Chapter 4 — My Arch-Nemesis Cried at My Wedding

I turned off my phone, overcome with such unbridled joy that I tumbled across my bed in a fit of delight. I immediately reported the news to Diem and her husband, Vien. They insisted on taking me out to celebrate my triumph.

Come on, let us toast to Nien Nien, who, all by her lonesome, has successfully swindled our sworn enemy into absolute financial ruin!

I raised my glass, a smirk playing on my lips. It is not quite total ruin yet; he still holds five percent of the shares in the Luc corporation.

Then you had better go back and swindle those out of him too, Vien chimed in from the side, laughing heartily.

You two are truly wicked, he added.

Diem linked her arm through her husband’s, her expression fierce. This is not wickedness; this is justice. You have no idea how ruthlessly Yen Tham treated Nien Nien back in the corporate world.

I nodded in agreement. Just last month, he threatened to oust me from the entire business district of A City. I told him then that I would be the one to make him vanish from the face of the earth.

Vien clicked his tongue, shaking his head. You two sound like a match made in heaven.

Shut up, Diem and I commanded in unison.

Halfway through the meal, I stepped away to the restroom. Upon returning, I froze. In the corner of the restaurant sat a familiar silhouette. Clad in a razor-sharp suit with broad shoulders and a slender waist, he was engaged in an animated conversation. It was Yen Tham. He was clearly here for his own business dealings. I hurriedly lowered my head, attempting to slip away, but it was too late. He had spotted me, and more importantly, he had spotted Diem and Vien sitting at my table. He muttered a quick apology to his guest and stood up, striding toward us with a look of thunderous fury on his face.

Nien Nien, he barked.

He loomed over our table, staring down at us with a chilling intensity. Is this what you call having a change of heart?

Diem looked up, unfazed. Mr. Luc, long time no see.

Yen Tham ignored her completely, his eyes locked onto mine. Are you out dining with your husband? His voice was thick with barely contained rage.

That is right, I replied coolly. Is there a problem?

Fine, he hissed. He took a deep, ragged breath, struggling to keep his composure. When exactly are you planning on getting a divorce?

Vien leaned toward Diem and whispered, Does that man have some sort of neurological condition?

Diem pinched him sharply. Quiet, just eat your food and watch the show.

Yen Tham, I am currently enjoying a meal with my husband from the Zhang family. Why don't you go back to your own business meetings?

Husband? He cast a contemptuous glance at Vien. You went out and found a husband like this?

I leaned back, feigning indignation. I spend my days looking at a perfect, stunning specimen like you—why on earth would I settle for someone so mediocre?

The table went silent. Please, just stop talking, I begged silently; I was terrified Diem might actually stab him.

Look, Yen Tham, I began.

I will wait for you outside, he snapped, refusing to let me explain.

Wait until I finish eating.

With that, he spun on his heel and strode away. His posture was perfectly rigid, and even from behind, the sheer presence of the man was undeniable—broad-shouldered, long-legged, even the back of his head looked impeccable. Yet, there was a slight stumble in his gait, as if his heart were shattering with every step. Diem watched him leave, then turned her gaze to me.

Are you really not going to tell him the truth?

If I tell him the truth, how am I supposed to keep swindling him out of his remaining projects?

You are truly wretched, she said, poking me with her chopsticks. But honestly, I love it.

Vien looked at both of us, shivering theatrically. You two are clearly the true soulmates; Diem and I are just a tragic accident.

Your self-awareness is remarkable, I told him, patting his shoulder as Diem did the same. But I noticed—Diem leaned over and gave him a secret kiss. Ah, the sour, suffocating scent of young love. When the meal concluded, I stepped out of the restaurant. Yen Tham’s black Maybach was parked at the curb, its hazard lights blinking, as flashy and arrogant as its owner. He was leaning against the car door, rolling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. The moment he saw me, he tucked it away.

Get in the car.

I drove here myself.

I am taking you home.

That is not necessary, I protested. I had swindled so much money out of him that being in his presence felt dangerous; one slip-up and my ruse would collapse. He pulled open the passenger door.

Nien Nien, get in.

I sighed, defeated, and slid into the seat.