Chapter 1

Three in the morning, and the villa's living room was dead silent.

Only the phone screen on the coffee table glowed, throwing off a harsh white light.

In the alumni group chat "Harbor City High Class of '09, Section 3," the last message still sat from ten o'clock the night before, the class president tagging me, asking whether I could arrange a deputy VP slot at one of my subsidiaries for the old homeroom teacher's son.

I stared at the screen, fingertips trembling a little, and finally typed out a line:

"Everyone, I'm sorry. The company's cash flow has collapsed. Every asset under my name is frozen. Right now I don't just have nothing, I owe the bank 13 million, and tomorrow they might come take me in to assist with an investigation. The money I lent you all before… could you pay a little of it back to help me out?"

Tap. Send.

In that moment, I, Jason Dickerson, chairman of a listed group worth 30 billion, spun myself a massive lie in the dead of night.

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the cold leather sofa.

The truth was, the second I sent that line, I already knew what would happen.

But I didn't expect reality to be ten thousand times uglier than I imagined.

In under two minutes, the group blew up.

Not with concern. With people leaving.

"Danny Vaughn has left the group." "Marissa Cole has left the group."

Right after that, the class president, the one who usually called me "Jason, buddy" in the warmest voice, sent a voice message.

I played it. His tone was full of impatience: "Ugh, Jason, what did you do to yourself? Actually, it just came back to me, my wife's about to have the baby and we badly need cash, so that fifty grand I borrowed from you before, can we just forget about it? Call it a gift for the kid. You owe over ten million anyway, what's another fifty grand."

And then he left the group too.

I watched the chat go cold in seconds, and a bitter little smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

Right then the door to the master bedroom on the second floor banged open.

My wife, Antonia, came storming down in silk pajamas, face twisted with anger, phone in hand, screen shoved straight into my face.

"Jason! What kind of insanity are you posting in that group? Bankrupt? Since when are you bankrupt? My brother just put a down payment on a Porsche, and now you're telling me you're broke?!"

What she cared about wasn't whether I'd be behind bars tomorrow. It was her brother's Porsche.

I looked at this woman who'd shared my bed for five years, and my heart went cold all the way through.

I came up from the bottom, in sales.

Those days of wearing a cheap suit in the dead of summer, getting chased out of office towers like a stray dog, I lived that for a full five years.

Then the internet boom hit, and I bet everything, threw my life into it.

Drank until my stomach bled. Answered emails with an IV in my arm in the ER.

It took me ten years to turn a tiny little workshop into a tech group now worth tens of billions.

I had money. I really did.

In this city, when I stamped my foot, whole industries shook.

But I realized I had no life left. I'd become an ATM with no feelings.

Especially where Antonia was concerned.

Antonia and I were high school classmates. Back then I was poor, and she was the prettiest girl in class. We never got together, but after graduation we both came to the same city to make our way, and being from the same hometown drew us closer.

I married her when my career was climbing. I thought she was the good wife who'd live out this life with me.

For the first two years of marriage, she really was.

She'd get up early to make me porridge, and worry over me drinking too much at business dinners.

But as my wealth multiplied, she changed.

Or maybe money was just a magnifying glass, and it brought out the greediest part of her.

"Honey, my mom says the old house back home is too worn out, it's not comfortable to live in, she wants a villa instead." Without a second thought, I wired five million.

"Honey, my brother's getting married, the bride's side wants a dowry, and a car too." I said not a word and took care of all of it.

Somewhere along the way, the look in her eyes lost its love. All that was left was sizing me up and doing the math.

She no longer cared whether my stomach hurt. Only whether the balance in my accounts was big enough.

Just yesterday, going over the books, I found an unusual expense.

Three million.

The memo said "household expenses."

But I had finance trace it, and the money ended up in the account of an underground casino.

I didn't have to think about who did it. Antonia's good-for-nothing brother, Ned Lawrence.

I took the statement home and confronted Antonia.

She was sitting there with a thousand-dollar sheet mask on her face, lazily admiring her manicure. "Oh come on, Ned just doesn't know any better, he lost a little money and he's scared someone's going to break his hands. You're so rich, three million is pocket change to you, right? Do you really have to yell at me over it?"

"Pocket change?"

I choked down my anger and slapped the statement on the table. "Antonia, that's three million, not three hundred bucks! And this is the third time he's gambled! You're not helping him, you're destroying him!"

Antonia ripped off the mask and glared at me. "Jason, you've changed. You didn't used to be like this. Now that you've got money, you've started looking down on my family, is that it? Don't forget, back when you were struggling the hardest to build the company, who was the one cooking and doing your laundry!"

That line again.

Every time I didn't give her what she wanted, she trotted out that line.

But she'd forgotten. Back when I was struggling the hardest, the one who actually ate instant ramen with me, who lived in a basement with me, wasn't her at all.

That was Fern.

The name alone sent a sharp ache through my heart.

Where was Antonia back then?

She was doing admin at a foreign company, worshiping money and despising the poor, all wrapped up in some rich boy with a BMW, never sparing me so much as a glance.

It wasn't until the eve of my company going public, after that rich boy dumped her, that she came running back to me in tears, saying old classmates were the ones who truly knew each other's hearts.

And I was blind back then too. Or maybe, to get back at the boy I used to be, that boy full of self-doubt, I actually let myself end up with her.

"Jason, let me tell you, tomorrow you'd better wire Ned another two million, he's still got some loan-shark debt to clear." Antonia commanded me like it was her right. "Otherwise I'm going back to my parents' place and you can do this alone!"

Looking at that face, every inch of it written over with want, I was suddenly overcome with disgust.

I had 30 billion in wealth, and I couldn't buy a single ounce of genuine care.

And that was the moment I thought of the test.

If I had nothing left, would these people still stay by my side?

I didn't expect the answer to come this fast, this naked.

Ten minutes after I posted the "bankrupt" message in the group, Antonia had already changed her clothes and was dragging two enormous Rimowa suitcases behind her.

She moved so briskly it left me speechless.

"Let's get divorced."

She stood in the middle of the living room and tossed a document that had clearly been prepared long ago onto the coffee table, watching me coldly.

I picked it up.

《Divorce Agreement》.

The date was actually from a month ago.

So she'd had it ready all along. She'd only been waiting for the right moment. Or waiting to squeeze the last drop of blood out of me.