Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English
Synopsis
Tags: Breakup Invoice, Cheating Ex Exposed, Wedding Smackdown, Corporate Revenge
My ex-fiancé just mailed me a wedding invitation, along with a $500,000 invoice for what he called "Relationship Depreciation."
He left me a message on SnapChat:
"Chloe, this covers the three years you freeloaded off me. Pay up, or I’ll make a scene at your new company."
Staring at the screen, I actually burst out laughing.
When he started his business three years ago, I sold the old house my grandmother left me and gave him $300,000 as seed money.
Now that he struck it rich with my money, he turned around, got engaged to a billionaire's heiress, and tried to kick me to the curb like trash.
The audacity of this man was truly off the charts.
Taking a deep breath, I took a screenshot of the invoice and sent it to my current boss—who also happened to be my boyfriend, Ethan Vance.
Ethan only replied with three words: "Wait for me."
A week from now would be Chad’s lavish wedding with the heiress, Gia Sterling.
It was about time to settle our accounts once and for all.
After Ethan sent those three words, my phone went silent.
I stared at the screen for ten minutes, while Chad bombarded me with three more messages on SnapChat.
"Chloe, stop playing dead. Five hundred thousand. Not a penny less."
"I know how much you have in your account. You only have $8,600 left in your checking. Figure out the rest yourself."
"Your new firm deals with medical devices, right? I happen to know a few of your top clients. Want me to give them a call and chat about your character?"
I turned my phone face down on the desk and took a sip of coffee.
Zoey from HR poked her head in. "Chloe, Mr. Vance wants you in his office."
I put down my mug.
Pushing open Ethan’s office door, I saw him standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, on a phone call.
From the few lines I caught, he was talking to an attorney.
He glanced back at me and tapped his index finger against the files on his mahogany desk.
I walked over and flipped through them.
Page one: Chad’s company financial cash flow over the past three years.
Page two: A copy of my bank transfer receipt from when I sold my grandma’s property and wired him the seed money.
Page three: His company's official registration, where the shareholder registry clearly listed only two names: Chad Brooks and Gia Sterling, split seventy to thirty.
Page four: Screenshots of my SnapChat chat history with him.
From three years ago when he swore, "Chloe, once I make it, I’ll spend my whole life treating you like a queen,"
To three months ago when he said, "Let’s break up. Gia needs me more than you do."
Ethan ended the call and walked over, closing the folder.
"That old property you sold back then—how much is it worth now?"
"The whole area was rezoned for high-end redevelopment. My little four-hundred-square-foot place is currently appraised at around $3.2 million."
Ethan pulled open his drawer, took out a checkbook, wrote a few swift strokes, and slid the check over.
$3.2 million.
"Ethan, this..."
"It’s not for you," he cut in smoothly, flipping the check over and jotting down a note on the back. "It’s for the Sterling family."
He wrote: *Mr. Sterling, I heard your daughter is looking to acquire the Westside redevelopment parcel. I happen to hold the exclusive development rights. Consider this my investment. Coupled with Chad’s 30% equity claim, is this enough to have him kicked out penniless before the wedding?*
"When did you get the development rights?" I asked, stunned.
"The moment you forwarded me his bank statements," Ethan said, sliding the check into an envelope. "The Sterling family has been chasing that Westside land for six months. I’ve been sitting on it. Why do you think Gia is rushing to marry him? Because her father stated that Chad’s shares can only be transferred to her name after the wedding to help fund that exact acquisition."
He pressed the intercom. "Mr. Miller, you can make the move now."
That afternoon, another SnapChat arrived from Chad.
"Chloe, this is your final warning. If the wire doesn't clear by noon tomorrow, I’m putting up picket banners outside your office building. I have everything now; I don't give a damn about losing face. But can a newly hired director like you afford the scandal?"
I didn't reply.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
I answered and put it on speaker.
"Chloe, do you not understand plain English?!"
"Chad," I said calmly. "I got your $500,000 bill."
"Then wire the damn cash! Stop stalling!"
"I reviewed your breakdown," I said evenly. "You charged me three years of rent at $4,000 a month, totaling $144,000. Groceries at $2,500 a month, totaling $90,000. Utilities and maintenance at $800 a month, totaling $28,800. Along with miscellaneous fees, rounding up to an even $500,000."
