I WALKED INTO THAT RESTAURANT READY TO BLAME A HOMELESS BOY FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO MY SON. TEN MINUTES LATER, I WAS STARING AT MY HUSBAND LIKE I HAD NEVER KNOWN HIM AT ALL
The chill of late autumn gusted through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the most opulent penthouse in Manhattan. A divorce agreement lay flat on the Italian marble coffee table, weighed down by a Chase bank check bearing a six-figure sum in USD—equivalent to exactly two hundred million yuan.
Alexander Vance—the man who controlled the lifeblood of the Wall Street-renowned Vance financial empire—leaned back against the leather sofa, his fingers tapping leisurely against the armrest. His face was as cold and impassive as a plaster statue, his razor-sharp gaze fixed directly on me.
“All expenses for the pregnancy, childbirth, and the care of the two children have been fully accounted for here,” he said, his voice deep and devoid of emotion. “The divorce agreement is clear. Once signed, you walk out of this house and sever all ties with the Vance family.”
I looked at the check. Two hundred million yuan. A sum enough to afford anyone a life of luxury.
Did he expect me to weep, to feel my pride wounded, or to drop to my knees and beg to remain “Mrs. Vance”?
I smiled faintly, picked up the Montblanc pen, and decisively signed my name on the final page without a moment’s hesitation.
“Thank you for your generosity, Alexander,” I said, folding the agreement and slipping the check into my Hermès handbag. “I wish you and your ‘childhood sweetheart’—fresh back from Paris—a blissful life together.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow, momentarily surprised by my uncanny composure, but the arrogance of a ruler quickly returned to his eyes. He stood up and adjusted his tie. “The children are asleep in the nursery. The driver will take you to the airport tonight. I’ve already arranged a car and a residence for you in London.” He turned and walked away, confident that everything remained firmly under his control. Little did he imagine that on this chessboard, I would be the one to make the final move.
Four hours later.
A private jet took off from JFK Airport, soaring into the vast expanse of the night sky, heading straight for Europe.
Inside the luxurious cabin, the soft, steady breathing of three-month-old twins could be heard. The twins—a boy and a girl—lay peacefully in their specialized bassinets.
I gently readjusted the lambswool blanket over my children, a cold smile playing on my lips.
Alexander Vance believed his scheme was flawless and undetected. He saw me as nothing more than an ordinary girl who had lucked into a wealthy family; he assumed that once I had outlived my usefulness—having borne two heirs for his clan—he could simply pay me off and kick me out to make room for his old flame.
But he had overlooked one crucial detail: I was the one who had hand-picked the entire medical team, the nurses, and the household staff throughout my pregnancy and delivery at the family’s private hospital.
That afternoon, the moment he left the penthouse for his sham engagement party with his mistress at the Plaza Hotel, the household staff—all of whom had received generous bonuses from me—quietly packed up. The twins were examined by a private physician and whisked directly into a waiting vehicle, bound for the airport.
By the time Alexander discovered the empty bassinets in the room, my children and I were already cruising at an altitude of 10,000 meters.
He offered me two hundred million yuan in exchange for my freedom and the children? No. I took his two hundred million yuan—and took the Vance empire’s only two heirs along with me. Five years later. Zurich, Switzerland.
It was a winter morning; snow blanketed the historic streets in white. At the headquarters of a leading European private bank, a closed-door investment conference was underway, attended by the world’s most formidable financial conglomerates.
Alexander Vance sat at the head of the conference table.
Over the past five years, the Vance empire had flourished in terms of figures, yet he himself had been living a waking nightmare. The night he returned to his penthouse—only to face an empty apartment and the missing medical reports regarding the two children—he had nearly lost his mind. He had turned New York upside down, leveraging every connection from the FBI to the underworld to find me, but I had vanished like a drop of water evaporating into thin air.
The disappearance of the two legitimate heirs had drawn constant pressure from the Vance family board. His former mistress was ousted the very next week after he discovered she had attempted to tamper with my medical records. Alexander had grown cold and ruthless, burying himself in work to fill the void.
“Apologies for keeping you waiting.”
The cedar doors of the conference room opened.
A woman walked in wearing a masterfully tailored cream-colored suit; her wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she exuded an air of nobility that commanded the entire room. Beside her walked two children—a boy of about five, dressed in a sharp black suit with a keen gaze that mirrored Alexander’s, and a girl in a red evening dress, her face as lovely as a doll’s.
The pen slipped from Alexander’s hand, clattering onto the table.
His entire body went rigid. His ash-gray eyes narrowed, fixed intently on the woman who was walking toward the conference table with a calm, confident smile.
