His Cruel Scheme, Her Sweet Revenge

After her husband Christian Sanchez caught her in bed with another man, Marjorie Pruitt spent every waking moment dreaming of getting him back.

Just one week after the divorce, she burned through a billion dollars, sending crate after crate of gifts to Christian's villa, begging him to forgive her.

By the second week, she went further. She orchestrated an auction where she put herself on the block, gambling everything on the hope that Christian still had a shred of love left for her.

And she won the bet.

When Christian stormed in and snatched her away from the ruthless youngest son of the James family, Marjorie threw herself into his arms without caring who was watching, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Christian, I knew it. I knew you still loved me. Please believe me, everything before was a misunderstanding!"

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "I believe you. But Marge, this whole thing hit me hard. Give me a little more time. Six months, and then we'll remarry. Okay?"

The joy of having him back consumed her entirely. She didn't care what he said. She agreed to everything.

After they got back together, she devoted herself to him even more than before.

She dissolved her own company. She moved into the new villa Christian had bought her on the hillside. Every day, she cooked, she cleaned, and then she sat on the sofa and watched the sun set through the windows, waiting for Christian to come home.

Her entire world shrank until it revolved around him alone.

Even though he only came home once a week. Even though her best friend warned her she was no different from a bird in a gilded cage. Marjorie kept playing the role of the devoted girlfriend.

She had already lost Christian once because of her own mistake. She refused to lose him again.

Until the day she decided, on a whim, to bring him lunch at his office. And overheard his conversation with one of his buddies.

"A Bridget Quinn at home, a Marjorie Pruitt on the side. The wife becomes the mistress, and the mistress becomes the wife. Christian, you really are something else."

On the other side of the door, Christian twirled a pen between his fingers, a lazy, amused smile playing across his face. He let the silence hang before finally speaking.

"Bridget's proud. She'd never agree to be with me unless I divorced first. And Marge loves me so desperately she'd never agree to a divorce either. So I came up with the little caught-in-bed scenario."

Inside the room, his friend Kieran Shepherd sucked in a sharp breath. "Weren't you afraid Marjorie would find out the truth and actually leave you?"

"She won't."

Christian's voice was absolute. "I handpicked that man. No parents, no money, nothing. After it was done, I paid him twenty-five million and shipped him overseas. He's never coming back."

"As for Marge... it's not that I don't love her. But watching her go from that proud woman she used to be to this meek, careful little thing she is now, there's a certain novelty to it. Whenever I get tired of Bridget, I'll remarry Marge."

The lunch box in Marjorie's hand slowly dropped to her side. Her heart felt like it was being crushed in a fist, squeezed and twisted until she couldn't breathe.

A month ago, she had been invited to a charity gala. Someone kept filling her glass. When she woke up, she was lying in bed next to a stranger.

She grabbed her clothes and tried to leave. The next second, the door swung open, and Christian stood there, his face a mask of agony.

Marjorie would never forget the way he looked at her that night.

Rage. Disbelief. Despair. Hatred. Each one a blade driven straight into her chest.

Christian asked for a divorce.

It didn't matter that the hospital exam proved nothing had happened that night. He was set on leaving her.

She had believed he was too heartbroken to stay. She never imagined that from the very beginning, he had directed the entire thing himself.

Marjorie walked out of the Sanchez Group building like a ghost, every memory she shared with Christian flooding back.

They had grown up together. Childhood sweethearts.

When she was sixteen and kidnapped, Christian fought to pull her from the hands of her captors. His right leg was shattered in the process, and he never cried once. The first thing he did when he woke up was hold her face and tell her not to be scared.

When she was eighteen and bombed her SATs, Christian stayed up the entire night consoling her. Then he voided his own college applications and repeated the year alongside her.

After her parents died in an accident, Christian laid every asset he owned at her feet and proposed.

He said he would protect her for the rest of his life.

But the man who loved her that much had changed his heart three years into their marriage.

Rain poured from the sky without warning, cold water striking her face, snapping her out of her grief in an instant.

