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Chapter 8
After moving out, I settled into the apartment Isaac arranged for me.
In the following days, I let Isaac take full charge of the divorce proceedings.
Brandon, of course, refused to sign without a fight.
He began playing the victim on every social media platform he could find.
He claimed I was the one who had cheated during the marriage, that I was a gold–digger who had conspired with a wealthy second–generation heir to force him out penniless.
He posted long, tear–jerking essays online, painting himself as a long–suffering family man and me as a greedy, unfaithful monster.
He even found so–called “insiders” to leak stories, depicting me as a scheming, vicious harpy.
Fiona fanned the flames from the sidelines, playing the part of the victim, hinting that I was jealous of her youth and beauty, that I was maliciously targeting her and Brandon’s “pure friendship.”
For a while, the tide of public opinion turned against me. Netizens who didn’t know the
truth rained down condemnation.
Some even came to my office building to throw eggs.
But I wasn’t worried at all.
Because in my hands, I held the evidence that could ruin them both.
One day, Isaac and I marched straight to where Brandon and Fiona were, armed with a thick stack of bank statements and surveillance footage.
We found them in the community garden
A crowd of curious neighbors had gathered, along with a few livestreamers holding up their phones.
When Brandon saw me, he tried to play his part.
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1
“Sophia, I know you’re still angry, but I truly love you. If you’re willing to come back, I can overlook what happened between you and that lawyer…”
I didn’t waste time. I threw the stack of bank statements directly in his face.
Papers flew everywhere like a farcical blizzard.
“Brandon, cut the act. These are your credit card statements from the last three years. The secondary card was issued by me, right? It was for household expenses. But look at
this.”
I pointed to the scattered statements on the ground, my voice clear and cutting.
“Every single large transaction over the last three years went to the same account.
Fiona Davis.”
A collective gasp rose from the crowd.
Brandon’s face drained of all color. “That… that was money she borrowed from me!”
“Borrowed?” I scoffed. “She needed to borrow $5200 on Valentine’s Day? With a memo that said ‘For my baby’s new bag‘? Or needed to borrow money for a reservation at a romantic couples‘ restaurant on Valentine’s Day?”
I picked up a few of the statements, flipping through them casually.
“Two Chanel bags. A full set of Dior lipsticks. One Cartier bracelet. And even these… several purchases from Victoria’s Secret for lingerie. I certainly didn’t receive any of
those.”
I looked at Brandon, my gaze icy. “Brandon, you used the card I gave you to fund another woman. Even the underwear you’re wearing right now was bought with my
money.”
Fiona, hiding behind Brandon, tried to slip away, her face ashen. But two imposing, broad–shouldered men, Isaac’s security blocked her path.
I took a step closer, forcing Brandon to meet my eyes.
“So this is your idea of ‘neighborly help‘? Using your wife’s money to play the big
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spender for another woman? This is your ‘innocence‘? Spending my money to keep a
mistress?”
“And this,” Isaac interjected smoothly, pulling out a tablet. With a few swipes of his finger, he continued, “Here is surveillance footage of you entering Fiona Davis’s apartment late at night on multiple occasions and not leaving until the following morning.”
He swiped again.
“And here we have security camera footage of your… activities… inside your vehicle in the parking garage.”
Isaac played a clip from the lobby surveillance.
It showed Brandon and Fiona in a passionate embrace, kissing fiercely against the wall. Brandon’s hands were clearly wandering under Fiona’s shirt.
Brandon’s voice, slightly muffled but unmistakable, came through,
“Just be patient, baby. Once I get that old hag’s apartment transferred to me, we’ll run away together, just you and me.”
The moment the video played, the crowd fell into a dead silence.
Then came the explosion of outrage..
“Utterly shameless!”
“That man is scum!”
“And she’s just a whore, acting so righteous as the other woman!”
Brandon collapsed onto the ground, his face the color of ashes.
Fiona covered her face, trying to flee through the hail of insults and disgusted stares,
but there was no escaping the overwhelming public humiliation.
I looked down at Brandon, the last vestige of warmth in my eyes utterly extinguished.
“Brandon, walking away with nothing is your only option now. Otherwise, I’ll have you
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charged with fraud, and you can spend the rest of your days behind bars.”
Chapter 8
