“Wedding of the Century” turns into a nightmare: Groom collapses as a powerful female CEO approaches and calls his ex-wife “darling”!
I. The Transaction Contract Sealed in Ashes
There are men born with a bottomless greed yet equipped with the short, earth-bound legs of ground-crawlers. He was a classic example. In that certain city, where winding alleys were year-round thick with the smell of grease and honeycomb charcoal smoke, he used to be a scrawny ghost, struggling through pathetic days alongside his faithful, devoted wife.
That wife had nothing save calloused hands and a razor-sharp intellect hidden beneath a tattered fabric shirt. During their most destitute years, when the house held only a few boiled sweet potatoes and the wind whistling through the rotted window gaps, she was the one who stood behind his every early career step. She mapped out his initial crude business strategies, shouldered the crushing debts herself, and turned a penniless man into an executive with a modest name in the fierce commercial arena.
Yet when poverty receded, when expensive custom suits began to hug his once-tattered frame, gratitude in his soul quickly evaporated into imported cigar smoke.
In that man’s eyes, his devoted wife was now no different from a worn-out stain, a living witness to a pathetic past he wanted to scrub clean. She was too calm, too plain, and understood far too much about the filthy dark corners of his past. He craved power, craved the arrogance of stepping into high society, and the ultimate passport was the young, powerful female tycoon of a giant financial conglomerate towering over the metropolis.
The divorce unfolded with cold swiftness. No arguments, no tears, no complaints.
When he placed the divorce papers on the old wooden desk with the condescending attitude of a superior, his wife simply raised her head quietly, fixing him with a gaze as flat as an untroubled pond. She took a pen and signed the final line decisively, refusing to cling to a single penny of distributed assets except for the ownership of a small corner of an old workshop.
— “I hope you won’t regret the ticket you’re using to enter high society,” – her voice was light, resembling a whisper of wind passing by an ear.
He scoffed, his chin held high in contempt. To a man blinded by the seat of vice-chairman of the board of directors and the massive fortune about to fall into his hands following the wedding with the female tycoon, his ex-wife’s warning sounded no different from summer cicadas—both annoying and utterly laughable. He packed his flashy belongings and walked out of the small house without ever looking back once.
II. False Fireworks on a Sandcastle
On the eve of the wedding of the century, the city’s most magnificent convention center glowed with luxurious artificial light. Millions of imported European roses were woven into gigantic walls, covering every flaw in the space. Dozens of cameras from major media outlets stood ready from early morning to record every moment of the “fairy tale wedding” between the talented director and the powerful female tycoon.
The man stood before a large mirror in the VIP dressing room, adjusting the bow tie of his black velvet tuxedo. His face radiated ultimate satisfaction. In the reflecting mirror, the image of a once-tattered man had transformed into an elegant, powerful, and untouchable upper-class gentleman. Tomorrow, after the wedding ring was exchanged, he would officially become the actual operating head of that colossal conglomerate. The entire financial market would have to bow in respect before the empire he was reaching.
— “Is everything ready?” – a cold, luxurious voice echoed from behind.
The female tycoon stepped forward, donning a million-dollar hand-embroidered diamond wedding gown, her sharp features carrying the haughty arrogance of someone born standing atop the world. She looked at him with an appraising gaze, much like a master admiring an expensive trinket just acquired for a collection.
— “Everything is absolute perfection,” – he turned back, flashing a charming and confident smile, and leaned down to lightly kiss the ivory hand of his bride-to-be. – “Tomorrow, this entire city will be astounded by our alliance.”
Not a shred of doubt. Not a single defense. He immersed himself completely in the illusion that he was the shrewdest predator, the one who used cleverness and this very body to step step by step to the peak of fame, seizing achievements from the hands of the wealthy. Little did he know that the game he thought he controlled was actually a trap laid years in advance, and he was merely a little mouse scurrying toward poisoned bait.
III. The Mysterious Gift Box Amidst the Million-Dollar Banquet Hall
The wedding unfolded exactly as high society rumored: lavish, glittering, and filled with congratulatory applause. Hundreds of guests comprising politicians, billionaires, and the most powerful figures gathered beneath the sparkling crystal dome.
The man walked beside his newly wed bride, receiving praises and admiring glances from every direction. He felt every fiber of his body swelling with supreme pride. The pinnacle. He had finally touched the true pinnacle of life.
Right as the ceremony approached the ring-exchange ritual, the banquet hall suddenly echoed with the footsteps of a reception staff member in a neat uniform, pushing a small cart carrying a meticulously crafted deep crimson velvet gift box, roughly the size of a document chest.
— “Respected tycoon, respected groom,” – the staff member spoke respectfully yet clearly amid the silent expanse of the banquet hall. – “This is a special gift sent directly from an anonymous guest, requested to be presented right before the most sacred moment of the ceremony.”
The female tycoon furrowed her brow slightly, casting a sharp, questioning gaze toward the groom.
The man smiled and waved dismissively, feigning generosity before the distinguished guests:
— “Must be another congratulatory gift from some major industry partner. Just open it, let our guests admire it together.”
The staff member nodded, carefully unwrapping the golden ribbon and popping open the lid of the red velvet box.
Inside the box lay no fresh flowers, no precious jewelry, or luxury items typically seen in high-society weddings. At the center of the box was a thick dossier stamped with the bright red seal of the business registration agency, resting atop a small handwritten note in slender, sharp handwriting chillingly familiar.
