THE DISABLED HEIRESS, MY EX-HUSBAND WOULD PAY DEARLY.

Hearing what Oliver just said, James's eyes widened in disbelief. He shook his head slowly, almost like a puppet whose strings were being cut. "How… how do you know all that?" he muttered under his breath, voice barely audible.

Oliver smirked. "You think you were the only one watching people, James? You think you're the only one who knows how to dig for secrets? I was five steps ahead of you the entire time."

Immediately James's jaw clenched as a lump began to form in his throat. Very few people even knew he had a gambling problem, much less the location of the casino, and definitely not the existence of the offshore account. And now, all his sins were being laid out like dirty laundry under stadium lights.

Oliver took another step closer and raised his voice a bit, "All of it seized. Frozen. Confiscated. The documents are already with the bank, and they've agreed that all of your remaining liquid funds whatever scraps are still left in your accounts will be transferred to me. Why? Because you're repaying your debt."

James's lips began to tremble. "Debt?"

"Yes, debt," Oliver snapped. "Did you forget the money you owe me? Or did you think forgiveness meant forgetting numbers? Even after we liquidated all your known properties, transferred your cars, and cleared your accounts, after everything..."

He paused dramatically, then pulled out the final page from the envelope and waved it in James's face.

"You still owe me one hundred and fifty million."

The words hit like a sledgehammer.

"So," Oliver concluded coldly, "Now, tell me. How do you plan to pay the remaining one hundred and fifty million?"

At that moment, James stood completely still. His knees buckled slightly, and his eyes stared blankly at the floor as Oliver's words echoed in his ears like a death sentence.

He whispered, barely able to speak, "You mean… I've lost everything?" His lips trembled as he looked up at Oliver, his voice growing hoarse. "My house… my account… even the casino abroad?" His voice cracked. "Everything… and I still owe you?"

Oliver didn't blink. He remained standing tall, calm, and cold, arms folded. "One hundred and fifty million," he said, sharp and clear. "That's what you still owe me. Everything I've seized didn't even scratch the surface.

"I'm finished…" he muttered, then looked up, his face pale and full of despair. "I'm just as good as dead…, I'm not lying to you. I don't have anything left. I don't even know where I'll sleep tonight. I have no business, no backup, nothing. How… how do you expect me to come up with 150 million in just one month?"

But Oliver's gaze didn't soften.

"I don't care how you do it," he replied coldly. "Sell your organs. Sell your soul. Beg on the street if you must. But I want my money. One month. No delays."

James's mouth hung open as his heart pounded heavily against his chest. He couldn't breathe. He felt like he was drowning in his own misery.

Then Oliver leaned closer, voice dropping low, his eyes deadly calm. "And let me make something crystal clear. If I see you anywhere near Cora again anywhere within reach of her I swear on everything I stand for… that will be the last breath you ever draw."

James flinched. His lips quivered as tears rolled down his cheeks.

However Oliver didn't wait for a reply. He turned around and began walking away, leaving James crumpled on the floor, broken, speechless, and empty.

At that moment, as Oliver was just about to exit the place, he suddenly halted. His body stiffened. With a slow, almost theatrical turn, he faced James again. His expression had shifted calm yet dangerous, like a storm held back by sheer will. His voice came out low, but sharp enough to slice through the heavy silence.

"Oh, and James…" he said, locking eyes with him coldly, "this warning includes those ladies."

James froze in place, his heart skipping as he swallowed hard.

Oliver's voice dropped even lower, more threatening, more precise. "I don't care if you try to see them, speak to them, or even think about involving them in your little plans again. If I find out you met them in secret... if I so much as hear that you reached out to one of them... then mark my words," he stepped forward with one hand in his pocket, the other pointed lazily but with deadly intent "that will be your last day on earth. No negotiation. No mercy."

James didn't respond. He couldn't. His lips trembled slightly, but no sound came out. Oliver's presence had become suffocating. The once-playful gambler now looked like a man stripped of every card, every chip, and every ounce of control he ever thought he had.

With that, Oliver turned around once more and walked away. His tailored coat flowed behind him, a symbol of power and finality. The door closed behind him with a quiet but powerful thud that sounded far more like a prison gate shutting than a business door closing.

**

Cora sat behind her wide desk. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind her cast long rays of sunlight into the room, but her mind wasn't on the skyline view. Her thoughts were elsewhere still tangled in the aftermath of James' mess, still trying to steady her emotions after everything that had unfolded.

Suddenly, her phone began to ring. A soft vibration at first, then the screen lit up. She glanced at it absentmindedly expecting another business call or a reminder from her calendar.

But when her eyes landed on the caller ID, she sat up straighter. It was Melissa.

Her secretary didn't usually call unless it was urgent.

Without wasting another second, she picked it up and answered. "Malisa?"

"Ma'am," Malisa's voice came through the line, brisk and direct, "you remember the shareholder you asked me to look into? The one you told me to quietly dig up everything about?"

Cora narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes. What about him?"

"Well…" Malisa took a breath, "the report just arrived."