The owner of the jeweler called me personally, his voice shaking：

“Ms. Pruitt, among the pieces your assistant sent in for maintenance, one of the custom rings is a fake……”

I set down the documents in my hand, my voice cold enough to freeze bone：

“Trace it. Every piece has a unique serial number. Find the last transaction or service record, wherever it was.”

The answer came fast.

One month ago, in Southport, a young woman had worn the ring to a jewelry auction.

The auction house had cleaned and serviced it free of charge. It was all on file.

The woman's photo and social media handle landed on my phone within minutes.

Her latest post showed my pink-diamond ring on her finger, captioned：

【The engagement ring from my Chen. One of a kind, just like us.】

Top comment underneath：

【That's the richest man in Southport for you! Nothing but the best!】

My brow furrowed.

Ken Simmons was engaged? With MY ring?

He was nothing but a fish in my pond.

And now he was calling himself the richest man in town and getting engaged to another woman?

Since he couldn't even manage the simple job of being a kept man, it was time to strip him back down to the nobody he'd always been.

……

I called my assistant：

“Book me on the next flight back to the States. I'm going straight to the Southport subsidiary.”

“And keep my itinerary off the record.”

Ken Simmons was a fish in my pond, and not even a particularly favored one.

I was the reason he got to play CEO. Without my say-so, he was nothing.

Since he'd chosen disloyalty, it was time to reel in the line and gut the fish.

He'd always believed I was a washed-up heiress who'd sold her luxury car to fund his startup.

He thought I was sitting around wide-eyed, waiting for him to strike it big and do me the charity of a marriage proposal.

He had no idea I was the actual controlling shareholder of one of the nation's most powerful conglomerates.

The whole thing had been nothing more than a little “roleplay.”

Three days later, I stood in the lobby of the Southport subsidiary.

I slipped off my sunglasses and tapped the reception desk：

“I'm here to see Ken Simmons.”

The receptionist rolled her eyes so hard they nearly left her skull：

“Another gold-digger! I've told you people a hundred times, Mr. Simmons has a fiancée!”

Moments later, a woman came clicking across the marble in stilettos, a look of smug superiority plastered on her face.

“What business do you have with my fiancé?”

I looked her up and down. Sure enough, it was Ken Simmons' “fiancée” herself, Meg Henson.

Young, pretty, curves in all the right places.

My gaze dropped to her hand.

There it was. My personal property, a pink diamond worth two million dollars, sitting on her finger.

I spoke, unhurried：

“Nice ring.”

She smiled thinly：

“Engagement ring. One of a kind. Worth six million.”

“You're not the first gold-digger and you won't be the last. Turn around and leave. You don't stand a chance.”

My gaze lingered on that self-satisfied face of hers.

“Your fiancé is Ken Simmons? The so-called richest man in Southport?”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, making sure the ring caught the light.

“That's right.”

“Leave while I'm still being nice.”

“Women like you, I've seen a hundred of.”

The Southport subsidiary was worth about three hundred million. By Pruitt Group standards, it barely registered as a rounding error.

A year ago, I'd tossed it to my boy toy Ken Simmons to “build his empire” with.

At the time, the branch was worth less than ten million.

He'd pounded his chest and sworn he'd grow the company into something formidable.

He had grown it, sure. But his ego had swelled even faster.

Three hundred million, and he had the nerve to call himself the richest man in Southport.

The idiot had probably counted the entire Pruitt Group under his own name.

Some people always mistake the platform for their own talent.

Without the conglomerate propping him up, Ken Simmons couldn't have built a lemonade stand to three hundred million.

“Since you're Ken Simmons' fiancée, go get him. Tell him to come see me.”

Meg let out a sharp scoff：

“Who do you think you are? The richest man in Southport doesn't just come when some nobody snaps her fingers!”

Done wasting my breath, I slapped her across the face. Hard. Three times. “Crack, crack, crack.”

Hard enough to send her false lashes flying off.

“How about now? Can I see him now?”

Meg shrieked, one hand clutching her cheek, her expression caught between rage and disbelief：

“You psycho!!”