Christian was the one who betrayed her first. And now he thought he could keep two women on a string. She would not give him the satisfaction.

She ran through the rain all the way to the black market and found the man everyone knew as Scarface. She wired him ten million on the spot.

"Find the man who attended the charity gala a month ago and took twenty-five million from Christian Sanchez. I don't care what it takes. Make him go public with the whole deal."

Christian had destroyed her reputation to stage an affair so he could cheat. Fine. She would return the favor and hand him a gift of his own: complete and utter ruin.

Scarface promised to have everything handled within a week, and Marjorie finally let herself breathe.

She went straight to the immigration office to file her paperwork, transferred every asset under her name overseas, and booked a flight to Switzerland departing in seven days.

Once all of that was in motion, Marjorie hired a private investigator and turned her attention to the woman named Bridget Quinn.

When she learned that Bridget hadn't even graduated college yet and had a thug ex-boyfriend, a cold smile crossed her face.

She may have debased herself begging Christian to stay during those desperate months, but that didn't mean she was someone who could be pushed around.

Bridget Quinn had the nerve to come for her. Fine. She'd show the little homewrecker exactly how badly that decision could end.

The next morning, Marjorie put on full makeup, stepped into her tallest stilettos, and with the photos the PI had sent clutched in her hand, tracked down Bridget's ex-boyfriend, Mason James.

"Bridget dumped you for another man with money. You really going to just swallow that?"

She slapped the photos down on the table as she spoke.

They fanned out across the surface, every single one showing Bridget and Christian in intimate poses.

Even though she'd already decided she was done loving Christian Sanchez, the sight of those photos still twisted something deep in her chest.

She knew now. The husband who had once loved her like she was his whole world had changed his heart long ago, right under her nose.

Mason had been lounging in a bamboo chair in the yard, half-asleep. When this strange woman barged in, irritation flickered across his face. But the moment his eyes landed on those photos, the irritation ignited into white-hot rage that shot straight to the top of his skull.

"That lying piece of"

He didn't even finish lighting the cigarette between his fingers. He snatched up the photos and bolted toward Bridget's university.

Marjorie felt the gust of wind as he tore past her. She watched his retreating figure and let the corner of her mouth curve upward.

She'd done her homework before coming.

Bridget's parents favored sons over daughters and had cut off her living expenses the moment she graduated high school. To pay for college, Bridget had deliberately seduced Mason James, a street thug, and under the guise of being his girlfriend, let him cover four full years of tuition.

Once she was certain the money was secured, Bridget dropped Mason without a second thought, reinvented herself as a tough, self-made girl from a poor background, and set her sights on Christian Sanchez.

Any of this could have been uncovered with the slightest effort on Christian's part.

Marjorie didn't know whether Christian genuinely had no idea, or whether he simply craved the thrill of something new and didn't care enough to look.

But none of that mattered anymore.

She was leaving Christian Sanchez behind. A new place, a new life, a clean start.

Mason moved fast. He stormed into Northgate University like a man possessed and spread Bridget's private photos all over campus.

Bridget was furious and frantic, trying to stop him, but Mason slapped her across the face. More than once.

Marjorie lay on the sofa in the villa, watching the video her PI had sent, and felt nothing but satisfaction.

But before the laugh could leave her throat, a news notification popped up on her screen.

She tapped it on instinct. The wall of headlines hit her like ice water down her spine.

BREAKING: Leaked footage of Christian Sanchez's ex-wife cheating!

Pruitt Group CEO dissolves company connected to affair scandal?

Marjorie Pruitt caught with younger man, entangled at private club all night!

Her hands shook as she tapped one of the headlines. The surveillance footage filled her screen: her, clothes disheveled, lying on a bed with a man she didn't recognize. That night.

For a moment, Marjorie forgot how to breathe.

The video was spreading at tens of thousands of shares per second. Her phone exploded with calls and messages. Friends, business partners, relatives. Everyone demanding to know what was going on.

She powered the phone off and clutched her head in both hands. The memory of that night surged back, vivid and suffocating, and something inside her cracked.