The man stepped forward curiously, picking up the note and reading its contents aloud under the continuous flashes of media cameras:
— “Thank you for helping me manage the company all these years.”
IV. The Card Flip on the Scaffold
The entire banquet hall instantly plunged into a dead silence. Hundreds of pairs of eyes locked onto the groom with bewildered expressions. What did that note mean? What company? Who sent it?
The man froze, the smile on his lips stiffening as if poured in concrete. A chilling sense of unease suddenly raced down his spine. He hurriedly flipped open the dossier beneath the note, skimming the sharp italicized words on the first page.
That was no ordinary document. It was an audit report detailing all assets, shares, and legal ownership of the colossal financial conglomerate where he stood as a groom.
And the name listed under “Absolute Owner – Majority Shareholder holding 92% controlling stake” was neither the female tycoon standing beside him nor any other fierce financial titan in the market… but rather his devoted ex-wife whom he had discarded less than a month ago.
— “What… what the hell is this?!” – the man stepped back a pace, his face drained of color, his voice stuttering and choking in his throat. – “What kind of joke is this? Who dares play a trick on me?”
Just as panic engulfed the entire space, a sound echoed from the high-end surround sound system of the banquet hall. It was a short recording, crystal clear in every single word:
— “…He thought he had fooled everyone, from his devoted wife to the financial tycoon family behind. He didn’t know that the vice-chairman seat he dreamed of was actually a decoy position designed for him to bear sole legal responsibility for the financial violations the conglomerate was about to execute…”
That voice… belonged precisely to the calm, cold voice of his ex-wife.
The man whipped his head around, his eyes wide open, staring toward the grand doors of the banquet hall slowly opening beneath blinding white light.
V. The True Female Master of the Empire
From the brilliant radiance of the main aisle, a slender figure stepped forward in a sharply tailored white suit. Her delicate face wore minimal makeup yet radiated an overwhelming authority across the vast room. None other than the devoted ex-wife he had once despised, cast aside, and discarded like a tattered rag.
Her appearance left all the guests stunned. Whispers began to erupt like a disturbed beehive.
Yet what terrified the man beyond imagination was not the appearance of his ex-wife, but the next action of the female tycoon – the newlywed bride standing beside him.
The haughty female tycoon instantly shed the sharpness from her face, flashing a bright, gentle smile as she stepped down from the stage, heading straight toward the ex-wife. She took the slender hands of the newly arrived woman, speaking in a sweet voice that echoed throughout the banquet hall before hundreds of camera lenses:
— “Dear sister, you’ve finally arrived. Have matters at the court and audit agency been completely settled?”
The ex-wife smiled gently, nodding in response:
— “Everything is settled, little sister. Thank you for acting out this play perfectly all this time to lure the prey into the trap.”
Hearing this, the man felt as though heaven and earth were collapsing beneath his feet. He staggered and collapsed onto the floor of the banquet hall, clutching his head with both hands, his bulging eyes staring at the two women before him with absolute horror surpassing human imagination.
Little sister? The powerful female tycoon, sole heir to this massive financial conglomerate… turned out to be the biological younger sister of the devoted ex-wife he had so ruthlessly spurned?
VI. The Perfect Trap Laid Ten Years Ago
Every piece of the cruel puzzle suddenly fell into place in the man’s mind at dizzying speed.
He recalled the first day he stepped into this city ten years ago, penniless, poor, and full of ambition. He happened to meet that wife, believing she was a lucky gift bestowed by destiny. He step by step utilized her intellect to rise, self-righteously thinking he was the manipulator of life’s game.
Little did he know that from the very first moment he approached her, he had entered the radar of a hidden financial dynasty, where that wife was the head heir who had disguised herself as a pauper to test human nature. When he began exposing his betrayal, ingratitude, and bottomless greed, the two sisters decided not to expose him immediately; instead, they orchestrated the grandest drama in corporate history.
They let him roam free, letting him sign illusory acquisition contracts with his own hands, letting him discard his loyal wife to chase after false glory, and finally, lifting him to the pinnacle of fame only to pull the ladder out from under his feet on the most momentous day of his life.
From the banquet hall corridor, the wailing sirens of economic police echoed crisply.
Dignified law enforcement officers stepped into the banquet hall, walking straight onto the stage. A pair of cold steel handcuffs swiftly locked around the hands that had once tremblingly held a pen to sign the divorce papers.
— “You… are arrested on charges of large-scale asset fraud, violation of economic management regulations, and document forgery,” – the police officer’s voice rang out cold and decisive.
Not a single one of the hundreds of distinguished guests dared to step up to defend him. They looked at him with contempt and disgust, treating him like a filthy insect exposed under stage lights.
VII. The Ashes of the Greedy
The man was dragged away in handcuffs amidst hundreds of flashing camera lenses. His face was twisted, sweat mixing with tears, his mouth mumbling meaningless words in sheer panic. The illusion of a wealthy empire, a powerful chairman seat, and a lavish life suddenly shattered into millions of razor-sharp crystal shards piercing straight into his soul.
On the crystal-lit stage, the ex-wife stood quietly, watching the silhouette of the betrayed traitor being led away out the grand doors. She straightened her collar and turned to smile at her sister standing beside her.
The transactional contract of life finally concluded with a fitting sentence for the traitor.
Outside, the lights of the bustling city still shone brightly through the transparent glass curtain walls of the high-rise, casting down upon the hurried crowd passing below. Yet in that poor street corner, or deep within the memories of those who valued loyalty and devotion, justice never lost its way, and human greed ultimately traded for only two words: Ashes.