She dialed Ken's number on the spot：

“Kenny, get down here! Some crazy woman at the front desk just hit me!”

Ken's voice blasted through the speaker, livid：

“Who gave her the guts?! Hitting you is the same as slapping ME in the face!”

“I will make her regret ever setting foot in Southport!”

After she hung up, Meg jabbed a finger in my direction, seething：

“My husband adores me! He won't let you get away with this!”

I glanced at the ring on her hand one more time and smiled：

“Funny. My husband adores me too.”

“Why don't we compare? See whose husband is the bigger deal.”

Without any rush, I dialed Ken Simmons' number：

“Hey, babe. I'm flying back to the States. Did you miss me?”

On the other end, Ken's voice turned syrupy and pathetically eager：

“Honey! Send me your flight number, I'll pick you up at the airport.”

Meg let out a derisive snort：

“I can tell just from his voice, your husband's a freeloader. Don't even try to compare him to my Kenny.”

I smiled and said nothing.

The idiot still had no idea that her “richest man in Southport” and my “freeloader” were the same person.

Moments later, a furious voice cut through the lobby：

“Who the hell has been messing with my girl?!”

Meg collapsed into a pitiful, trembling sob：

“Kenny! It's that psycho! She attacked me!”

“You have to teach her a lesson!!”

“And her freeloader husband too, don't let him off the hook!”

Ken walked up behind me, his voice dripping with arrogance：

“You think you can bully Ken Simmons' fiancée?”

“Try me. I'll make sure you never walk out of Southport.”

I turned around, looked him dead in the eye, and let the contempt drip from every word：

“Ken Simmons. If she's your fiancée, then what does that make me?”

The moment Ken saw my face, he turned to stone.

“A-Alice? What are you doing here?!”

My gaze sliced across his panicked face like a blade：

“Why? She's allowed to be here, but I'm not??”

He immediately yanked Meg behind him, guilt written all over him：

“No, that's not what I meant!”

“Come on, let's go to my office and talk.”

He wanted to handle this behind closed doors?

Like hell I was going to play along.

I didn't move an inch. Instead, I ripped the mask right off his face：

“Ken Simmons, we were apart for one year. One year, and you spent my money keeping another woman!”

“You're nothing but a kept man. Where do you get off acting like this?!”

The entire lobby went silent. Not a single person could find their voice.

“You psycho! Don't you dare slander my husband!!!”

Meg swung at me. I caught her wrist and squeezed until her knuckles went white.

She had the nerve to wear my ring. Once I was done dealing with Ken, her turn would come.

A flash of panic crossed Ken's face, there and gone in an instant.

Then he roared.

For his so-called masculine pride. For his precious reputation.

“Enough! Alice! Cut the act!”

“If something's wrong with your head, go see a psychiatrist! Don't come to my building making a scene!!”

He played the part well, I'd give him that.

Every inch the commanding CEO with the world at his feet.

He leaned in close to my ear, his voice so low only I could hear：

“Alice, you brought this on yourself. Don't blame me for not honoring what we had.”

“You think I'm still the same man I was a year ago?”

“This company answers to me now. You don't know a single person here. Nobody is going to help you.”

This ungrateful animal had finally bared his fangs.

He thought I was some naive rich girl who'd poured her entire fortune into his little startup.

He was nothing but a disobedient dog.

This was exactly why you never elevate a man who has nothing.

While I stood there processing the sheer audacity, Ken turned to the crowd and announced：

“This woman is a lunatic! She walked in off the street to cause trouble!”

“Security! Get her out of here!!”

Several security guards closed in around me.

Meg burrowed into Ken's arms, glaring at me with a look that could kill.

“Babe, you'd better make this woman pay for today!!”

Ken tapped the tip of her nose, all indulgent warmth：

“Then let's drag her to the storage room and break her legs.”

A flicker of jealousy crossed Meg's eyes：

“And her face. I can't stand looking at it. Carve it up.”

Sharp gasps rippled through the lobby.

