He pulled a card out of his wallet and tossed it onto the table as if giving alms.

The door slammed shut with a bang, and Cameron drove away.

I stood in the empty living room, staring at the shopping card with a spending limit of only 100 dollars.

I did not understand how things had come to this.

I had once been a renowned genius architectural designer in the industry, yet at some point I had ended up living like a parasitic vine that could only survive by clinging to him.

I was even subjected to his strict control when it came to spending the money I had earned through my own hard work.

I turned and walked into the study.

Cameron had been an extremely cautious person, and he had a safe at home where he kept the company's core secrets for the past few years.

He thought I didn’t know the password.

Because to him, I had been a foolish woman who only knew how to draw plans and understood nothing about numbers or corporate operations.

But he had forgotten that I was an architect.

My sensitivity to numbers had quickly allowed me to discover that the password was *#0826.

I had always thought the password would be our wedding anniversary, until I saw that Twitter post yesterday.

I saw the line. [Thank you, Cameron, for your indulgent love. The 1-million-dollar "Wendy Art Exhibition" was the best birthday gift I ever received!]

The symbols *# were Cameron's habit, and 0826 was Wendy's birthday.

I turned the dial, and the safe opened.

Inside lay a thick document, with the cover reading. Asset Transfer and Trust Establishment Plan.

The document was very thick and entirely in Spanish, but it posed no difficulty for me.

I flipped open the first page, and the blood in my body froze instantly.

This had been a meticulously designed trap.

Cameron had been transferring the core assets of the Lister Group—including those parcels of land and my design patents—into the name of an offshore company registered in the Cayman Islands.

And the beneficiary of that offshore company had been listed as Wendy.

What shocked me even more was another document titled. Risk Assumption Agreement for the Summit Project.

In the column for the project's legal representative, the signature was my name.

The land for the Summit Project had serious ownership disputes and might even have involved illegal land use.

Once the scandal broke, I, as the legal representative, would have faced at least ten years in prison.

And he would have taken the assets and his new lover and fled far away.

I clutched the documents in my hands, my knuckles turning white.

So that was it.

No wonder he had kept urging me to produce the drawings, and no wonder he had insisted that I be the person in charge of this project.

It wasn’t that he trusted me—he had planned to squeeze out my last bit of value and then send me to prison.

Buzz—

My phone vibrated with a WhatsApp message from Cameron.

[Are the drawings finished? Wendy said she wants to look at your designs and learn from a senior's thinking. I'll bring her home for dinner tonight—prepare a few dishes.]

He still wanted to see my designs?

He wanted to bring the assistant home for dinner?

And expected me to cook for the woman who had taken a million dollars?

He must have been dreaming.

I took a deep breath, backed up all the documents, uploaded them to an encrypted cloud drive, and then restored the safe to its original state.

In the afternoon, I went to the hospital.

My father had not woken up yet, with many tubes inserted into his body, a sight that made my heart ache.

I sat by the bed, holding his withered hand. "Dad, I'm sorry. I’ve been stupid and failed to see Cameron’s true colors. Don't worry. Your medical expenses, and everything I earned through my own hard work, I’ll make sure he pays me back double."

I went online and sold some of the luxury handbags I had bought, earning more than 10 thousand dollars in total.

I transferred all of this money into the hospital's account and hired the best medical team and private caregivers.

After leaving the hospital, I dialed a number that had long been buried in my contacts.

James Grey, my senior from university, was now a partner at the largest law firm in Jelaston and also the legal advisor to a company that was Cameron's sworn rival.

He picked up almost immediately.

A surprised voice came from the other end of the line. "Nina? Is that you? Ever since you married Cameron, it's like you vanished from the world."

"James, I need a favor," I said, watching the streets streak past outside the car window, my gaze cold.

"Go on."

"Help me investigate an offshore company. Also, I want to initiate property preservation against all of Cameron's personal assets."

James was silent for a moment. "Are there problems in your marriage? This is a major move. Have you thought it through? Cameron is a rising star in the construction industry right now."

"A rising star?" I sneered. "He wouldn't be for much longer."

After hanging up, I drove to the supermarket to buy groceries.

I had decided that I would still cook the final dinner.

Some things needed to be settled face to face, by my own hands.

At seven o'clock in the evening, the doorbell rang right on time.

Cameron stood at the door with Wendy.

Wendy was wearing the haute couture dress I had seen in a magazine, and she carried the limited-edition handbag that I had just sold off at a cheap price.

