Chapter 9
I let out a cold, humorless smile.
“Are you sorry, or are you just scared because you’re about to lose everything?
“Jackson, wake up. The moment you forced me into that corner, whatever we had was over.”
Jackson looked up at me in anguish, trying to say something…
But before he could speak, a shrill female voice cut through the air.
“Jackson, you bastard! I’m pregnant with your child!”
Jessie came out of nowhere, dropping to her knees right in front of me.
“Ms. Sullivan, you already have everything. That humiliating background of yours doesn’t even matter anymore–no one in Los Angeles dares to bring it up now that Jordan’s your father. So please, just stop fighting me over Jackson, alright?
“I’m carrying his child. My baby needs a father.”
Jackson’s eyes widened in panic. He shoved her away instinctively.
I let out a snort, pulled the already–prepared divorce papers from my bag, and tossed them at him. “Take care of your wife and kid, Jackson,” I said coolly. “Sign the damn papers. Otherwise, whether the Stainbrook Group survives or not… won’t be up to you.”
With that, I turned and walked away.
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Chapter 9
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Behind me, the sound of them arguing and blaming each other slowly faded into the warmth of the spring breeze.
But Jackson still wouldn’t give up. He seemed completely convinced I still had feelings for him.
Then came the stunts–one after another.
He sent me flowers and gifts every day. He forced Jessie to terminate the pregnancy and even had someone deliver the medical report to me, stained at the corners with fresh blood.
I was disgusted.
Around that time, Jordan started grooming me as the next successor of the Fletcher Group. And the first challenge I set for myself was to bring down the Stainbrook Group.
After a series of calculated strikes, their stock plummeted.
I seized the opportunity and bought up shares at rock–bottom prices, completely catching Jackson off guard.
Backed into a corner and on the verge of bankruptcy, Jackson finally caved. He agreed to the divorce after the Friday market closed.
We were finally, officially divorced.
The day I got the divorce certificate, he still tried to put on a lovesick
act.
The moment he started spewing that nauseating nonsense, I had to wave my hand and order my bodyguards to throw him out.
That same night, I sent a dossier of dirt I’d been sitting on to the paparazzi.
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警察
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Within 30 minutes, the internet exploded.
“#Stainbrook Group CEO Jackson Allegedly Forced Girlfriend to Get an Abortion.”
“#Jackson Stainbrook Cheated During His Marriage.”
“#Mistress Jessie Revealed as Krueger Heiress–Fake Innocent, Real Man–Eater with Dozens of Flings.”
The trending topics were a frenzy, and gossip–hungry netizens couldn’t get enough.
Desperate, Jackson held a rushed press conference claiming he and Jessie were engaged, and that the abortion had been entirely her choice.
Jessie also came forward, insisting she was innocent and just wanted to settle down quietly, no longer wishing to take up public resources.
I shut off my phone and casually looked across the desk at the man standing before me.
I chuckled.
“Mr. Stainbrook, shouldn’t you be busy planning a wedding right about now? What are you doing here?”
Jackson’s face twisted in agony, his eyes so bloodshot they looked ready to bleed.
“Nicole, I love you. The moment I realized I was about to lose you for good, I was crushed with regret.”
As he spoke, he yanked open his shirt, exposing his chest, still bruised and swollen. A tattoo, etched in angry ink, spelled my name.
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The sight made my stomach turn. I wanted nothing more than to plunge a knife straight into him.
And yet Jackson kept going, completely convinced he was pouring out some grand, romantic confession.
“I’m only marrying Jessie because I have no choice. Once this all blows over, I’ll divorce her–I swear. You’re the only one I’ve ever truly loved. That’s why I had your name tattooed over my heart, to prove my loyalty.
“Nicole, please… Wait for me, will you?”
I gave a little shrug, then casually picked up a tablet from the desk. After tapping the screen a few times, I tossed it in front of him.
Jackson glanced down in confusion, then froze.
His expression shifted instantly.
Staring back at him were the original account logins behind every post that had set the internet on fire. They were all logged in on my tablet.
He turned ghostly pale. His voice cracked.
“It was you? Why?”
I gave a slow, cold smile. “Because you disgust me.”
After Jackson’s so–called marriage, life didn’t exactly turn out like a fairytale. Their screaming matches were so dramatic they might as well have been part of an action movie–and they made frequent
appearances on trending searches.
Meanwhile, my world finally quieted. I took full control of Fletcher Group.
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I never deluded myself into thinking Jordan backed me because he loved me. He didn’t. I was just the only child he had left, and the only one remotely capable of inheriting the empire he’d built.
So I made sure I didn’t disappoint.
Not only did I solidify Fletcher Group’s position, but I also expanded my fashion design studio into a major force.
Eventually, I edged Jordan out completely–stripped him of all power and moved him into a luxury nursing home, where he lived off the allowance I sent him every month. To my surprise, he didn’t resist at all.
He only muttered one sentence as I turned to leave, “You are my daughter.”
I didn’t respond.
I walked away, head held high, finally tasting the sweet satisfaction of avenging my mother.
Two years later, I received an invitation to an auction.
There, in the auction hall, I ran into Jackson and Jessie–ghosts of the past.
They looked nothing like the powerful pair from two years ago. Ragged, hollow–eyed, worn down by time and failure.
There weren’t many items up for bid that night, and they barely raised their paddles–their business was hanging by a thread, and they had almost no money left to spend.
Then, the auctioneer stepped on stage to announce the final item of the evening.
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“A private video featuring Jessie, the beloved wife of Stainbrook Group’s Mr. Jackson Stainbrook. The highest bidder wins.”
Jackson and Jessie shot to their feet, terror–stricken as a series of screenshots flashed across the giant screen. Cold sweat dripped from their faces.
I smiled and slowly raised my hand high in the air.
“Unlimited bidding!”
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