The Perfect Revenge Plan Against My Cheating Wife and Her Young Lover in a Million-Dollar Penthouse in Milan.

Part 2: The Ghost Protocol

The next morning, the trap snapped shut with clinical precision. I sat in my corner office on the top floor of our corporate headquarters, sipping black coffee as my legal team laid out the paperwork. Marcus, my senior attorney who had been with me for a decade, slid a thick folder across the mahogany desk.

“Everything is locked down, Julian,” Marcus said, his voice flat and professional. “The forensic accountants have already flagged the attempted transfers to the Swiss account. Because you caught it during the authorization phase, the funds are held in a corporate escrow. She can’t touch a single euro. Furthermore, the morality clause lawsuit against Julian Russo—the supermodel—has been officially filed. His agency was notified thirty minutes ago.”

I nodded, adjusting my cuffs. “And her personal lines of credit?”

“Frozen under the audit pretext,” Marcus replied with a grim smile. “As of 9:00 AM, her black cards are nothing but useless pieces of plastic.”

“Excellent. Let the show begin.”

I didn’t have to wait long. Around noon, my private phone vibrated on the desk. Celine’s name flashed across the screen. I let it ring three times before picking up, keeping my voice completely neutral, devoid of any anger.

“Yes, Celine?”

“Julian! Thank God you answered!” Her voice was shrill, a sharp contrast to the sultry, composed tone she used when plotting in our dressing room. “Something terrible is happening. I’m at the boutique in Via Montenapoleone trying to purchase a vintage watch for an upcoming brand gala, and my Amex Black was declined! The manager looked at me like I was a criminal! Then I checked the corporate account, and I’m completely locked out! What is going on? Call the bank right now and fix this!”

I took a slow sip of my coffee, savoring the bitter taste. “The accounts are under a routine security audit, Celine. There were some highly suspicious, unauthorized financial movements detected yesterday afternoon. The cybersecurity and forensic accounting divisions had to implement a standard freeze to protect our corporate assets.”

There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath on the other end. I could practically hear her mind racing, trying to figure out if she had been caught. “Suspicious movements? That’s ridiculous! It must be a system glitch. Tell them to lift it immediately, Julian. It’s incredibly embarrassing for me. I am the face of this brand!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said smoothly. “The protocol is automated. Until the audit is fully complete and the liabilities are assessed, all executive access is suspended. Including yours.”

“Are you insane?!” she hissed, her mask of sweetness slipping away, revealing the entitled, manipulative woman underneath. “You’re doing this on purpose! Are you punishing me for something? What did I do? I work myself to the bone for this company, and you treat me like a thief? If you don’t unlock those accounts by this afternoon, I am staying at a hotel. I won’t sleep in a house where my husband doesn’t trust me!”

“If that is what you feel you need to do, Celine, I won’t stop you,” I replied calmly. “Take all the time you need.”

“Julian! Don’t you dare use that cold, business tone with me! You love me, remember? You promised to take care of me!” She shifted instantly into victim mode, her voice cracking with forced, theatrical tears. “How can you be so cruel? I’m having a panic attack right now in the middle of the street because of you!”

“I have a meeting to attend, Celine. We will discuss this when I return to the penthouse tonight. Goodbye.”

I hung up before she could respond. A profound sense of detachment washed over me. The woman I had spent three years elevating, the woman I thought loved me, was nothing but a parasite trying to bleeding me dry. But she wasn’t going to go down quietly.

When I arrived back at the penthouse at 7:00 PM, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Celine was sitting on the white leather sofa, her eyes red and puffy, surrounded by crumpled tissues. But she wasn’t alone. Sitting right next to her, holding her hand and glaring at me like I was a monster, was her mother, Eleanor.

I leaned against the doorframe, amused by the scene. Celine thought she could play the victim, but she had no idea that I had already rewritten the rules of her little game.