She was the victim. So who had leaked this footage?

The next second, the sound of a key turning in the front door lock cut through the silence.

Marjorie lifted her head, numb. Christian stood in the doorway, watching her with a smile that wasn't quite a smile.

"Marjorie, when you were busy hurting Bridget, did you ever stop to think about what would happen to you?"

Marjorie's entire body went rigid.

When it registered that Christian was the one who had leaked the videos, she lunged toward him, staring at his face in raw disbelief.

"Have you lost your mind? Christian, you cheated first! All I did was teach your mistress a lesson. What gives you the right to do this to me?"

She raised her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist mid-swing.

"Marjorie, I think you've got it backwards. You slept with someone else first. Bridget and I only got together after that."

"I posted the video as a reminder: you were the one who made a mistake. You have no right to go after Bridget."

His grip was crushing. A red welt bloomed across her wrist almost instantly.

It hurt. But not as much as her heart.

She couldn't understand it. He had orchestrated this entire charade for another woman, deceived everyone around them. How had he managed to deceive himself in the process?

If she hadn't overheard that conversation between him and someone else, would she have spent the rest of her life in the dark, drowning in guilt that was never hers to carry?

Marjorie bit down on her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. The tears didn't fall.

Then she heard him continue:

"Bridget was slapped for no reason. Her reputation at school has been ruined. You're coming with me to Northgate University right now to give her a proper apology."

"Absolutely not. I"

She tried to refuse, but he cut her off before she could finish.

"Then I'll take the video to your parents' grave and let them judge for themselves whether their precious daughter wronged her husband first."

"Oh, and if I remember right, your parents preferred peace and quiet when they were alive. Their ashes are buried deeper than most, aren't they? I might have to dig them up so they can get a good look at the footage."

Every word died in Marjorie's throat. She stared at Christian as if seeing him for the very first time.

Losing her parents was the wound that never closed. She still woke in the dead of night, clutching her pillow, sobbing from the sheer weight of missing them.

And every time, Christian had been the one to pull her into his arms and hold her until the crying stopped.

Now he was threatening to desecrate their ashes?

For another woman?

Marjorie stared at him, blank and still. Then she laughed. The sound was hollow, soaked in despair.

"Fine. I'll do it."

She spent the entire afternoon kneeling on the grounds of Northgate University, repeating the words "I'm sorry" to Bridget over and over again.

Her cheeks were already swollen high. Christian had held Bridget's hand and delivered each slap himself, one after another.

Bridget had been slapped five times. Christian demanded Marjorie repay it tenfold.

The first slap brought humiliation.

The second brought a pain that split her chest wide open.

By the third, all she could feel was confusion. How had the man who once loved her so deeply become this?

By the last slap, only hatred remained.

She hated Christian. She hated herself more for ever loving him.

When the ordeal was finally over, Marjorie dragged her exhausted body toward the exit. Someone grabbed her wrist.

She turned. Bridget stood behind her, triumph painted across every feature.

This was the first time Marjorie had faced Bridget directly. The sophomore held a smile between her teeth, eyes traveling up and down Marjorie's battered form.

"Did you really think those little tricks would drive me away from Christian? He was willing to divorce you for me. That alone proves I've already won."

"You. Lost."

Looking at the pride on Bridget's face, Marjorie saw a ghost of her former self.

She had once believed that having Christian's love meant having the whole world.

Reality had taught her otherwise. Christian's love wasn't even worth the trash it belonged in.

A man who could cheat would never be faithful to anyone.

But Marjorie couldn't be bothered to explain that to Bridget. She let out a quiet laugh and turned to leave, but Bridget leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper only the two of them could hear: "If you don't walk away from Christian on your own, I will keep framing you. Again and again, until you're dead."

The instant the words left her mouth, Bridget let out a piercing scream and toppled backward.

Marjorie stood perfectly still, watching Bridget's one-woman show, watching Christian sprint over with panic etched across his face. She was so tired she could barely feel anything at all.