"Itemized clearly. Got a problem with that?"
"No problem at all," I replied. "It's just that you seemed to have missed a line item."
"What line item?"
"Three years ago, your $300,000 startup capital came from selling my grandmother's old house. A prime spot in a top school district that got rezoned last year."
Silence fell over the other end for two full seconds.
"Whether your dump got rezoned has nothing to do with me! You gave me that money voluntarily! I didn't hold a gun to your head!"
"Right, you didn't," I laughed softly. "So I drew up a new invoice for you. $300,000 principal, calculated with three years of compounding bank interest, plus inflation and opportunity costs. I rounded it down for you."
"How much?!"
"One million dollars."Chad let out a loud sneer over the line. "Chloe, have you lost your mind? You're asking me for a million? What proof do you have? You gave that to me as a gift! You think you can take back a gift?"
"My proof is in your corporate bank statements from the month you registered the LLC," I said. "That $300,000 went from my personal account to your card, and that exact same day, you transferred it straight into the corporate account. The transfer memo clearly reads: 'Investment Capital.'"
"So what if it does?"
"Chad, 'investment capital' means I am an equity shareholder in your company."
I opened the folder Ethan had given me. "Under commercial law and corporate bylaws, I have the absolute legal right to audit every single financial record and assert shareholder equity. Would you like me to calculate your net profits over the past three years for you?"
"You f—" Chad’s voice abruptly cut off.
A woman’s sharp voice came through the receiver: "Chad, who are you talking to?"
It was Gia Sterling.
Then, the call went dead.
I set the phone down. Ethan stepped out from behind the desk and handed me a warm cup of water.
"Attorney Miller has already served the formal legal notice to the Sterlings," he said. "Tomorrow morning at nine, Gia’s father is coming here in person."
"What does he want to discuss?"
"Whether his daughter should clear up an ugly equity fraud dispute before walking down the aisle," Ethan said. "The Sterling family has been in high society for decades. They can't afford to be dragged through the mud."
At seven in the evening, the moment I arrived home, my phone started buzzing violently.
Chad had sent over a dozen voice notes on SnapChat. I didn't click a single one, only reading the final text message.
"Chloe, I never thought you could be such a shameless parasite. You latched onto Ethan Vance and think you’re untouchable now? You think I won't air all your dirty laundry? Does Ethan know what kind of desperate girl you were when you were with me?"
I texted back: "He knows."
Chad: "???"
I added: "I showed him every single text between us, from three years ago until today. Every 'Chloe, I love you,' right down to every 'Gia needs me more.' He saw it all. Including the transfers you begged from me to pay for your VIP nightclub bills—the ones you lied and said were client dinners. He saw every single one."
Chad went silent for ten minutes.
Then came his final text.
"Fine, Chloe. You want to play dirty? Let’s play. You’re more than welcome at my wedding tomorrow. Come see for yourself that no matter how hard you kick and scream, you won't stop me from marrying Gia. Audit those damn shares all you want; you won't see a single dime. The company accounts have been drained dry for months. Don't believe me? Try it."
I believed him.
I knew Chad better than anyone. He always left himself a backdoor; stripping corporate assets was completely his style.
But it didn't matter.
Ethan had said it best: to crush someone like Chad, you don't roll in the dirt with him. You stay spotless. Spotless enough to leave him no escape.
At nine the next morning, old Mr. Sterling arrived at the office.
A man in his sixties, sharp and imposing, flanked by two attorneys and an executive assistant.
Ethan waited for him in the boardroom, two dossiers laid out on the table.
One was the exclusive development agreement for the Westside parcel. The other was the comprehensive forensic audit report of Chad’s firm over the past three years.
"Uncle Arthur," Ethan stood up and shook his hand. "Long time no see."
"Ethan, what is the meaning of this?" Mr. Sterling sat down, his face unreadable. "My daughter is getting married next month. Using land rights to corner me right now—don't you think that’s in poor taste?"
"Uncle Arthur, I’m not here to talk about land rights today." Ethan slid the second file over. "I’m here to discuss the rightful ownership of the thirty percent equity in your future son-in-law's company."Mr. Sterling flipped through the audit report, his expression gradually darkening.