Whispers broke out around them：

“She really is crazy. Crossing Mr. Simmons? She asked for it.”

“Seriously. Everyone in this company knows he spoils his fiancée rotten.”

Ken soaked in every word, and a twisted little ember of satisfaction glowed inside him.

A man who couldn't even freeload properly.

He deserved to be nothing more than my moneymaking, bed-warming tool.

He puffed up with all the authority of the big boss he pretended to be：

“What are you standing around for? Drag this lunatic to the storage room!”

With “the richest man in Southport” backing her up, Meg made zero effort to hide the look on her face. She wanted to crush me and make an example out of it.

“Drag her out! As long as she's still breathing, keep hitting!”

Ken wrapped an arm around her waist, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth：

“Even if someone ends up dead, I'll handle it!!”

The security guards hesitated for a few seconds, then closed in around me.

“Ken Simmons, I'm warning you one last time.”

“If you lay a hand on me, you're getting fired by corporate!”

Meg looked at me like I was the dumbest person she'd ever seen.

“She really has lost it.”

“Ken IS the one running the company behind the scenes. What's he going to do, fire himself?!”

Ken laughed too：

“You're a washed-up heiress with nothing to your name, and you actually think you matter?!”

“Take her away!”

A dark figure burst through the entrance.

My bodyguard. He dropped every single one of those guards before they knew what hit them.

I was done wasting words on these two idiots.

I pulled out my phone and called headquarters directly.

“Two minutes. Company-wide email. Strip Ken Simmons of his position as president of the Southport subsidiary.”

“Terminated. Effective immediately. Blacklisted from all future employment.”

The words barely left my mouth before Ken, pinned to the floor, started thrashing like a wild animal.

“Alice, who the hell do you think you are??”

“Keep pretending! Go on, keep up the act!!”

“You humiliated me today. I will NEVER let this go!!”

“Bodyguards!! BODYGUARDS!! Where the hell are you?!!”

I crouched down and patted his face, the skin sallow and hollow from too many late nights spent on the wrong things.

“Ken Simmons, what exactly do you think you are?”

“You're one fish in my pond. Did you really think you could make waves?”

Then I slapped him. Again. And again. Each crack echoed through the lobby.

Nothing wipes the arrogance off a man's face quite like an open palm.

“Alice! You psycho! I'm calling the police!!”

Meg was shrieking.

You'd think those slaps had landed on her face instead.

Well, since she wanted to step up, why should I hold back?

“And you, Meg. Enjoying my ring, are you?”

One look from me was all it took. My bodyguard seized her hand, pried the pink-diamond ring off her finger, and presented it to me with both hands.

“Ms. Pruitt, your ring.”

I glanced at it with open distaste.

“Hold onto it for now.”

“Have the jeweler come pick it up. I want it fully cleaned and reconditioned before it goes back on my hand.”

“Someone else wore it. It's contaminated.”

Meg's entire face contorted, as if I'd ripped the life right out of her.

“Give it back!! That's my engagement ring! It's worth six million dollars, enough to put you behind bars for LIFE!!”

A dozen bodyguards in black stormed into the lobby.

Ken's men.

He got to his feet and brushed the dust off his suit.

Flanked by a wall of muscle, his whole demeanor shifted in an instant.

The look he gave me was pure hatred laced with fury.

Funny. I was the one who gave him the money. I was the one who bankrolled his investment. I was the one who handed him the title of president on a silver platter.

I made him rich. I lifted him out of obscurity. And he had the nerve to turn around and hate ME.

“Ms. Pruitt, get behind me. I won't let anyone touch you!!”

Rufus Harding stepped in front of me without hesitation.

That broad back was the definition of security.

He was a retired international mercenary. His skills were the real deal.

One man against a dozen? Not even a challenge.

Broad shoulders. Narrow waist.

My eyes narrowed slightly.

Mm. Room for a new fish in the pond.

Then the receptionist let out a scream.

“Oh my God——”

“It's real! It's REAL!! Check the company-wide email, everyone!!!”

“Mr. Simmons, no wait, Ken Simmons, has actually been FIRED!!”