On National Day, I returned from work and noticed a banner fluttering in the wind, Serenia Residences were on sale. It was the best development in the city and since my parents refused to move away, I decided to buy the finest apartment there for their retirement.

I was just about to sign the contract when the door slammed open. Henry, my ex-wife’s younger brother, walked in with a smirk that froze my hand mid-signature.

“Wait.” He snatched the contract and the pen from my grasp, his voice dripping false warmth. “Let me sign the contract.”

Before I could react, he wrote his name across the page. Then, looking up, he said with a grin that made my stomach turn. “Since you’ve bought me the best apartment, I’ll tell my sister to remarry you when I get home.”

I stared at him. Was he insane? Did he really think I’d buy him an eleven-million-dollar apartment out of affection?

I didn’t bother to pay attention to my ex-brother-in-law and looked at the sales manager. I said, “Prepare another contract.”

But Henry leaned back, arrogance radiating from every word. “No need. I’ve already signed it. And don’t think I don’t know the law; the apartment’s mine now.”

The sales manager hesitated, then spoke softly. “Mr. Madron, Mr. Rowse has already signed the contract. The apartment legally belongs to him.”

For a second, I thought I’d misheard. “What the hell did you just say?”

——

The manager lowered his gaze, avoiding my stare. Something wasn’t right. “You know each other, don’t you?” I demanded.

He didn’t answer, but his silence said everything. How the hell did Henry even know I was here?

“I’m calling the police,” I said flatly.

Henry snorted. “Go ahead. You owe me this, anyway. When you were with my sister, she said you’d help me prepare a wedding gift. I’m getting married now, so this is it.”

I looked at him, disbelief curdling into fury. Some people had no shame. Then the sales manager, no, his accomplice, stepped in smoothly.

“I can prove it,” he said. “Mr. Madron voluntarily bought the house for Mr. Rowse. I don’t understand why you’re calling the police.”

My jaw clenched. “Eleven million dollars. What do you get out of this?”

The man smiled coldly, confidently. “Well, it’s my job to prepare a wedding house for my brother-in-law.”

He extended his hand, that smug look never leaving his face. “Allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Roy, Henry’s current brother-in-law and Shannon’s current husband.”

For a moment, the world tilted. Shannon, my ex-wife. Roy’s hand hovered in the air, then dropped when I refused to shake it.

“There’s no surveillance here,” he continued smoothly. “I’m the only witness. So, on behalf of Henry, thank you for the wonderful wedding gift. How about we discuss this over a drink?”

He paused, eyes narrowing. “If you really want the prime apartment, Henry’s not fit to keep it anyway. You hurt Shannon deeply back then and your ‘compensation’ was pathetic. So here’s my offer: pay fourteen million dollars and we’ll transfer the property back to you. Secure location, notarized, your choice.”

He smiled faintly. “You’ve made your fortune, haven’t you? Consider it… an apology for the past.”

No wonder I divorced Shannon. Her family was a mirror of her, shameless, filthy to the core. How the hell did Roy end up as the sales manager and Shannon’s husband?

People like them were easy to read and easier to expose. I fixed them with a cold look, unlocked my phone and dialed the police right in front of their faces.

Henry’s smile froze. He leaned in, eyes hard as steel. “You really going to call them?” he scoffed. “Do that and you’ll be paying over a hundred million. Guess I’ll have to leave this to my sister.”

He shouted toward the door, voice dangerous, “Shannon!”

The door opened and a voice I knew too well slid into the room. Shannon stepped in, a hand curled around my phone. “Jerome,” she said, amusement curling at the edges of her words.

“So you’ve learned to call the police.” Her gaze cut to me, cold and precise. “Don’t forget, half your assets are mine. I hear you’re worth over a billion now. I won’t be greedy. Seven hundred million and I’ll sign whatever you want.”

“If you refuse, I’ll post every dirty secret online. Let’s see how you earn another cent. And you’ll pay me seven hundred million, every month. Half your profits must be transferred to my account, on time, from now on.”

“Shannon,” I said, voice hollow, “you haven’t changed, shameless to the end.” I looked at her face, once familiar, now a picture of everything I despised. “You know the truth better than anyone.”

“Does the truth matter?” Shannon asked, voice sharp with contempt. “What matters is whether the public will believe you once I put it online. One upload and the image you built over years collapses. Your company could go under. Seven hundred million a month or total ruin; which should I choose for you?”

Her words dragged up the old nightmare, that incident that had nearly destroyed me, the memory that had almost killed my parents. Now she used it like a blade, pressing the old wound until it bled again. She wanted me small and helpless once more. But, not this time. Being victimized once before taught me a lesson and I learned to put away my kindness. I would not be played twice.

Ice replaced whatever warmth I’d kept. “I’d rather go bankrupt than pay a single cent to a vicious woman like you.”