So when Christian tenderly helped Bridget to her feet and turned toward Marjorie with his mouth already opening, she raised her hand and slapped herself across her own swollen cheek.

"I didn't push her. But you won't believe that. I've been punished. So may I leave now?"

The fury in Christian's chest guttered out the moment he met her eyes. They were empty. Completely, utterly empty.

His hand drifted to his chest without thinking. Something in there felt hollow.

After returning from Northgate University, Marjorie slept for two full days at the villa.

She was exhausted.

The hatred for Christian, the pain of the past, the fury of betrayal. These tangled emotions wound around her heart like a thousand threads pulled tight, leaving her barely able to breathe.

When she finally woke, Marjorie stretched and drew two heavy circles on the calendar.

Two more days. In two days, Scarface would deliver on his promise, and she'd have a front-row seat to the show.

By then, Christian's reputation in this country would be in ruins, and she'd be settling into a new life in Switzerland, one that was entirely her own.

The thought alone made her feel lighter than she had in months.

She ate a quick breakfast and started packing.

The villa was full of gifts Christian had given her over the years.

She'd once treated them like reasons to keep living. After their "reconciliation," she'd rushed to move every last one into Hillside Villa, where she could look at them daily, savoring the memories.

Now, the sight of them turned her stomach.

A yellow teddy bear, his gift for her tenth birthday. Marjorie built a fire in the backyard and tossed it into the flames.

A blue preserved flower arrangement, the token he'd given her when they first got together. He'd told her his love would last as long as those flowers. Marjorie let out a cold laugh, picked up a pair of scissors, and cut the arrangement in half.

A one-carat diamond ring, his proposal gift. Marjorie held it up, turned it once in the light, and flicked it into the stream behind the villa.

By the time she'd finished disposing of the trash, it was already afternoon. Marjorie turned back toward the villa to pack her own luggage and found Christian standing in the living room.

He seemed to have just arrived. He hadn't even taken off his coat.

Marjorie didn't know why he was here. She took an instinctive step back.

"What do you want?"

Before the words had fully left her mouth, he pulled her into his arms.

The familiar scent of sandalwood filled her nose. She used to love it. Now, laced with the unmistakable trace of a woman's perfume, it made her want to gag.

"Marjorie, did you forget? I come to see you once a week."

His voice dripped with practiced tenderness. She couldn't stand another second of it. She shoved him hard and slapped him across the face.

"You cheated on me, and you still expect us to play house?"

"Why not?"

Christian turned his head with the blow. A red mark bloomed across his cheek, but he didn't look angry.

"You slept with another man, and I forgave you, didn't I? Marjorie, as long as we love each other, we can always be together. You're still living in this villa. You haven't moved out. That proves you still have feelings for me, doesn't it?"

"I know Bridget's existence upsets you. But in circles like ours, who only has one partner their whole life? Bridget and I are just dating. In my heart, Mrs. Sanchez will always be you."

His arm tightened around her as he spoke. Marjorie could barely breathe against his grip, but inside, she was laughing.

She hadn't moved out because every property under her name had been converted to liquid assets and transferred overseas.

She couldn't be bothered to rent another place, so she'd stayed here to sort through the leftover garbage.

As for the cheating, that had been his doing from start to finish. And now he had the audacity to dress it up like some noble arrangement. In two days, he'd pay the price he owed.

But none of that was something she could tell him.

Just as she was about to struggle free, his phone rang.

It was Bridget. Christian didn't bother stepping away. He answered right in front of her.

"Christian, I miss you."

Bridget's syrupy voice poured through the speaker, ringing clear through the empty villa.

Marjorie had been wondering how to get rid of him. Hearing that voice, she grabbed his sleeve and gestured toward the door, urging him to go.

She was trying to push him out. But through Christian's eyes, it looked like Marjorie was being accommodating.

He gave a self-satisfied nod, hung up the call, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

"See, Marjorie? That's the grace of a real wife. Don't worry. In my heart, you'll always come first."