“It’s been a long time…”
“Nice to meet you, CEO Vance,” I said, smiling as I extended my hand toward him. “I represent Crown Investment Fund—the new strategic shareholder holding a 15% stake in Vance Group.”
Alexander shot to his feet, sending his chair skidding backward. His voice trembled, so hoarse it was barely recognizable: “Evelyn… Is that you?”
His gaze shifted down to the two children standing beside me. The little boy looked up at him; his eyes were the exact mirror image of Alexander’s, yet his expression was one of utter wariness and unfamiliarity.
“Mommy, who is this man?” the young son asked, his voice clear and carrying a distinct British accent. “Why is he staring at you so strangely?”
It felt as though an invisible hand were squeezing the life out of Alexander’s heart. He walked around the conference table; his usually steady gait was now unsteady, almost stumbling. He dropped to one knee before the children, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch them: “Leo… Mia… It’s Dad. I’m your father…”
“Stop right there, Mr. Vance,” I said, stepping forward to shield my children behind me, looking down at him with a cold, steely gaze. “There are only business partners here; there are no family ties.”
“Evelyn! Where have you taken the children for the past five years?!” Alexander looked up, veins bulging at his temples and his eyes bloodshot, as he roared out the words in bitter anguish. “Do you have any idea how I’ve lived these last five years? I’ve been searching for you like a madman!” “You took my money, and then you made off with my own flesh and blood!”
I let out a laugh—a clear, airy sound, yet laced with biting sarcasm.
“Have you forgotten, Alexander?” I leaned in close to his ear, speaking in a voice meant only for the two of us. “Back then, *you* were the one who handed me two hundred million yuan and told me to ‘get out of the house and sever all ties with the Vance family.’ I was simply honoring the terms of the contract.”
“That contract didn’t include you taking the children with you!” he gritted out.
“The contract, drafted by your own lawyers, stated only this: ‘Party B shall relinquish custody of the children if Party A so requests at the time of the divorce.'” “But that afternoon, you were busy having dinner with your mistress; you didn’t even deign to step into the nursery to ‘claim’ your children, did you?” I gave a cold smile. “You missed your chance, CEO Vance—you have to live with the consequences.”
“You…” Alexander was rendered speechless. It was true; back then, blinded by overconfidence, he had signed an addendum my lawyer had slipped into the stack of documents. It contained a clause stating that if Party A did not personally take custody of the children within three hours of signing, full custody would revert to Party B.
He had been too arrogant, too dismissive of me, to bother reading every page of the paperwork carefully.
During the three-day economic summit in Zurich, Alexander completely lost his usual composure.
He canceled all his personal engagements and booked out the entire hotel floor where my children and I were staying. He sent hundreds of roses and peonies, along with the world’s most expensive toys, and spent hours waiting in the lobby, hoping for just a glimpse of the two children.
But the kids were accustomed to the unconditional love I gave them and the protection of my maternal family—a powerful, low-profile European conglomerate I had returned to lead after leaving New York.
That evening, in the hotel’s VIP lounge, Alexander intercepted me as I was leaving the gym.
He looked haggard; his expensive suit was disheveled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. The man who had once dominated the New York business world now stood before me, looking utterly broken.
“Evelyn, I was wrong,” he said in a low, pleading voice, grasping my wrist. “I was stupid and blind back then. That two hundred million yuan… the entire Vance family fortune, my empire—it all belongs to you and the children.” “Please… give me a chance to start over. Let me be their father.”
I slowly brushed his hand away. The look I gave him held no hatred—only absolute detachment.
“Alexander, you weren’t wrong. You’re simply a businessman through and through, always measuring everything in monetary terms.” I calmly adjusted my collar. “You thought two hundred million yuan could buy my freedom and strip me of my right to be a mother. But what you didn’t foresee was that I would use that money—combined with my own family’s assets—as capital to stand here today as the person acquiring a controlling stake in your corporation.”
“I don’t want your money; I want you and the children!” he roared in desperation.
“It’s too late,” I said with a smile, turning my back to walk toward the elevator. “The children are already registered under my family’s name. They bear my surname, and in the future, they will return to New York to take over the entire Vance Group—not as your son and daughter, but as your competitors.”
The elevator doors slowly slid shut.
Through the gap in the gleaming metal doors, I saw Alexander Vance collapse onto the marble floor, his hands covering his face in belated remorse.
He had once thought himself the maddest player on this chessboard of love and money. Yet, he never realized that the woman who walked out of that wealthy dynasty with two hundred million yuan and two heirs in tow… was the ultimate winner.