"This firm’s net profits over three years total nearly twenty million dollars," Ethan said. "Chad personally siphoned out roughly eight million under the guise of 'operational expenses.' Where did that money actually go? It’s all highlighted in red in that report."
"Where did it go?"
"Around two million into his ex-girlfriend’s account. Three million into his parents’ accounts. And the remaining three million was funneled into a private wealth fund under Chad’s name—with your daughter listed as the sole beneficiary."
Mr. Sterling closed the folder with a snap. "Ethan, what are you getting at?"
"What I’m saying, Uncle Arthur, is that the man your daughter is about to marry siphoned eight million dollars from an entity with an external shareholder. That fund includes the dividend rights corresponding to my girlfriend Chloe’s thirty percent equity—roughly $2.4 million."
"So you’re here to shake me down for cash?"
"I’m here to offer you a friendly warning." Ethan produced the Westside development contract. "I can cede the Westside parcel to the Sterling Group. The condition has nothing to do with real estate, but with one single matter. Postpone tomorrow’s wedding."
Mr. Sterling stared at him for half a minute.
"Ethan, do you have any idea how many high-profile guests are invited tomorrow? Do you know what the Sterling family’s reputation means in this town—"
"Uncle Arthur, do you honestly think tomorrow's wedding can proceed once Chloe submits this audit report to the federal court?" Ethan smiled faintly. "Rather than letting the elite watch a circus before packing up, postponing it voluntarily preserves your dignity."
The air in the boardroom froze for three full minutes.
Finally, Mr. Sterling stood up. "Tomorrow's wedding is postponed for one month."
Reaching the door, he looked back at me. "You’re Chloe Rivers?"
"Yes, Mr. Sterling."
He scrutinized me for two seconds. "Chad Brooks is a blind fool."
With that, he turned and left.
By that afternoon, news of the wedding postponement rippled through high society.
Chad called me over thirty times. I didn't answer a single one.
Hundreds of SnapChat messages flooded in, shifting from "Chloe, what the hell did you do?" to "You bitch, I will ruin you," and finally to "Please pick up, let's talk this through."
His last message read: "Chloe, I don't want the $500,000 anymore. Just tell Ethan to call it off, okay? I was supposed to get married tomorrow. You humiliated me in front of the entire city. Are you happy now?"
I texted back: "Chad, three years ago when you moved that capital into the company account, you typed that transfer memo yourself. You wrote the word 'Investment' with your own hands. Anything I’ve ever lost, I either let it burn or I take it back with interest. Dropping your fake invoice isn't nearly enough."
"What more do you want?!"
"I told you. One million."
Chad didn't reply.
At ten that night, I received a text from an unknown number.
"Hello, Miss Rivers. This is Gia Sterling. Tomorrow at 3:00 PM, I’ll be waiting at the rooftop café on 5th Avenue. There are some things regarding Chad that I’d like to discuss in person."
I screenshotted the text and sent it to Ethan.
Ethan replied: "Go. I’ll have Attorney Miller sit at the table next to you."
At three the next afternoon, when I walked into the café, Gia was already seated.
She wore a sharp Chanel suit with immaculate makeup. Two cups sat on her table, one already half-empty.
"Sit," she said, tilting her chin up.I took a seat.
Gia studied me for a moment, then gave a sudden, dry laugh. "You're prettier than I expected."
I said nothing.
"When Chad pursued me, he said his ex was plain, clingy, and petty."
She took a sip from her cup. "I imagined some miserable, haggard woman. I didn't expect Ethan Vance’s girlfriend to look like this."
"Did you ask me here just to rate my appearance?"
"Of course not." Gia set down her cup. "I came to tell you that tomorrow's wedding is off. My father announced a one-month postponement, but I know better—a postponement is a cancellation. The Sterling family won't take the hit, and Chad certainly can’t afford it."
"And?"
"So, I want to make a deal." She pulled a check from her designer bag and slid it across the table. "Here is one million dollars. Take the money, sign the equity release agreement, and cut all ties with Chad permanently."
I looked at the check without touching it.
