Chapter 2 : The Plan
The next day at 2:50 p.m., I arrived at the Central Park Boat House Cafe ahead of schedule.
I ordered a black coffee and sat in the corner.
At exactly three o'clock, Catherine pushed open the door and came in.
Wearing a dark blue suit, her hair simply tied up, and without makeup.
She was nothing like the fourteen-year-old girl I remembered.
"Mr. Grant," she said, sitting down opposite me, "I'll still call you Alexander . "
"How long have you been back in New York?"
"Three months and five days." She looked me straight in the eye. "The fact that you only thought to ask yesterday proves that Vivian has been all you've ever seen in these past three months."
I didn't refute it.
What do you want to talk to me about?
"cooperate."
What kind of cooperation?
"Destroy Silvercrest Capital."
Catherine showed no surprise, simply taking a sip of the lemonade the waiter brought: "Do you want to ruin it, or do you want to ruin Vivian?"
"I want it cut clean."
"Then you've come to the wrong person." She put down her cup. "A lawyer is all you need for the dissection; I'm not required."
"I don't need a lawyer," I said, staring at her. "I need concrete evidence of the Silvercrest Ponzi scheme, I need to distance myself from it before the SEC gets involved, and I need to ensure the Grant family isn't dragged down. Can you do that?"
Catherine remained silent for a few seconds.
"I can."
"condition?"
"I want Silvercrest completely bankrupt, Richard utterly disgraced, and Vivian to lose everything."
There was no hatred on her face, only a terrifyingly calm resolve.
"Why?"
"Because when I was fourteen, Vivian told the whole school that I seduced you." Her voice was flat. "My mother was forced to take me away from New York to London to protect me. That day I stood by the pool, and you looked at me with disgust in your eyes. Do you remember?"
I remember.
I believed Vivian at the time, thinking that Catherine was the kind of girl who would use tricks to get ahead.
"I don't remember seducing you," Catherine continued. "I only remember you helping me retrieve the textbooks Vivian threw into the pool, and I wanted to thank you, but you didn't even look at me."
"Then what?"
"Then I spent ten years transforming myself into someone worthy of standing beside you." She stood up. "Tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock, Blackwood's New York office. My mother has collected ten years' worth of dirt on Richard. You come to verify its authenticity, and if you find it useful, we'll work together."
She turned to leave, and I called out to her, "Cufflinks."
She stopped in her tracks.
"I've always worn the cufflinks you gave me when I was fourteen."
Catherine didn't turn around: "I know. Every time I see your photos on social media, I check if you're wearing it on your wrist."
Why was the Grant family crest chosen?
"Because when I was fourteen, I saw you wearing the family cufflinks to a charity gala." She finally turned around. "I wanted to one day be someone worthy of that crest."
After saying that, she pushed the door open and left.
Sunlight streamed through the glass window and fell on the empty seat she had left behind.
I looked at the glass of lemonade that I had only taken a sip of.
ten years.
She spent ten years making herself worthy of me.
Back in the apartment, I opened the bottom drawer of the safe.
The cufflinks lay quietly in the velvet box.
Made of silver, hand-engraved with the Grant family crest—a winged eagle at the center of the shield, its talons grasping an olive branch and a sword.
I've been wearing it since I was fourteen.
I never imagined how much effort Catherine had put into finding this.
At that time, my family's custom cufflinks were only sold in one antique shop in London. Only ten pairs were made each year, and they needed to be ordered in advance.
How did they manage to get a fourteen-year-old girl?
I picked up my phone and dialed my mother's number.
"Alexander?" Eleanor's voice sounded tired. "What's wrong?"
"Mom, do you know about the cufflinks Catherine gave me when I was fourteen?"
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
"I know," the mother sighed. "That child called me and asked what you liked. I told her you'd always wanted a pair of family crest cufflinks, but the shop in London has an order booked until next year."
"Then what?"
"Then she flew to London herself and waited outside the shop for three days." The mother's voice softened. "The shop owner was moved and gave her the pair he had reserved for his son."
I gripped my phone tighter.