She watched him leave, eager as a dog called to heel. She didn't feel sad. But something gnawed at the edges of her calm, a low hum of unease she couldn't place.

She went back to the bedroom to finish packing. It wasn't until she saw the empty jewelry box that she understood where the feeling had come from.

Her mother's jade bracelet was gone.

The only thing her mother had ever left her.

At the same moment, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number had sent her a voice message.

Marjorie tapped it open. Bridget's gloating voice spilled from the speaker.

"I threw a little tantrum with Christian and told him to bring me the thing you care about most. And guess what? He did. Your mommy's bracelet is so pretty, Marjorie. It's just a shame that something like this... breaks so easily."

Marjorie's entire body went rigid. Then every ounce of rage she'd been holding found its center, surging straight to the top of her skull until her scalp prickled and her vision blurred.

She didn't even stop to change out of her slippers. She tore out the front door, flagged down the first car she saw, and told the driver to take her to Christian's villa.

But when she arrived, the housekeeper told her Christian had already left with Bridget for an auction.

There was no time to catch her breath. She turned around and headed for the auction house.

On the way, Bridget's texts kept coming, one after another, each one more vicious than the last.

You love auctions, don't you? You were willing to auction yourself off just to win Christian back. So how about I put your mother's things on the block too?

Marjorie's fingers tightened around her phone until the case creaked. She stared at the words on the screen as if she could burn a hole straight through it.

She urged the driver to go faster. A second later, a truck barreled in from the right and slammed into the car, sending it skidding over forty feet.

The airbag deployed. The back of Marjorie's head cracked against the window, and the world tilted sideways, spinning.

Something warm slid down her face. Blood dripped onto her white dress, one drop at a time, blooming like dark, lurid flowers.

None of it mattered. She unbuckled her seatbelt, shoved the door open, and stumbled out, staggering toward the auction house.

The sight of her drew stares. Someone recognized her as the woman from the leaked affair video, and the whispers started, carried to her ears on the summer breeze.

"Isn't that the former Mrs. Sanchez? The one who cheated? She looks like she's lost it after getting dumped."

"She's probably gone crazy. How embarrassing..."

The gossip cut into her like a blade, slow and deliberate.

The auction house was only a few hundred yards away, but it felt like the longest distance she had ever walked in her life.

She made it through the doors just as the auctioneer was presenting her mother's bracelet. The bidding had already reached a hundred million dollars.

"Two hundred million!"

She screamed it with everything she had. Every head in the room turned toward her.

The auctioneer faltered, clearly not expecting a bracelet that looked so ordinary to command this kind of price. Even his voice wavered.

"Two hundred million, going once."

"Two hundred million, going twice."

"Two hundred million, going three times..."

The gavel was about to fall when a paddle shot up from the audience.

"Five hundred million!"

Marjorie's head snapped toward the voice.

Bridget sat there with one eyebrow raised, a thin smile on her lips. "I changed my mind. I want to buy it back. That's allowed, isn't it?"

Bridget was a college sophomore who couldn't even pay her own tuition without conning someone. There was no way she had that kind of money.

Marjorie's gaze shifted to the man beside her.

Christian had already seen her. He let go of Bridget's waist, rose from his seat, and walked toward Marjorie.

"Marge."

"Today's Bridget's birthday. I promised her I'd support whatever she wanted to do. So just let her have this one, okay?"

In that instant, Marjorie was certain that if rage could take physical form, the fire in her eyes would have burned straight through him.

"That bracelet is MINE! What gives you the right to take what's mine and use it to impress another woman?"

She shoved him away from her with every ounce of strength she had left, then grabbed a paddle from a nearby seat and screamed, "Six hundred million!"

Christian hadn't expected the push. He stumbled backward and barely caught himself on a chair.

The softness in his eyes when he'd first approached was gone. Only irritation remained.

"Marge, and here I was praising you this afternoon for being gracious. Turns out it was all an act. It's just a bracelet. It's Bridget's birthday. I'm not going to let her be unhappy."

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times. A second later, Bridget squealed behind him.

"Christian! You just transferred ten billion dollars to me? I love you so much!"