Gia continued, "I know what you're after. You hate him; you want to publicly humiliate him. But Miss Rivers, one million is more than enough for a fresh start. Why drag yourself through the mud over a piece of trash? Your boyfriend is Ethan Vance now. Half the women in this city are dying to catch his eye. Doesn't bickering over these petty scraps lower your worth?"
"Miss Sterling," I finally spoke. "Do you think I'm doing this out of spite?"
"What else?"
"Three years ago, when I sold my grandmother's home and wired that money to Chad," I said, "I wrote 'Investment Capital,' not 'Gift.' Do you know why?"
Gia raised an eyebrow.
"Because before my grandmother passed away, she told me: 'Chloe, no matter who you help, keep the books clear. If you lend money, get a promissory note. If you invest, make sure your name is on the cap table.'"
"So you..."
"So I never intended to give him $300,000 for free," I said. "He assumed it was a gift because he's an arrogant narcissist."
Gia’s composure finally cracked.
"Miss Sterling, keep your million dollars to clean up Chad’s mess," I said, standing up. "That eight-million-dollar hole in his corporate books should keep him busy for a while. As for my shares, I will handle them strictly through legal channels. I won't settle for a penny less than what is legally mine."
I turned to leave, then paused after two steps.
"By the way, Miss Sterling, a word of advice. Your father managed to stall the wedding for a month, but whether he can stall a federal subpoena in a month’s time... that’s another story."
Gia called out behind me, "Chloe! Aren't you afraid Chad will actually trash your workplace? A desperate man like him will do anything!"
I didn't look back. "If he dares to show up, I'll make sure he rots in a cell. Siphoning eight million in corporate assets—you can ask your father's attorneys how many years in federal prison that carries."
Stepping out of the café, I saw Ethan’s sleek black sedan parked by the curb.
He rolled down the window. "All done?"
"All done." I slipped into the passenger seat. "Gia tried to buy me off with a million to drop the case."
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her to save it to bail out her future husband."
Ethan chuckled, shifting into gear.
My phone buzzed again.
It was one final text from Chad, just four words:
*See you tomorrow, Chloe.*
Tomorrow was the original date of the wedding.
Even though the Sterlings had announced a postponement, everyone on the high-society guest list knew about the drama.
What did Chad mean by "See you tomorrow"?
Ethan glanced at my screen and turned the steering wheel with one hand.
"Tomorrow, the Grand Plaza Hotel," he said calmly. "I had two invitations reserved."
I turned to look at him.
"Didn't you say it was time to settle the score once and for all?" Ethan kept his eyes on the road ahead. "Tomorrow, I’m coming with you."Early the next morning, Ethan arrived to pick me up.
He wore a tailored charcoal-gray suit, his platinum cufflinks catching the morning sun.
As I sat in the passenger seat, he reached into the back and handed me a thick manila folder.
"What’s this?"
"Everything Miller compiled overnight. A complete paper trail of Chad’s eight-million-dollar embezzlement. Every single wire transfer stamped with timestamps, receiving accounts, and declared purposes."
I flipped through it. Right on top was a summary sheet: the eight million had been broken down into thirty-seven separate transactions, routed across nine shell accounts.
The largest single chunk—$1.2 million—had been wired into a company called "Apex Supplies."
"Apex is a dummy LLC registered under Chad’s cousin," Ethan said, accelerating smoothly. "On paper, it was procurement of commercial supplies. In reality, the moment the money hit the account, it was split and funneled straight into Chad’s parents' accounts and his ex-girlfriend’s pocket."
"His ex?" I paused. "Which ex?"
"The one before you. Rachel Dawson. She’s currently living in Australia," Ethan said, taking a curve. "This transfer went through last November. You two hadn't even broken up yet."
My fingers tightened around the folder.
"So while he was sleeping next to me, he was wiring funds to his ex overseas?"
"Fifty thousand a month, consistently for eight months," Ethan said. "The wire description was labeled 'Alimony & Child Support.'"
A cold, incredulous laugh escaped my lips.
"Child support? He was paying child support to an ex?"
"Yes. Miller confirmed that Rachel gave birth to a baby boy in Sydney late last year. The father’s name on the birth certificate was left blank."
