Chapter 80: Yes, This Is the Link of Fate

Just past eleven at night, Gap returned home exhausted from the company. Lately, he had been dealing with traces of transactions between his company and EverBright Group.

Some irregularities weren’t in the ledgers but involved money transfers; others appeared in the books but with incorrect figures. This wasn’t just one bad debt—it was many.

After this grueling work, he began to grasp a vague understanding of the situation.

For a company about the size of Ristuan Group, or even larger, to suddenly sink into a quagmire wasn’t just tax evasion; it likely involved foreign capital.

Gap wasn’t sure where this intuition came from. While handling his company’s accounts, he closely followed news of EverBright’s scandal. From his perspective, EverBright seemed fine.

“Maybe I’m overthinking…” he muttered, turning his car from the main road into his residential community.

His car was registered with the community. As he approached the gate, the security guard immediately raised the barrier. Gap forced a smile and said thanks.

Often, politeness isn’t a sign of good upbringing but a way to maintain a positive image—a kind of adult hypocrisy, or necessary social skill.

For Gap and many like him, a simple thank you improved their social façade.

Just as he was about to drive in, the guard hesitated, wearing an odd expression.

Detail-oriented by nature, Gap’s brow furrowed slightly. He lifted his foot off the gas pedal. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

The guard hadn’t intended to interfere, but Gap’s polite tone made him feel respected. He found it hard to keep silent but unsure if it was appropriate.

The guard’s conflicted expression made Gap more curious. “If it’s important, please tell me,” he said seriously.

The guard sighed. “I probably shouldn’t say this, Mr. Gap, but… Mrs. Vera came back tonight in a young man’s car. That man is very handsome…”

He stopped, having said what was forbidden.

In any mid- to high-end community, service companies forbid employees from sharing or discussing residents’ private matters.

Every year there were lawsuits over privacy; all staff were professionally trained. But Gap disguised himself well, and tonight’s guard, still bearing some innocence, had slipped.

Gap’s expression darkened instantly. He forced a smile and tossed a pack of cigarettes out the window. “Thanks. I asked someone to drive her back.”

The guard relaxed. “I see. I almost thought…” He trailed off, unaware of Gap’s almost blending-into-darkness scowl.

After parking, Gap opened the door with a dark face. He never thought his marriage had problems.

He was young, handsome, with a coveted job, solid assets, and was about to become a junior partner at Ristuan Group.

Though only a junior partner, it was already above most. He was climbing the ladder. No woman would leave him, just like the cheap girls at the company.

But now he was angry—a woman he saw as an important ornament, a pet adorning his social image, was harboring thoughts that displeased him.

No macho man could tolerate this.

He pushed open the guest bedroom door. They were still in a cold war, sleeping apart.

Vera was still awake, the bedside lamp on, reading a management book Gap had bought.

Women after drinking became more emotional and reckless. Reading tips while tipsy—did it help?

Maybe not, but they convinced themselves their effort mattered.

Gap locked eyes with her as the door opened. After a moment, he asked, “You drank tonight?”

Vera put down the book. “Is that any of your business?”

Gap was annoyed. He worked hard outside while she mingled with other men. He suppressed his emotions but still slipped.

His voice rough, wounded, “You betrayed me!”

Vera frowned. “I was just talking business with a friend, and there are no marks on my butt!”

Her words snapped Gap back. That day had been his greatest humiliation—he’d kicked out the cheap girl who left lip marks on him with a convenient excuse.

Small office affairs were one thing, but bringing them home—whether your own or others’—was forbidden.

Vera was still under the influence; arguing would only attract nosy neighbors. Tomorrow the whole community would know. He wisely chose silence.

He pointed at her. “Remember, you’re married.”

Vera retorted, unyielding, “Do you think you remember that?”

Gap felt like his head would explode. Where was his gentle, obedient wife?

He turned and slammed the door, undressed, and went to shower, needing to cool off.

In the bathroom, he saw Vera’s clothes. After some careful deduction, he was somewhat relieved—she hadn’t betrayed him.

But barely a minute of ease passed before irritation returned. She had learned to talk back. Years of spoiling had made her think it was indulgence. After this period, he’d have a serious talk.

The next morning, Gap left early, with many ledgers waiting. No time to waste at home.

Vera woke just after nine, her sleep aided by the wine. After showering, she went to the study to look for management books.

Lynch trusted her so much; she wanted to repay that trust with effort.

As she picked some books, she noticed several ledgers on Gap’s desk. Any accountant disliked these but was very sensitive to them—this was their work.

Hesitant, she looked closer. It was a genuine copy, with small clear print at the bottom: Ristuan Company (Group) Official Ledger…

Meanwhile, the guard who finished the morning shift was heading to his dorm when the manager appeared, face stern, tearing off his community ID badge.

“You’re fired…”