The moment Bridget made her announcement, the entire room erupted.

Marjorie stared at Christian in disbelief. He was leaning down, pressing a kiss to Bridget's forehead.

"Something came up at the office. I need to head back." He straightened, his voice casual. "Here's ten billion to play with at the auction. Bid on whatever catches your eye. Don't hold back."

And then he left. The crowd's gazes shifted. Some looked at Bridget with naked envy. Most looked at Marjorie with contempt.

"She's already the ex-wife. Why is she even here, making a scene in front of the new girlfriend?"

"Like a leech that won't peel off..."

Marjorie clenched her fists so hard her nails broke the skin of her palms. The pain was sharp, grounding.

She'd already transferred the bulk of her assets overseas. The liquid funds she had left totaled one and a half billion. Nothing compared to the ten billion Christian had just handed Bridget like pocket change.

But she couldn't let Bridget see that.

The bracelet was the only thing her mother had left her. The only thing. She would not let it fall into the hands of someone that vile.

She drew a slow breath and forced her voice steady. "Seven hundred million."

Before the echo faded, Bridget fired back. "Eight hundred million."

They went back and forth, the numbers climbing past a billion, past twelve hundred million, past fourteen hundred million.

When Marjorie called out one and a half billion, she locked her eyes on Bridget and braced for whatever came next.

Bridget yawned. She actually yawned, stretching lazily in her seat. "Boring. I'm done. It's just a tacky old bracelet."

She stood, waving for the handler to deliver it to Marjorie.

Marjorie rushed forward to take it.

Her fingers had barely closed around the jade when Bridget's foot shot out.

Marjorie pitched forward, her body beyond her control. The bracelet flew from her hands, struck the floor, and split in two with a clean, terrible crack.

"Oh my God, she spent all that money and broke it herself!"

"Maybe she should see a doctor first? With all that blood on her head, she can't even walk straight. Brain damage, maybe?"

Bridget's laughter cut through the noise like glass. Marjorie stared at the two halves of the bracelet on the floor, rage and grief knotting so tight in her chest she couldn't breathe.

It was the only thing her mother had left her. And Bridget had destroyed it.

"Bridget Quinn, you psychopath!"

She bit down until she tasted blood and dragged herself off the ground. She hadn't even found her footing when Bridget's heel slammed into her side and sent her crashing back down.

Her forehead struck the edge of a step. The old wound from the car accident split open against the new one, and her vision went black at the edges, flickering in and out.

Then she heard Bridget's voice ring out across the hall, bright with excitement:

"It's my birthday today! You all heard, right? Christian just wired me ten billion dollars. Anyone who lands a hit on Marjorie Pruitt gets ten million. Limited supply, first come first served!"

The crowd surged to their feet like a dam had broken. Fists and shoes came from every direction.

Marjorie reached out, trying to shield the two halves of the bracelet with her body, but the mob pressed in from all sides, trampling over her.

She watched the bracelet get crushed underfoot. Four pieces. Six pieces. Fragments too small to pick up.

Her head, her back, her legs. Every part of her was covered in shoe prints.

She didn't know how long it lasted. At some point the beating stopped and the crowd drifted away, leaving Marjorie alone on the floor of the empty hall.

Her hands were slick with blood where they'd been stomped on. Her eyes had swollen nearly shut, reduced to slits.

She gathered every ounce of strength she had left and stretched her arm toward her phone, a few feet away. She needed to call the police.

The screen lit up with push notifications instead.

BREAKING: Sanchez Group CEO Christian Sanchez Exposed as Serial Cheater, Caught with College Student!

How Master Manipulator Christian Sanchez Turned His Own Wife into "The Other Woman"

Marjorie froze. Her eyes flicked to the timestamp.

The phone rang. Scarface. His voice was rough with anger.

"Ms. Pruitt, I went ahead and leaked everything on Christian Sanchez. A full day ahead of schedule. I couldn't stomach waiting any longer, not for a man that disgusting. I'm wiring back every cent you paid me. Consider it my public service."

