Chapter 2 The Cold Reckoning

After Raymond leaves, I stand by the window, watching the traffic below. It feels like I’m in a giant lab—and Raymond’s my latest “test subject.”

I open my laptop again, but I don’t break down. Instead, I act like an emotional algorithm engineer, calculating the “loss value” of my life with cold precision.

For ten years, I’ve poured all my research earnings and royalties into what Raymond called “our mutual investments.” Now I see it—every dollar was just a rung on his ladder to the top.

I text Julia Reed—my best friend, my lawyer.

After I tell her everything, calm as can be, she cuts straight to the point “This isn’t just a professor cheating. This is financial fraud. Raymond’s guilty of bigamy and embezzlement.”

“I need a chain of evidence,” I say, my voice steady like I’m talking lab results. “Every transfer leads back to Emma and his mom—scattered, but traceable.”

Julia nods. “Emma’s his weak spot. Manipulative girls like her slip up when their own gain’s on the line.”

“Got it.”

Back in my bedroom, I pull out the jewelry I’ve saved for years—not to wear, but to sell. It’s not about the money. It’s about my dignity.

I adjust my routine. By day, I’m still the careful associate professor, helping students with lab work. But my eyes? They’re colder, sharper now.

At night, I dive into financial law and evidence gathering. I find out Raymond didn’t just move money to an offshore trust—he set up a shell company in Hong Kong to run a “fake investment,” laundering millions in public funds.

Every new detail makes my anger run deeper.

But I don’t yell at him. I don’t confront him. Instead, I get “nicer.”

“Raymond, you look worn out. Is the research stress getting to you?”

He slumps on the couch, soaking up the attention. “Yeah, some projects need tons of cash. Keeps me up at night.”

I walk over and massage his shoulders. My fingertips brush his neck—cold, deliberate.

I know his “cash flow issues” are just another step in moving our money.

“Don’t push yourself. Use whatever’s at home—I trust you.”

“I knew you’d get it,” he mumbles, pulling me close.

I think, ‘To me, you’re just a number waiting to be settled.’

That night, Raymond meets Emma at a fancy restaurant.

I turn on a tiny recorder and watch via remote—clear as day, Raymond hands Emma an offshore trust certificate.

“This is yours. With this, we start fresh,” he says softly.

Emma snuggles into him. “Professor Hale, you’re the best. That old woman doesn’t deserve you.”

I watch the footage without blinking.

I add this video as the first link in my evidence chain.

‘He thinks he’s directing the show,’ I think, ‘but I’m the one holding the script.’

While going through old stuff, I find a torn page from Raymond’s diary

“I hate being called man who married up，Only absolute wealth lets me ‘rebirth.’ What’s one woman’s loss?”

I tuck the page with my other evidence. This is the key to why he did it.

Now I don’t just have proof of transfers—I have proof he never cared about our marriage.

My revenge isn’t just divorce. I want him to lose everything—his name, his money, his whole life.