I leaned back against the leather seat, watching the city skyline blur past the window.
Chad, just how many filthy secrets were you keeping from me?
The driveway of the Grand Plaza Hotel was packed with luxury vehicles.
Even though the Sterlings postponed the wedding, they had repurposed the venue into a "Corporate Appreciation Luncheon" for all the business partners who had flown in.
On the surface, it was an apology to their elite associates; in reality, it was Gia’s family offering Chad one final, dignified exit.
Ethan and I walked up to the grand ballroom doors. The concierge checked our invitations and bowed respectfully, ushering us inside.
The ballroom was massive, set with over twenty banquet tables.
Most of the guests had already arrived—men in bespoke tuxedos and women dripping in diamonds, mingling in hushed, curious circles.
Chad stood near the head table in a crisp white tuxedo, his face pale and taut.
Next to him stood Gia in a striking red dress, holding a champagne flute, her social smile stiff as porcelain.
The second Chad saw me walk in, his expression contorted into sheer venom.
Composing himself quickly, he grabbed a glass and marched straight toward us.
"Chloe," he hissed under his breath. "You actually dared to show up."
"You texted me yesterday to see you today," I smiled faintly. "I couldn't possibly be rude."
"You—"
"Chad," Ethan interrupted, casually tapping the manila envelope against his palm. "Don't cause a scene here. Either step outside with us, or I take this straight up to the stage microphone."
Chad’s eyes darted to the folder, his pupils constricting sharply.
"What is that?"
"The complete records of the $50,000 monthly wires you've been sending to Rachel Dawson in Australia since last November," Ethan said smoothly. "Along with every bank account and transfer trail linked to your cousin’s dummy firm, Apex Supplies."Chad’s face drained of every ounce of color.
"You son of a—"
"Chad." Gia suddenly glided over, linking her arm through his, wearing a practiced social grin. "What are you boys talking about? And who is..."
She looked at me, her eyes freezing over.
"This is Miss Rivers," Chad ground out through clenched teeth. "An old... acquaintance."
"Acquaintance?" Gia tilted her head slightly. "Miss Rivers, have you considered what we talked about yesterday?"
"Which part?"
"The million dollars," Gia said smoothly. "Like I said, money isn't an issue. All you need to do is sign, and we stay out of each other's hair."
Her voice was just loud enough for the neighboring tables to overhear.
I felt dozens of curious stares shifting in our direction.
Ethan stepped forward half a pace, casually shielding me.
"Miss Sterling," Ethan spoke up coolly. "A million dollars for thirty percent equity? Isn't that an insultingly lowball offer?"
The polite smile on Gia’s face stiffened.
"Mr. Vance, this is strictly between Miss Rivers and me."
"Chloe is my girlfriend," Ethan replied without missing a beat. "Her business is my business."
Gia’s gaze flickered with irritation.
"Mr. Vance, are you really willing to cross the Sterling family over a woman?"
"I’m merely helping the Sterling family rectify a catastrophic mistake," Ethan gave a mild smirk. "The man standing beside you has embezzled eight million dollars from his firm over the past three years. Four hundred thousand of which ended up in a trust under your name."
Gia’s grip on Chad’s arm tightened violently.
"What did you just say?"
"You didn't know?" Ethan looked at her with faux surprise. "Chad didn't tell you? He transferred three million into a private portfolio with you as the beneficiary. But the seed capital for that fund was routed straight through his cousin's shell company. In legal terms: money laundering."
Gia’s composure shattered completely.
She whipped around, glaring murderously at Chad.
"You told me that money was legitimate corporate profit."
"Gia, baby, let me explain—"
"Chad!" Gia’s voice spiked shrilly, cutting through the murmurs in the hall as heads turned from every direction. "You swore to my father that your balance sheets were clean and debt-free! Now you're telling me you embezzled corporate funds and laundered them through shell corporations?!"
"Gia, keep your voice down, not here—"
"WHERE ELSE SHOULD I SAY IT?!"
Gia shoved his arm away in disgust. "We were supposed to get married, and you swore your hands were clean! Turns out you're a criminal waiting for an indictment?!"
Chapters (6)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Watch & Promotions
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