Chapter 3

At 3 PM, I sat on the second floor of a bookstore, through the window I could clearly see the entrance to our apartment building.

A black sedan parked downstairs, and Jessica emerged with a middle-aged man in a suit. From the briefcase in his hand, it was obviously a real estate agent.

I dialed the surveillance phone.

"Ms. Jessica, are you certain about this price?" The agent's voice sounded confused. "This apartment's market value is at least $800,000. You're only asking for $400,000, it's too..."

"I don't care about market value!" Jessica's voice was hysterical. "I need cash right now! I must have the money before tonight!"

They entered the apartment building.

I knew the show was about to begin.

Fifteen minutes later, my encrypted phone rang.

"Sir, the legal lockdown program has been triggered. When the target attempted to dispose of the property, the system automatically activated the highest-level property protection mechanism."

"Details?"

"When the real estate agent verified the property rights, they discovered this apartment has been flagged by a global top-tier legal team as 'suspected international money laundering,' with all transactions permanently frozen. Our legal representatives are currently en route to the scene."

I leaned back in my chair, continuing to observe the activity below.

Twenty minutes later, a white business van stopped outside the apartment building. Three lawyers in crisp suits emerged, led by my chief legal officer—Miller, known as the "Legal Butcher."

They walked directly into the apartment building.

Five minutes later, Jessica was thrown out like garbage.

She shrieked hysterically downstairs, but Miller couldn't be bothered to spare her a glance.

The agent was even more frightened, his face pale as he hurried into his car and fled.

I checked the time—4:30 PM.

Three hours until the charity gala began.

No money, no admission ticket, no bargaining chips.

But knowing Jessica as I did, she would never give up. Vanity would drive her to make even more foolish decisions.

Sure enough, I watched her hail a taxi heading straight for downtown Washington.

I called Shadow: "Follow her."

"Already tracking, sir. Target is heading to the Hilton Hotel, tonight's charity gala venue."

One hour later, Washington Hilton Hotel.

I sat in a café across from the hotel, watching through floor-to-ceiling windows as this farce was about to unfold.

The red carpet was laid out, media reporters had set up their cameras.

Political elites began arriving in succession, luxury cars one after another.

Then I saw Jessica.

She wore what was obviously a cheap imitation evening gown from a discount store, her makeup crude and rough.

Compared to the genuine socialites around her, she looked like Cinderella who had mistakenly crashed a ball.

She tried to enter through the main entrance but was immediately stopped by security.

"Madam, please present your invitation."

"I... I'm Jessica Smith. I've donated $150,000 to Senator Davis's foundation!"

The security guard checked on his tablet and frowned: "Sorry, madam. The system shows your donation check was returned by the bank due to insufficient funds."

Jessica's face instantly turned pale: "That's impossible! There must be some mistake!"

"Also," the security guard continued, "our backend shows you're currently listed as a 'credit bankrupt,' which doesn't meet our entry standards."

"Credit bankrupt?" Jessica screamed. "I want to see Senator Davis! I want to see him!"

At that moment, several genuine political socialites stepped out of luxury cars. Seeing the commotion, they whispered among themselves.

"Isn't that the Smith family daughter?"

"The one who always brags about marrying into politics?"

"I heard her husband is just a veteran living on disability benefits."

"My God, she actually thought she could enter a charity gala wearing such cheap knockoffs?"

"Look, she's being thrown out!"

Media reporters smelled gossip and turned their cameras toward Jessica.

Flashbulbs strobed frantically, recording every moment of her humiliation as she was driven away like a stray dog.

Jessica tried to block the cameras, but it was too late.

Those humiliating photos would soon spread throughout Washington's social circles.

Suddenly it began to rain heavily.

She stood in the rain for a long time, soaked through.

The image of her dream socialite life shattered completely.

Finally, she hailed a taxi to a destination I had expected—Senator Davis's private residence.

I couldn't believe when she had gotten involved with Senator Davis.

I left the café and drove after her.

Davis's mansion was located in Georgetown, Washington's wealthiest district, covering a vast area with well-manicured lawns and fountains visible through the iron gates.

Jessica knocked on the door in the rain.

Minutes later, Senator Davis appeared at the entrance.

He was around sixty, with graying hair and a portly figure—the typical appearance of an old politician.

"Jessica? How did you..." Davis looked at her bedraggled state. "What happened?"

"Davis, save me!" Jessica threw herself into his arms. "Victor's gone mad! He froze all my accounts and hid Lily! I have nothing left!"

Davis brought her into the mansion.

I sat in my car, using Shadow's drone equipment to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Calm down." Davis poured Jessica a drink. "You said Victor froze your accounts? How could a veteran have that kind of power?"

"I don't know either!" Jessica wept. "The bank said I'm suspected of money laundering, and the house was frozen by the court! Those lawyers and armed personnel definitely weren't people an ordinary person could hire!"

Davis fell into thought.

As an old fox who had navigated Washington for decades, he realized things weren't that simple.

"Wait a moment." Davis went to his study and made a phone call. "Bill? Help me check someone, Victor Smith, a veteran... What? What did you say?"

Minutes later, Davis returned to the living room, his face pale.

"What's wrong?" Jessica asked nervously.

"Jessica, your husband... how much money does he have in his accounts?"

"Not much, just tens of thousands in disability and veteran benefits. Why?"

Davis took a deep breath: "I just had someone check the frozen accounts. Jessica, do you know how much money is in that account?"

"How much?"

"Twenty billion dollars."

Jessica's eyes widened: "What? That's impossible!"

Davis paced around the room, greed gleaming in his eyes: "Twenty billion... This definitely isn't normal veteran benefits. An ordinary soldier couldn't possibly have this much money, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless he pocketed warlord money during overseas secret missions." Davis's voice became excited. "Jessica, do you know what this means? If we can prove this is illegal funding, then according to law, this money will be confiscated by the state, and as whistleblowers and victims, we could get a considerable portion..."

"You mean?"

"I mean," Davis gripped Jessica's hands, "we're going to bring down Victor and legally obtain those twenty billion dollars."

I listened to this conversation from outside the mansion and couldn't help but sneer.

Greed is always stupidity's catalyst.

These two fools actually thought my legitimate assets were black money they could divide.

They could never imagine that twenty billion was just the tip of the iceberg of my global assets.

Even more laughable was their delusion of using the state apparatus against me.

I picked up my encrypted phone: "Shadow, any changes in Washington?"

"Sir, according to surveillance intelligence, Senator Davis is contacting media and judicial departments, preparing to fabricate a scandal about you. They plan to accuse you of stealing national assets on all major American media tomorrow morning."

"Excellent." I started the car, preparing to leave. "Let them perform to their hearts' content. The higher they jump, the harder they'll fall."

"Do we need to respond in advance?"

"No need." My voice was cold as ice. "Let the storm rage more fiercely. Only then will the final thunder be truly shocking."

I drove away from Georgetown, disappearing into Washington's night.