Chapter 3 — The Return of Attorney S

As the door clicked shut behind us, Huo Hang turned his gaze toward me.

“So, that was the man who drugged you?”

“Yes.”

“He certainly carries himself well enough,” he remarked dryly.

I could not help but let out a short, incredulous laugh. Huo Hang pushed a cup of coffee across the table toward me. “Drink something. The trial begins next week, and I don’t want a person like that to affect your state of mind.”

I accepted the cup. “Don’t worry,” I said, “he won’t.”

I had been waiting three years for this day. There was no way I would let him get under my skin now.

The day of the trial arrived. We were in Courtroom One of the City Intermediate People’s Court. The public gallery was packed; the dispute over the Huo family assets, totaling forty-seven billion, had drawn the attention of the entire legal community. I took my seat at the plaintiff’s counsel table, three folders spread out before me. Across the aisle, To Niem Dao and Pho Dien Chi sat side by side. To Niem Dao was impeccably groomed, her lips painted a bold, authoritative red, her presence radiating carefully constructed confidence. She cast a glance in my direction, the corners of her mouth curling into a smirk. I knew that expression far too well. Three years ago, when she sat in the plaintiff’s seat using my own research to win her case, she had worn that exact look.

“All rise.”

The judge took his seat and declared the session open. Representing the defendant, To Niem Dao opened the argument. She was undoubtedly more polished than she had been three years ago. Her pacing was controlled, her logic flowed seamlessly, and she cited legal precedents with surgical precision. She contended that the ex-wife of Huo Hang was entitled to fifty percent of all marital assets, including the offshore trust fund. Her core argument was simple: the trust had been established during the marriage and therefore constituted shared property. Having finished her opening, she glanced at me, her eyes communicating a silent message: you are destined to lose.

The judge turned to me. “Counsel for the plaintiff, you have the floor.”

I stood up. “Your Honor, regarding the offshore trust fund that the defense claims should be partitioned, we have three points to raise.”

“First, this trust was established in March 2019, while the period of legal marriage spanned from January 2020 to June 2023. The timeline presented by the defense counsel is factually inverted.”

To Niem Dao’s smug smile froze instantly.

“Second, this is an irrevocable trust. The settlor is Mr. Huo Zhengkun, the father of Huo Hang, and the sole beneficiary is Huo Hang himself. Pursuant to Article 1063 of the Civil Code, property acquired by one party through inheritance or gift is considered the individual property of that party. The interest generated by this trust is, by nature, a gift and does not fall under the umbrella of shared marital assets.”

To Niem Dao’s face drained of color. She looked down, frantically flipping through her documents, her movements sudden and desperate.

“Third,” I said, pulling out a specific document, “we are submitting new evidence. This is the original documentation regarding the formation of the trust, including a declaration from Mr. Huo Zhengkun, which explicitly excludes any spousal interest. Had the defense conducted a thorough due diligence, they would not have overlooked this document.”

The judge took the file and began to review it. To Niem Dao suddenly shot to her feet. “Your Honor, the plaintiff is introducing new evidence during the trial! My side requires time to verify this!”

“Counselor To,” the judge said, looking up at her, “this evidence was listed in item seventeen of the plaintiff’s evidence catalog during the pre-trial exchange. Your team signed off on that catalog during the preliminary hearing.”

To Niem Dao went rigid. She turned to look at Pho Dien Chi. He looked ashen, his hands trembling as he flipped through the minutes of the pre-trial meeting until he reached the signature page. To Niem Dao’s signature was indeed there. She had signed it, but she hadn’t bothered to read it. She had dismissed me as nothing more than a nameless lawyer from a small local firm, unworthy of her professional scrutiny.

I stood at my table, watching her panicked, disheveled search for an exit strategy. Three years ago, I had been the one standing in the gallery, watching her utilize my work, helpless to stop her. Now, the roles were reversed.

“Your Honor,” I continued, my voice steady, “regarding the remaining two properties and the company shares, we also have objections. We will now present our evidence for each point.”

For the next two hours, I dismantled To Niem Dao’s arguments piece by piece. Of the three properties she had claimed, two were pre-marital assets with ironclad ownership records. As for the company shares, one was a family enterprise owned by Huo Hang’s father, with Huo Hang acting only as a nominee, meaning it was never marital property. Each time I struck down a point, To Niem Dao paled further. Pho Dien Chi tried to salvage the situation, standing to offer rebuttals twice, but his efforts were weak and unconvincing.

Their entire case had been built on a foundation of arrogance. They had assumed the opposing counsel was incompetent, so they hadn't bothered to prepare. They hadn't verified the trust's founding date. They hadn't checked the evidence list. They hadn't prepared a fallback plan. They lost because of their pride—just as they had three years ago.