On the eve of the divorce, the husband and his mistress were raising glasses of red wine to toast their victory when the phone rang: their entire fortune had vanished, and handcuffs were waiting for them
I. The Fragrance of Red Wine and the Taste of Betrayal
The luxury apartment standing forlornly on that street corner was drenched in the yellowish, flickering light of lamps cast from the opposite skyscraper. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume mingling with the bittersweet taste of fine red wine swirling within delicate crystal glasses.
The man sat sprawled on the imported leather sofa, a smug, distorted smile still lingering on the corners of his lips. Across from him sat the young female colleague—the little mistress whom he had used his whole heart, mind, and dirtiest tricks to pamper over the past period. She wore a thin silk dress, languidly leaning her head against his shoulder, her bright red lips softly uttering sweet words pouring into his ears:
— “There is only this one single night left, tomorrow everything will officially belong to us. That useless ex-wife at home will have to pack her bags and walk out empty-handed, and you will be the true master of this massive fortune.”
He laughed loudly, a triumphant laugh echoing through the soundproof glass window. In his head at that moment, the picture of a luxurious, powerful future was completed down to the tiniest details. He considered himself a genius brain, a clever hunter who knew how to trap the entire financial system to cleanly disperse all joint assets, cornering his loyal wife into the ultimate depths of isolation and poverty.
To prepare for that glorious moment, over the past six months, he had step-by-step shifted cash flows, funneling lucrative contracts into cover accounts under the name of the young mistress. He believed she was the most perfect puzzle piece, the most loyal ally who would walk with him to the peak of fame.
And thus, on the dark night before the divorce trial took place, they raised their glasses to toast a victory he firmly believed was securely in the palm of his hand.
II. The Trap Camouflaged by Beauty and Greed
Yet he completely forgot an immutable rule of the business arena: Things achieved through sin usually carry the seed of the fastest destruction.
His mistress was not nearly as simple as the innocent, naive facade she always acted out in front of him. In reality, she was a sharp pawn in a much larger game—a game secretly set up piece by piece by the loyal wife at home years ago.
In his eyes, that wife was merely a silent shadow, someone who year-round knew only the cramped kitchen corner and submissive sighs of resignation. He never realized that beneath that submissive exterior lay a cold, terrifyingly sharp mind. The wife did not throw tantrums or engage in common catfights; she chose to observe every move of her husband, quietly noting every asset-dispersal behavior, and above all, she skillfully steered all dirty money streams he smuggled out into financial transactions heavily marked with the mistress’s personal legal identity.
Every anonymous account, every international bank card he stealthily set up for her was tightly linked to an underground monitoring system controlled by financial crime prevention authorities beforehand. She thought she was the asset master, but in reality, she was merely voluntarily wearing golden handcuffs specially designed by the lawful first wife.
III. The Fateful Ringtone Tearing Open the Dark Night
— “Cheers! To our future!” – He raised his glass of red wine high, burning with momentum, clinking forcefully against his mistress’s glass.
At the exact second the crystal glasses collided, producing a pleasant, crisp sound, the mobile phone resting on the glass table suddenly rang.
That was not an ordinary call ringtone. It was the sharp, rapid, and stern sound of a continuous series of bank system notifications pouring in: Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!
The mistress frowned slightly, dropping her wine glass, picking up her phone with a nonchalant expression intending to turn off the screen to continue the fun. But the moment her gaze swept across the first notification flashing brightly on the glowing screen, the rosy hue on her face instantly drained away, turning into the ash-gray color of a corpse.
— “What’s wrong, babe?” – He scoffed, teasing. – “Who on earth is texting to ruin our fun in the middle of the night?”
She did not reply. Her hands trembled violently, dropping the phone onto the thick furry rug. The phone screen still shone brightly, continuously displaying blazing red text that threw her core into turmoil:
[URGENT NOTICE: ACCOUNT PERMANENTLY FROZEN] [CONTENT: SUSPICIOUS TRANSACTIONS DETECTED RELATED TO INTERNATIONAL MONEY LAUNDERING AND FINANCIAL FRAUD CRIMES] [INVESTIGATIVE AUTHORITIES HAVE TAKEN OVER ALL ASSETS REGISTERED UNDER THIS PERSONAL ACCOUNT NAME]
— “No… Impossible!” – The mistress screamed out in a cracking voice, hastily bending down to pick up the phone like a madwoman, swiping frantically through other banking apps.
Empty. All accounts, investment funds, and real estate portfolios registered under her name… entirely displayed the status FROZEN. Tens of billions of dong, the colossal fortune he had just spent so much effort dispersing over, had instantly evaporated completely beyond control.
IV. Spreading Panic and the Looming Nightmare
He froze, the glass of red wine in his hand swaying slightly, dark red liquid splashing out, dripping onto his pristine white shirt looking precisely like dull bloodstains.
— “What did you say? What do you mean frozen? How can it be frozen when all of them are personal secure accounts registered in your name?!” – He lunged forward frantically, snatching the phone from his mistress’s hands.
Finished reading the notification texts, his face drained of every drop of blood. His eyes widened to their limits, his chest tightening so hard he couldn’t breathe. Everything before his eyes began to wobble and spin.
The mistress at that moment had completely broken down. She collapsed onto the floor, grabbing his collar, screaming in utter panic:
— “What devilish trick did you pull?! You told me this was clean money you earned! Why did it turn into money laundering now?! The economic police are moving in! They’re coming to arrest me soon! You tricked me, didn’t you?! You wanted to use me as a scapegoat?!”
— “Shut your mouth!” – He roared, shoving her away hard, his ears ringing, his brain exploding as if thousands of blocks of explosives had just been detonated.
He realized a brutal truth: That money wasn’t frozen due to a random system error. The fact that all accounts registered in her name were simultaneously hit with freeze orders for money laundering could only happen when there was an extremely rigorous legal dossier system, full of evidence approved in advance by internal investigative agencies and the central bank. And the person capable of leading them both by the nose into this sophisticated trap was none other than the loyal wife he intended to kick out onto the street tomorrow morning.
V. The Siren Tearing Open the Dark Night and the Betrayer’s End
The breezy luxury apartment suddenly turned into a suffocating, inescapable iron cage.
Before he could steady himself after such a massive mental shock, piercing, stern wails of police sirens echoed up from the street below. Flashing blue and red lights shone straight through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, casting flickering, dreary beams of light across the living room wall.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
Heavy, decisive knocks sounded out in the hallway, completely breaking the stillness of the late night.
The mistress clutched her face and wept desperately, scrambling to hide in the bathroom like a trapped animal. Meanwhile, he stood paralyzed in the middle of the living room, his limbs growing weak, unable to lift his feet. The glass of red wine on the table fell to the floor and shattered into pieces, the dark red liquid splattered across the floor looking precisely like a smear of blood marking the end.
The apartment door was smashed open from the outside. A group of economic crime police officers in solemn uniforms stepped in, holding ready search warrants and emergency arrest warrants.
He opened his mouth to justify himself, intending to utter meaningless defensive words, but all words choked in his throat by a bitter truth: He had completely lost. The scheming game he imagined turned out to be just a play orchestrated by his loyal wife, and he along with the greedy mistress were merely two puppets voluntarily stepping onto the scaffold built by their own hands.
On the night before the divorce trial, instead of raising glasses to celebrate victory over dispersed assets, he had to face cold steel handcuffs and a dark future behind prison bars. Greed, cruelty, and betrayal had ultimately buried his life by his own hands into the deepest swamp of retribution.
