Chapter 8
We didn't just have evidence; we had a loaded digital weapon. But to maximize their destruction and ensure Ethan’s permanent downfall, the execution had to be flawless and unequivocally public.
I knew Ethan’s narcissistic need for control was his greatest weakness. He believed he was outsmarting me, completely unaware that our platform had already mapped the outer edges of his proxy network. I needed to lure him out of the shadows.
I called my marketing team and had them draft a fabricated, highly confidential internal memo. The memo stated that APT Vietnam was on the verge of bankruptcy due to the Meta lock, and that my only hope was a massive, multi-million-dollar acquisition deal with a major tech conglomerate. The fake memo specified that I would be finalizing the signatures on Friday night at a prestigious pediatric charity gala David was hosting at the Palace Hotel.
I had Giang quietly drop the encrypted memo into a server pathway we knew Ethan was still monitoring.
Ethan took the bait instantly. Within hours, Tới intercepted text messages between Ethan and Natalie. They were planning to crash the gala, armed with their fake deepfake data on a flash drive, to publicly humiliate me in front of the acquiring executives and kill the "acquisition" deal forever. They wanted to watch my empire burn in person.
They thought they were walking into my funeral. They didn't realize I had built their guillotine.
"Are you ready for this?" David asked as we stood in the foyer of our temporary rental on Friday evening. He looked incredibly handsome in a classic black tuxedo, adjusting his cufflinks.
"I've been ready since the day he forged my signature," I whispered, adjusting the neckline of my backless, emerald-green silk gown. The dress commanded attention; it was the armor of a woman who had completely conquered her world.
The grand ballroom of the Palace Hotel was a masterpiece of opulence, packed with the city's most powerful tech executives, medical professionals, and elite philanthropists. David and I walked through the grand double doors, an imposing, impenetrable fortress of absolute power.
At exactly 9:00 PM, the heavy mahogany doors swung open again.
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Ethan and Natalie strode in. Ethan was wearing an ill-fitting suit he clearly couldn't afford, while Natalie was draped in a flashy, desperate attempt at luxury, likely funded by maxed-out credit cards. They looked incredibly smug, clutching a flash drive that they believed held the final nail for my coffin.
They marched straight toward the main stage, completely ignoring the stunned whispers of the elite crowd. Ethan shoved past a security guard, his eyes burning with manic, desperate triumph, and grabbed the microphone from the podium.
