Chloe's threat pressed against Liam's throat like a white-hot blade, choking off his breath. His legendary composure shattered in the face of her hysterical ultimatum. For the first time, he felt truly helpless—blindsided by betrayal from his accomplice and terrified of her retaliation.

"Don't be crazy, Chloe! Listen—calm down!" Liam struggled to steady his voice, but a slight tremor betrayed his panic. "We have money—plenty of money! What's a few million in penalties? I've got offshore accounts with tens of millions! Enough for us to live like royalty forever, and more than enough to fix your current situation!"


His words hit her like an adrenaline shot, instantly steadying her collapsing nerves. Her shrill sobs stopped, replaced by rapid breathing.

"Really? You still have money?" Her voice mixed doubt with desperate hope—a drowning woman spotting a potential lifeline.

"Of course!" Liam forced confidence into his voice to mask his unease. "Trust me. I'm heading to the bank right now for a major cash withdrawal. We'll hire the world's best PR team, silence those gossip rags, scrub all the negative coverage. Everything you've lost, I'll help you get back twice over. Just stay in the hotel and don't do anything stupid."


Liam hung up and exhaled deeply, cold sweat already soaking through his shirt. Staring at his pale reflection, he forced a confident smile. Yes, he still had his ace—those massive accounts in the Bahamas and Cayman Islands. The fortune he'd meticulously stolen from Ava and the company would be his comeback capital. That stupid woman thought she could defeat him with some internet outrage? How naive. In this world, money was the only true power.

He changed into an expensive tailored suit, donned designer sunglasses, and strode confidently from the resort toward the prestigious Swiss bank in downtown Nassau.


Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in New York, a silent financial strangulation was being executed with surgical precision at Ray's detective agency. Coffee aroma mingled with the crisp sound of keyboard strokes. On the wall map, red lines extended from New York to several Caribbean islands.

Ray sat before his computer, face focused and calm. His fingers flew across the keyboard, sending encrypted communications and legal documents through his private network to banking executives and financial crime investigators across the Caribbean.

"Ava, all documents are submitted," Ray said, turning to me with his steel-edged voice. "Our evidence chain is airtight: official records of Liam's forged death certificate, detailed transaction histories through his shell companies, proof of your legal marriage and joint property rights. With my personal 'connections,' the Bahamas Financial Services Authority has already initiated emergency procedures."

I stood behind him, studying the complex data and legal text on screen. These cold characters would soon form an inescapable net around Liam and Chloe. I felt nothing—only the clinical detachment of a surgeon before a complicated procedure.

"Most crucially, our anonymous tip to international anti-money laundering authorities suggested these funds might involve terrorism financing, not just insurance fraud." Ray's lips curved in a cold smile. "No reputable bank would risk handling potentially terrorist-linked funds. Account freezing is their only safe option."

Bahamas, Swiss Bank VIP Room.

Liam sat with legs elegantly crossed, expensive cigar between his fingers, wearing a confident smile. He believed that within minutes, he'd be walking back to the hotel with a suitcase of cash, ready to regain control over both his hysterical accomplice and the spiraling situation.

The bank manager—a polite British gentleman—approached with a professional smile and respectfully returned Liam's black card.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir." The manager's tone was impeccable, but his words hit Liam like arctic water. "Due to a freezing order just received from International Judicial Assistance, your account has been temporarily frozen. All funds are currently inaccessible."

Liam's smile crystallized into a rigid mask.

"Frozen? Is this some kind of joke?" He forced the words through clenched teeth, keeping his voice low to avoid drawing attention to his identity.

"I deeply apologize, sir. This is a mandatory directive from banking authorities that we cannot override." The manager bowed slightly, his professional smile never wavering. "Until the freeze is lifted, these funds cannot be accessed for any transaction whatsoever."

Liam stared at the manager's practiced smile, nearly exploding with rage. But what could he do? Question further? Argue? That would only risk exposing his true identity and bringing authorities. He suppressed the urge to flip the table, forced a grimace that barely resembled a smile, and hastily exited the bank.

He refused to accept defeat. It must be just this bank. He had other accounts!

Like a man possessed, he rushed to another bank, then a third, a fourth… Accounts in Cayman, Bermuda, Singapore… He visited nearly every financial institution in Nassau that handled offshore business. Yet everywhere, the response was identical:

"Sorry, sir. Account frozen."

"Regulations prevent us from processing your withdrawal."

"All assets legally restricted."

Despair coiled around his heart like a constrictor, tightening with each rejection. He could still see those astounding balances on the screens—tens of millions of dollars tantalizingly visible yet completely untouchable. A mirage of wealth he could see but never reach.

In my New York apartment, night had fallen. I stood alone before the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing down at the glittering cityscape. My phone lit up with a message from Ray, brutally concise:

"Net tightened. Fish trapped. All target accounts frozen."

I raised my wine glass to the brilliant night skyline, gently swirling the deep crimson liquid. An unfamiliar sensation rose from deep within me—pure, undiluted satisfaction. My lips curved into the first genuine smile since this revenge began. Liam, your paradise ends now.

When Liam stumbled back to the presidential suite, his expensive suit was soaked with sweat and hopelessly wrinkled. His face showed no trace of its former arrogance—only ashen despair.

Chloe pounced immediately, like a shark scenting blood.

"Where's the money? Did you get it?" She stared at his empty hands, eyes wild with desperate hope.

Liam collapsed onto the sofa, his voice a broken whisper: "Something's happened… all accounts… frozen."

"WHAT?!" Chloe's shriek could have shattered glass. "What do you mean FROZEN? You said it was SAFE! You said it was FOOLPROOF!"

"How the hell should I know?!" Liam exploded, leaping to his feet with bloodshot eyes. "It must be that bitch Ava! No—she doesn't have that capability… it's that detective! Has to be him!"

"I don't CARE who did it!" Chloe completely lost control, clawing at his clothes. "You've RUINED me! YOU dragged me into this! And now you're telling me there's no money? You worthless piece of shit! LIAR!"

"Shut the FUCK up!" Liam shoved her hard. Chloe stumbled backward into a table corner with a pained cry. "If it weren't for your insatiable greed and stupidity, we wouldn't have been exposed! YOU ruined everything, you stupid bitch!"

They tore at each other like feral animals in the luxurious suite, hurling blame and curses. Yesterday's passionate lovers now wanted nothing more than to destroy each other. Chloe screamed threats about going to the authorities and exposing everything.

Just as their fight verged on physical violence, a polite but firm knock sounded at the door.

The hotel manager stood in the doorway, professional smile firmly in place but eyes cold as ice. Behind him loomed two massive security guards, intimidating without effort.

"Good evening, sir and madam." The manager presented a lengthy bill. "I regret to inform you that your guarantee card has been declined. Hotel policy requires immediate settlement of your $327,000 balance, or we must ask you to vacate the premises immediately."

Liam and Chloe froze mid-argument. They exchanged a glance, seeing identical emotions in each other's eyes—pure, unadulterated panic.

They frantically emptied their pockets and wallets, piling all available cash on the table—a pathetic few thousand dollars. Not even close to covering the bill, barely enough for two economy tickets back to New York.

Liam slowly turned his head, gaze moving past Chloe's hate-filled face to the azure sea beyond—that ocean that had briefly represented his freedom and wealth. He knew then that his "foolproof" plan had failed catastrophically. He had lost everything.