His gruff voice echoed through the empty auction hall. Something warm flickered in Marjorie's chest.

She called herself an ambulance. After they treated her injuries at the hospital, she slipped out into the night, took a cab to the airport, and changed her ticket to the next red-eye to Switzerland.

Before the plane took off, Marjorie checked Sanchez Group's stock price one last time.

The screen was a wall of green, plummeting so fast it almost hurt to look at. A cold smile crossed her face. She snapped her SIM card in half and dropped the pieces into the trash.

She hoped Christian enjoyed his parting gift.

Sanchez Group had a billion-dollar contract that had just gone sideways. Christian had rushed back to the office from the auction specifically to deal with it.

First it was errors in the contract figures. No sooner had he resolved those than he was informed the company's cash flow was insufficient to cover operations.

When he heard the news, Christian slammed his fist into his desk so hard it left a dent in the surface.

"Sanchez Group is a corporate empire. How the hell does a company this size fumble basic details?"

He turned his gaze on his assistant. "Suspend the project lead immediately. And pull the quarterly financials. I want them on my desk."

A suspicion had already taken root in his mind: someone inside the company was sabotaging them.

It wasn't the first time a mole had surfaced. Sanchez Group was powerful, and powerful companies bred envy. There was never a shortage of people who wanted to see them fall.

But back then, he'd had Marjorie by his side. Her Pruitt Group had been strong enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sanchez Group. With Marjorie in his corner, a crisis like this would have been nothing for the two of them to handle together.

Now, though, Marjorie had dissolved Pruitt Group to chase after him, and he was fighting alone. He was juggling the hunt for the mole with one hand while his partners bombarded him with increasingly aggressive messages with the other. It was enough to make his head split.

Mr. Sanchez, the project is ready to break ground. What about the funding?

Christian Sanchez, is a company your size really going to default?

Christian Sanchez, was all that power of yours really just Ms. Pruitt's doing? If I'd known, I would've partnered with her instead.

The way they addressed him shifted from respectful to dismissive, and then to outright contempt.

Christian had never been subjected to this kind of humiliation. He wanted nothing more than to crush every last one of them, make them vanish from Northgate City overnight. But the problem had to be solved first. He swallowed his fury and called Marjorie.

He would borrow some money from her. She had plenty, and she loved him so much she would never refuse.

He called five times. Every single one rang out unanswered.

The messages from his partners kept flooding in, and by now they had escalated to personal attacks.

Christian knew he couldn't afford to wait any longer. He dispatched his secretary to the auction venue to find Marjorie, and simultaneously dialed another business partner, a man named Abbott.

Christian still had some money of his own. If Abbott could lend him a bit more, it would at least be enough to plug the gap and keep the project moving.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. Abbott's voice came through from the other end.

"Mr. Sanchez, what can I do for you?"

Unlike the barrage of insults from the others, Abbott's tone was eager to please, practically fawning. Christian found it soothing. His own voice softened considerably.

"I've got a project on my hands. Sixty-forty profit split. Interested?"

He didn't mention the cash flow crisis. He simply assumed that given how desperately Abbott had always tried to curry favor with him, this offer alone would be enough to have the man falling over himself to help.

After all, Abbott's company was an ant next to Sanchez Group.

And sure enough, the moment Christian finished speaking, Abbott scrambled to agree. "Absolutely, absolutely, Mr. Sanchez. Just say the word."

Even through the phone, Christian could practically see Abbott nodding his head like a bobblehead.

Half the tension drained from his chest. He was already telling himself that he could weather this storm alone, no help from Marjorie needed, when Abbott's voice came through again, tinged with surprise and hesitation. "Hold on, Mr. Sanchez. I think I might need to reconsider."

Before Christian could get a word in, Abbott hung up.

Christian stared at the screen, stunned. Before he could even process his anger, his assistant's panicked shout cut through the office: "Mr. Sanchez, this is bad! Check what's trending right now! Negative stories about you are everywhere. Sanchez Group stock just hit the limit down!"