"Sorry to disturb you, Nina," she said with an innocent smile, though her eyes were full of provocation. "Cameron said your cooking is amazing, even better than a housekeeper's, and insisted on bringing me to have a try it."

Cameron had his arm around her waist, looking completely justified. "Wendy's been exhausted preparing for her art exhibition and needs some nourishment. Is dinner ready?"

I glanced at their intertwined hands and stepped aside. "It's ready. It's all on the table."

The dining room lights were bright.

The dishes were laid out on the table.

Wendy's smile froze. "This..."

"What? You don't like it?" I untied my apron and casually tossed it onto a chair.

"These dishes are filled with the nutrients you need to keep your game up."

The atmosphere immediately became awkward, and Cameron's face darkened. "Nina, have you lost your mind?"

"Lost my mind?"

I pulled out a chair and sat down, pouring myself a glass of plain water.

"Mr. Lister, where was that coming from? Didn't you ask me to prepare the meal? This is what I can offer. If you don’t like it, then you’re free to leave."

Wendy's eyes reddened immediately as she shrank into Cameron's arms. "Cameron, did I do something wrong? Nina seems to hate me... Is it because of that 1 million? I can give the money back..."

It was obvious what Wendy was trying to do.

Cameron patted her back affectionately, then turned to glare at me. "Nina! Apologize to Wendy right now! That 1 million was a company strategic investment. As a senior executive, how can you be so narrow-minded?"

"Strategic investment?"

I took out my phone, opened the screenshot of Wendy's Twitter post, and held it up in front of him.

"Mr. Lister, since when does a strategic investment involve funding an intern's personal art exhibition? And this intern—she's employed for three months, clocked in fewer than 20 days, and her only 'achievement' was grinding coffee and giving you massages in the CEO's office?"

Cameron slapped my phone out of my hand. "Enough, Nina! What’s up with the sarcasm?"

The phone hit the carpet with a dull thud.

Wendy suddenly laughed. She peeked out from Cameron's embrace, her gaze turning contemptuous. "Nina, actually, you shouldn't blame Cameron. Men always like something new. Your figure, and those outdated design drawings of yours—Cameron got tired of them long ago. My art exhibition can bring customer traffic to the company. What can you bring? All you know how to do is reach out for money to save your damned father, right?"

Boom—

A string in my mind snapped.

I absolutely could not tolerate such provocation.

I stood up and picked up a cup of hot coffee.

"Stop—" Cameron realized something was wrong and tried to intervene.

Splash!

An entire cup of hot coffee was already splashed accurately over both of them.

Wendy screamed and jumped up, instantly turning into a drenched mess, with coffee all over her.

Cameron's shirt was soaked as well, leaving him utterly disheveled.

"Nina, are you out of your mind?" Cameron raised his hand to strike me.

I grabbed his wrist.

I stared into his eyes, my voice cold. "Cameron, that was for my father. You were right—I shouldn't have been small-minded. From now on, I'll let you know what a truly 'big picture' looks like."

I flung his hand aside and pointed at the door. "Now, take your trash and get out of my house."

"Your house?" Cameron laughed angrily. "This house is in my name too!"

"Is it?" I took a photocopy out of my bag and threw it in his face. "The down payment for this house was my premarital property, and every mortgage payment came from my salary account. Under the new law, I hold a 70% share of this house. If anyone's leaving, it's you."

Cameron picked up the paper from the floor, his expression changing.

He hadn't expected that the wife who only buried herself in drawing plans and supposedly had no concept of money had kept a trump card.

"Fine!" Cameron gritted his teeth, stripped off the jacket still dripping with coffee, and hurled it to the ground.

"Nina, you'll regret this. Without the Lister Group, you're nothing. I'd like to see who would still use you once you’ve left me!"

He dragged Wendy—who was still screaming—toward the door.

At the doorway, he stopped, turned back, and said in a sinister voice, "Oh, by the way, the liquidated damages for the Summit Project are 600 thousand dollars. If the drawings aren't delivered by tomorrow, be ready to sell your father to pay it back."

The door slammed shut.

I slowly sat back down in the chair and picked up my phone.

The screen was cracked, but it still worked.

I dialed James's number. "James, help me send out a lawyer's letter..."

Then I contacted the real client behind the Summit Project.

Cameron had thought I was his prey.

Little did he know that I was one step ahead of him.

The Summit Project was a "floating ecology" structure whose core patents I had already registered three years earlier.

He wanted to use my patents to scam money and ruin lives, but I wasn't about to let him off so easily.