

“Quacy is only focused on us. On those 2,000 acres,” Seek explained. “He doesn’t realize that his debt to the small suppliers is his weakest point.”

“I want you,” Zelica said slowly. “I want you to buy all that debt.”

Seek smiled.

“I assumed so. I have prepared three shell companies in Delaware. We will buy every outstanding invoice from those suppliers. We will pay cash.”

“The suppliers will be happy,” Zelica said.

“They will be very happy,” Seek replied. “And Quacy will know nothing. He will only feel relieved because the collectors will stop calling him. He will think we are going to give him capital.”

“How much time?” Zelica asked.

“Give me a week. In a week, Quacy Constructions Inc. will no longer owe anything to the small merchants. He will owe you.”

Exactly as Seek predicted, Quacy suddenly felt his life was easier. The calls from angry suppliers stopped. He considered this a good sign. He thought the news that he was going to collaborate with Okafor Legacy Holdings had scared the suppliers off.

He was very wrong.

Feeling the pressure decrease, he decided it was time to take the last step. He had to secure Zelica—not on a business level, but personal.

He knew the old Zelica was weak, forgiving, and still loved him.

He sent a bouquet of white roses, her favorites back then, to the Cascade mansion with a note:

I know I was wrong. Let’s talk like old times. Dinner at our usual spot.

Zelica almost threw the flowers away, but Seek stopped her.

“Go,” he said. “Let him dig his own grave deeper.”

That night, Zelica went to the upscale restaurant where Quacy had once proposed to her.

He was already waiting. He looked impeccable. He ordered the most expensive wine.

“Zel,” he said, taking her hand across the table.

She allowed it. Her skin felt cold.

“I ask for your forgiveness.”

Zelica just looked at him, waiting.

“I know I was very wrong,” Quacy continued. His eyes got misty. His performance was perfect. “Aniya, she is just a toy. I was pressured. Zel, business is hard. And you—you were busy with your mother. I felt lonely.”

“So it was my fault? Was it my fault?” Zelica asked. Her voice was calm.