chapter 7

The courtroom was heavy with tension, the gallery packed with spectators, and my parents' faces were ashen.

Andrew sat at the plaintiff's table, his expression a mix of sorrow and restrained anger.

His 10 years of deceitful performance had now only made me feel utter disgust.

"I have endured constant psychological pressure and financial control from Monica throughout our ten-year marriage!" he declared passionately.

"She is extremely domineering, even treating me like her personal possession. She tried to take away my freedom to enjoy something as simple as a bite of watermelon! This has seriously harmed my dignity as a man and my physical and mental health!"

He timed his show of sorrow perfectly, lowering his head in feigned remorse.

Then, his lawyer cooperatively produced several documents.

"These are Mr. Morton's personal income statements and partial asset lists over the past few years. These are all the legal earnings he made through hard work at Read Group!"

Then the lawyer pointed at me, her tone sharp. "As for the so-called marital assets of the defendant, most of them have long since ceased to exist!

"Even more outrageous, the defendant, to gain complete control of the Read family's business, fabricated facts during the divorce, intending to seize the lawful property Mr. Morton had worked so hard to accumulate, and even tried to strip him of his position in the company he had built over the years!

He held up another document. "This is the company's latest equity structure—clear as day! Mr. Morton is already the largest individual shareholder of the company!

"The defendant is demanding that Mr. Morton walk away with nothing? Isn't this blatant extortion?"

I smirked.

All this just to get a divorce and claim what was rightfully mine, and he had the nerve to paint me as a villain.

Even though I had steeled myself, at that moment, Andrew's ruthless greed made my chest tighten.

Whispers rose from the gallery, and public opinion completely favored Andrew, the "long-suffering husband," "bullied by his overbearing wife," "model husband," "good father, and "successful entrepreneur."

My lawyer spoke up at the right moment. "The plaintiff is deliberately misleading the court and twisting the facts. We have ample evidence proving that Mr. Morton is the one at fault for the breakdown of this marriage and has maliciously attempted to transfer marital assets."

Then she pulled out stacks of photographs showing Andrew and Elise over the past month before the trial—intimately embracing as they entered various hotel lobbies, walking into rooms together, and sharing candlelit dinners at upscale restaurants…

"That man is so cunning. I almost fell for it."

"So hypocritical… he really knows how to craft his image!"

"Don't think you can fool anyone now."

The gallery murmured even louder.

Andrew's smug expression began to harden, his face turning pale.

"Second piece of evidence, regarding asset transfer," my lawyer continued, presenting bank statements and scanned contracts.

"In the past three years, Mr. Morton, abusing his position, secretly transferred over two million dollars from the Read Group into his personal account through fake purchases and fabricated project expenses."

At this moment, Andrew could no longer stay seated.

Cold sweat poured from his forehead, and his voice shook. "Nonsense! That's a lie! How dare you fabricate evidence?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," I said coldly. "There's more."

I pressed play on the recording I had prepared for months.

Andrew's voice, both in his conversations with Elise at the hospital and during his calls to me, echoed clearly throughout the courtroom.

His intimate, whispered confessions to Elise, alongside the arrogant, contemptuous tone he used when berating me over the phone, became the final blow that broke him.

When the recordings ended, Andrew's eyes glazed over, and his entire body trembled uncontrollably.

The carefully constructed "victim" persona he had built collapsed completely under the weight of irrefutable evidence.

…

The judge ruled in court that Andrew would walk away with nothing.

He glared at me, his eyes filled with shock, despair, and malice. "Monica! You set me up! You won't get away with this!

"My money! My company! That's mine!"

As he shouted, he tried to lunge at me, but the bailiffs quickly stepped in and dragged him away.

I slowly stood, then walked out of the courtroom.