MY HUSBAND GAVE MY ESTATE TO HIS PREGNANT MISTRESS—HE DIDN’T KNOW I HAD PHOTOS OF HIM SLEEPING WITH HER MOTHER / Chapter 16 / 20

Chapter 16 - The Phantom BidderSix months after the fall of Apex Media, the world belonged to us.

Slink v2 had officially launched, and it wasn’t just a success—it was a financial earthquake. We had successfully monopolized the highest-tier US traffic arbitrage routes, funneling millions of daily impressions from Facebook and X directly into our heavily optimized Google AdX and AdSense dashboards. The revenue wasn’t just flowing; it was an avalanche. We had upgraded our secondary office, expanded our proxy networks, and our thirty-person staff was operating with the lethal precision of a digital special forces unit.

Tonight was the victory lap. We were hosting a private gala at the penthouse of the Four Seasons to celebrate the launch.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the master suite, adjusting the diamond clasp of my emerald-green silk gown. The dress was a weapon in itself—sleek, unapologetic, and demanding absolute attention.

The door opened, and Ethan walked in. He wore a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo that stretched flawlessly across his broad shoulders. He looked like James Bond, but with a darker, infinitely more dangerous edge. He stepped up behind me, his eyes catching mine in the mirror, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"You look breathtaking," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a familiar thrill down my spine. "The board members downstairs are terrified of you. It’s highly arousing."

I smirked, leaning back against his solid chest. "They should be terrified. I doubled their portfolios in sixty days. If they step out of line, I can wipe them out in ten."

"That’s my girl," he kissed the side of my neck, lingering for a second before pulling back. "Ready to go hold court?"

The ballroom was a sea of champagne, flashing cameras, and Silicon Valley elites desperate for a sliver of our time. I navigated the room with Ethan at my side, a queen surveying her conquered territory. But twenty minutes into the reception, Chloe, my head of operations, stepped through the crowd. Her face was pale, her expression tight.

"Megan," Chloe whispered, leaning in close. "There’s someone in the VIP lounge. He bypassed our private security list. He says he represents Vanguard Holdings."

Ethan’s posture instantly shifted from relaxed billionaire to apex predator. Vanguard Holdings wasn’t a company; it was a ghost. A shadowy consortium of old-money billionaires and rogue state actors who bought out tech monopolies and buried anyone who refused to sell.

"Keep an eye on Leo’s security detail," I told Ethan quietly. "I’ll handle this."

"I’m coming with you," Ethan replied, his tone leaving zero room for negotiation.

We walked into the dimly lit VIP lounge. Sitting on a velvet sofa, swirling a glass of our thousand-dollar scotch, was a man with silver hair and dead, reptilian eyes. He wore a gray suit that probably cost more than most people’s homes.

"Megan Vance," the man smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "And the infamous Ethan. I am Julian Croft. Please, sit."

"You have exactly sixty seconds to explain how you got past my biometric scanners before my husband throws you through that plate-glass window," I said, remaining standing, my arms crossed.

Croft chuckled, unbothered. "I have friends in very high places, Megan. I represent Vanguard. We’ve been watching Slink v2. Your AI-driven media generation, your Python automation, your unbannable proxy routing—it’s brilliant. We want it."

He reached into his jacket and tossed a heavy, embossed envelope onto the glass table.

"Ten billion dollars," Croft said smoothly. "Cash. Deposited into any offshore account you choose by tomorrow morning. You sign over Slink Network, the algorithms, and the US Facebook pages. You take your beautiful family, and you disappear to an island."

I didn't even look at the envelope. I looked Croft dead in the eye.

"Slink is not for sale," I said, my voice dripping with absolute ice. "Not for ten billion. Not for fifty. Get out of my party."

Croft’s smile vanished. The room temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. "You misunderstand, Mrs. Vance. This wasn’t an offer. It was a courtesy notification. You have disrupted markets that belong to people far more powerful than you. If you don't take the check, we will take your network. And we will not be gentle about it."

Ethan stepped forward, grabbing Croft by the lapels of his suit and lifting him an inch off the ground. "If you ever come near my wife or my company again," Ethan whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal intent, "I will dismantle you piece by piece."