Why didn't you tell me?
"I told you," her mother said, "but back then you only had eyes for Vivian. You said Catherine was seducing you and told me not to mention her again."
I closed my eyes.
"Mom, I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize to me," the mother paused, "but you owe Catherine an apology, one you've owed for ten years."
After hanging up the phone, I sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window and stared at the cufflinks for a long time.
A fourteen-year-old girl flew to London and waited outside an antique shop for three days.
It was just to give me a gift.
I didn't even glance at her.
At 2 p.m. the following afternoon, I arrived at Blackwood’s New York office on time.
My assistant led me to the conference room, where Catherine and an elegant middle-aged woman were already waiting.
"Alexander," Victoria stood up, "it's been ten years."
"Aunt Victoria," I shook her hand, "thank you for your help."
"It's not me helping you," Victoria glanced at Catherine, "it's my daughter who wants to help you."
She pointed to three large boxes next to the conference table: "These are the materials I've collected about Richard Shaw over the past ten years. Financial statements, emails, bank statements, shell company registration documents. You can verify them page by page."
I walked over to the boxes and opened the first one.
The documents were neatly organized by year, and each page had a label.
I started flipping through the pages one by one.
In the first hour, I reviewed Silvercrest Capital's financial statements for the past five years.
In the second hour, I checked the registration documents of the thirteen shell companies under Richard's name.
In the third hour, I tracked three suspicious fund flows.
In the fourth hour, I pieced together all the evidence.
When I looked up, it was already dark outside the window.
Catherine sat across from me, not saying a word, just quietly watching me work.
"These materials only go up to the 'second level'." I closed the last document. "The prima facie evidence of a Ponzi scheme is there, but the most crucial element is missing."
"What?"
"Where did the bridge loan go?" I pointed to a figure on the financial report. "Three months ago, after Silvercrest was rejected by four investment banks, Richard still managed to secure a $20 million bridge loan. Where did this money come from, and where did it go?"
Catherine and Victoria exchanged a glance.
"We can't find it," Victoria admitted. "The money's path was handled very cleanly; our resources don't reach that level."
"That's why you need me."
"We need the Grant family," Catherine corrected. "Blackwood has connections in the tech and finance world, but only you can influence Wall Street."
I stood up: "Give me three days."
"what are you up to?"
"Find out where those twenty million went," I said, picking up my coat. "Then we'll talk about the next step."
As I reached the door, I glanced back at Catherine.
"Thank you for the cufflinks. And I'm sorry."
She paused for a moment, then smiled.
That was the first time I saw her smile.
"Ten years have passed, and I've finally heard those words."
That evening, I went directly to the headquarters of Grant Investment Bank.
Eleanor, Eleanor's mother, is still working overtime in the office.
"Mom, I need your help." I laid out the materials Victoria had provided on her table. "Silvercrest Capital received a $20 million bridge loan three months ago, and I need to find out where the funds came from and where they went."
The mother put on her reading glasses and looked carefully for ten minutes.
"This money isn't clean." She looked up. "It went through private channels, bypassing all formal regulations. Are you sure you want to pursue this?"
"Sure."
"The person behind Richard Shaw is no ordinary individual," my mother reminded me. "Are you ready?"
"Ready."
The mother was silent for a few seconds, then picked up the phone.
"James, contact Goldman Sachs' internal audit department for me. I need to retrieve a transaction record..."
After hanging up the phone, she looked at me and said, "I'll give you an answer in three days. But Alexander, if you continue down this path, you and Vivian will truly never be able to go back."
"We could never go back anyway."
The mother nodded: "Then let's do it. Go and settle all the accounts that need settling."
As I walked out of my office, the Manhattan skyline stretched out beneath my feet.
The city is brightly lit, but under every light, people are scheming, deceiving, and betraying.
But some people are waiting, growing, and spending ten years making themselves worthy of someone.
I looked down at the cufflinks on my wrist.
The eagle's wings gleamed silver under the light.
Ten years ago, Catherine stood outside that antique shop in London for three days.
Now, it's my turn to pay off this debt.
