After the 99th Scandal: I Took Everything

The sound of me opening the door startled them both. James Smith reluctantly let go of Sophia Brown.

Neither of them showed a trace of guilt on their faces. Instead, they looked annoyed at being interrupted by me.

I felt sick to my stomach, but my voice remained calm. "Looks like I need to prepare the hundredth press conference for your mistress."

James wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into his arms. "Don't worry, honey. This time I'll be very careful. I won't let those damn paparazzi get any photos that could affect the company's funding plans."

He planted a kiss on my forehead.

The lipstick mark from Sophia's lips was now stamped on my forehead, making me look like a clown.

Sophia's trembling shoulders weren't from fear—she was trying hard not to laugh at how ridiculous I looked.

After they left, I had someone throw out that desk.

The woman's fluids still remained on it, as if mocking me, the cowardly wife.

I opened the hidden system on my phone, and a text message popped up right then: [Stock price dropped again. Stabilized the situation with an anonymous acquisition. After the 72-hour equity transfer period, you'll be the largest shareholder of James's company.]

[Meet me at the coffee shop downstairs in half an hour.]

My heart suddenly tightened in my chest—not from pain, but from an almost explosive, breakthrough kind of excitement.

I opened the window to let fresh air in.

To clear out the lingering smell of sex in the room.

Maybe I could get a new office.

I turned and looked through layers of glass and busy crowds, my eyes locking onto the largest room in this building—James's office.

In seventy-two hours, that would belong to me.

I sent a text to the HR director, then headed to the coffee shop downstairs.

In the VIP room, my father had already ordered my favorite coffee.

We hadn't seen each other in ten years. He had fine lines around his eyes now.

But those stern eyes were still as sharp as they were ten years ago. When our eyes met, I felt like I was back on that rainy night ten years ago.

His voice was ice cold. "Emily Johnson, if you choose to leave with that poor boy today, don't ever set foot in any door of the Johnson family again."

"You will be removed from the Johnson family. Think carefully."

But at eighteen, I was completely drunk on the sweetness of love, not clear-headed for a single moment.

My father's eyes turned red.

His slightly trembling hands revealed that his heart wasn't as calm as his surface appeared.

And my tears had already broken through. "I'm sorry, Dad. I was wrong."

I knelt at his feet, burying my face against his knees. His warm palm gently stroked my hair.

"It's okay, Emily. The Johnson family has been waiting for you to come home."

"I told you long ago that James wasn't worth your trust."

"Look at what he's done to you these past ten years. If he hadn't applied for angel funding and come into my view, you would have lost everything."

Three years ago, James applied to the Johnson family for angel funding to expand his company.

And that was when my father suddenly had someone contact me, telling me the devastating news that almost destroyed me.

James had used various methods to dilute and pledge away all the shares under my name until there was nothing left.

Legally, my control and earnings from "the Smith Group" had long been nothing but a formality.

"The divorce papers are ready, Emily."

"At the Series C funding round in three days, I want you to personally host it as the heiress of the Johnson family."

I put the divorce agreement in my bag, wiped the tears from my face, and my eyes became incredibly determined. "Don't worry, Dad."