Shannon’s smile widened, predatory. “You’ve grown braver,” she said, appraising me. “Good. But I have other ways. We’ll switch to Plan B.”

Before I could react, she ripped open her shirt and hurled herself into my arms, a frantic, practiced performance. “Jerome, stop!” she screamed and then, piercing, “We’re divorced! No matter how much you try, I won’t let you touch me. Help… I’m being assaulted…”

I shoved her off, watching the act with cold distance as she collapsed to the floor and scrambled backward. “Mr. Madron, stop!” she cried, flailing. “Somebody, help me!”

Henry already had his phone up, recording. When Shannon regained her feet, he waved the screen at me. “I’ll edit this later,” he said with giggles. “If this video goes online… imagine the fallout.”

Shannon wiped at her tears, reapplied a perfect stroke of makeup and spoke casually. “Jerome, regret is the heaviest loss. You owe me for what you did. Do you think the netizens will sympathize with you? If that old footage goes public, your company won’t survive. Seven hundred million a month isn’t much. Half your profits, just what an ex-wife deserves.”

She leveled me with a stare as cold as ice. “Last chance. One minute.”

One minute passed and Henry’s face was grim. “You idiot! How dare you molest my sister? Beat him to death!”

At his signal, a pack of faces surged in from outside, relatives, allies of Shannon’s clan. They moved with the certainty of people who’d rehearsed violence. There was no escape.

Shannon’s voice sharpened. “You nearly went blind and lost an ear then, but still didn’t learn a thing? One more minute. If you don’t pay, I’ll make you truly blind and deaf today. Then I’ll call it self-defense.”

I backed into a corner. Their shadows pressed in from both sides. The minute ran out. Shannon gave the order like a verdict. “Beat him.”

They lunged and for a heartbeat, the room exploded in motion. Then, at the sight of me, the attackers froze. Where fury had burned a moment before, terror now flickered in their eyes.

I opened my mouth and spat out a wet piece of flesh. “I’ll commit suicide,” I said, voice low and hollow. “And, I’ll drag you all into hell with me.”

I moved like a man who had nothing left to lose. Two of them hit the floor beneath my hands, helpless and groaning.

From my pocket, I produced a small mechanical key and I slammed it into Henry’s eye. He screamed; blood poured hot and bright from the wound. He staggered, faltering, life draining fast.

“Don’t come any closer!” Shannon’s panic cut through the chaos, this time for real. She stumbled backward, terror flattening her features as she scrambled and fell. “I’m calling the police!” she yelled, phone already in hand.

I folded the car key away with slow, automatic motions, poured a glass of water as if nothing unusual had happened and sat down. Patient. Waiting.

They packed Henry and the others out between them. Henry was bleeding into his collar. A few minutes later, I heard her voice carrying through the door as she told the police about the incident.

Her version was neat, practiced: I had tried to assault her. She and her brother were house-hunting; relatives heard her screams and rushed in to save her. In her telling, I gouged Henry’s eyes and bit a man to death.

“Officer, Jerome is dangerous. You should shoot him. He’s armed,” Shannon lied smoothly.

“Jerome, come out with your hands up!” a voice outside called.

I walked out, hands on my head. The truth had no witness, no cameras in the room, only their coordinated testimony. One man dead, another blinded; the evidence pointed to me. I was taken away while Shannon and her clan were led off for questioning and then released, triumphant.

Hours later, I sat in a detention cell as a criminal suspect, while they went free. The next day, Shannon returned. If looks could kill, she would have sliced me where I sat.

“You killed my uncle and blinded my brother,” she said, voice cold as ice. “But I’ll give you one chance to redeem yourself.”

She laid out her terms like a dealer: one billion dollars, transfer your company to mine, a signed apology and her uncle’s family’s sworn statement that they wouldn’t pursue the murder charge. “Do that,” she said, “and you won’t face execution.”

I rose without wasting breath or time. Her jaw tightened. “Jerome, this is your last chance,” she warned. “Refuse and I’ll make sure you die with a scandal that haunts your name forever. I’ll expose what happened back then and the staged assault yesterday. Think of your daughter. If she knew the truth about her father—”

My daughter. She used that word to threaten me. She was truly evil. She was the mother, too and now she used our child as a weapon. I laughed at the thought; let her play her theater for a few days. I left while she raged, letting her words hang worthless in the air.

She tried again the next day with a letter slipped to me through an outside party. The handwriting was neat, the message colder still.

[I will not forgive you. I almost forgot I am your daughter’s mother. She’s the legal heir to your estate; if you’re executed, custody falls to me. Before you die, I will fulfill my promise and I will make you a villain for the ages. By the time you read this, all your sins will be online. If your parents learn the truth again, they may not survive this time. You deserve it.]

I opened my phone. The internet was already alive with their version: [A heartless husband, consumed by his wife’s friend’s beauty, descends into criminality.]

The story had been written and the world was ready to read.