Part 3She Stole My Bankrupt Fiances

The day I met Oliver Wright, Sophia was trending on local news blogs. It wasn't a national scandal, but several viral clips had surfaced of her being cornered by angry creditors outside the university library. She stood there in her delicate white dress, silent tears streaming down her face. Some comments pitied her, but most mocked her online.

The top-voted comment read: 'Imagine ruining your credit and future for a bankrupt boyfriend. Are rich girls really this naive?'

I swiped the video away and pushed open the door to the private room at the quiet cafe downtown. Oliver was already waiting. He wore a crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a thick stack of legal briefs resting on the table in front of him.

He skipped the pleasantries as I sat down. "Your mother’s estate is far more complicated than you think, Quanna."

"If it were simple, I wouldn't need the city’s sharpest attorney," I replied.

He studied me for a brief second before opening a file. "The twenty-one percent stake your father currently holds in Harrington Group originally belonged to your mother’s pre-marital startup. Furthermore, a substantial portion of the trust funds under your stepmother's name can be traced back to your mother’s intellectual property royalties. The issue is time. The paper trail has some critical gaps."

I slid the bank records I had obtained across the table. "Will this transfer to the Barrett family bridge that gap?"

Oliver flipped to the final page, his eyes narrowing as he read. "Margaret’s Green-Tech Materials Phase 1 Licensing Fee." He tapped his finger against the paper. "You handed the Barrett contract to Sophia on purpose, didn't you?"

I didn't deny it. "Before the Barretts went under, they held a sub-licensing agreement for my mother's early patents. If Daniel wanted even a ghost of a chance at a comeback, he had to revive that project. And the moment he did, the original licensing contract would have to be brought into the light."

Oliver looked up, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. "You weren't worried she might actually help him succeed?"

I smiled. "She wanted a future billionaire. But she forgot to check how deep the financial grave is before jumping in."

Oliver’s expression remained professional, but his gaze softened. He pulled another document from his briefcase. "Daniel registered a new corporate entity this morning. The named President and Registered Agent is Sophia Harrington."

I took the document. There it was in black and white: Sophia Harrington. I couldn't help but laugh. "She certainly moves fast."

"Your sister likely views this as a grand gesture of trust," Oliver said quietly.

"Isn't it?"

"It's a liability shield," his voice was cool, analytical. "If the company goes under or gets sued, the registered agent is the first one they serve."

I set the paperwork down. "Then let's make sure it does."

Oliver’s fingers paused over the file.

"Within strictly legal boundaries, of course," I added.

He stared at me for a long moment, as if seeing me clearly for the very first time. "You aren't nearly as fragile as the rumors suggest, Ms. Harrington."

I took a sip of my coffee. "I used to be. But the price was too high."

Oliver didn't press further. He simply slid a second folder toward me. "Your mother’s patents weren't just licensed to the Barretts. Adrian Keller’s current research lab is also utilizing a core framework that looks suspiciously identical to her designs."

I stared at the name. Adrian Keller. My second potential suitor.

In my previous life, he had demanded my absolute devotion. He made me quit my internships, cut off my friends, and withdraw from competitions just to manage his lab’s administration. He used to tell me, "If you want to stand beside me, Quanna, you need to stop wasting your time on trivial things." But when his breakthrough finally came, he locked me out of the gala dinner. His excuse was that I didn't hold an official title in the company. Sophia had walked right past me, her hand wrapped around his arm, whispering, "Quanna, don't be mad at Adrian. He just respects corporate protocol."

I tapped my fingers against the warm ceramic of my cup. "How long until we can move on the Barrett family?"

"Very soon," Oliver replied. "Daniel is using the old technical patents to secure his new round of funding. The moment those filings go public with your mother’s original licensing codes, we have the legal standing to demand discovery of the original agreements."

Right on cue, my phone began to vibrate. It was Sophia. I pressed answer, and her hysterical crying filled the line. "Quanna... please, can you come to the Barrett office? Daniel says there's a problem with the financing documents. These investors... they keep saying I'm the registered agent, and they're holding me personally responsible!"

I switched the call to speakerphone. Oliver leaned back in his chair, quietly listening.

"I thought you said you wouldn't blame me, no matter what happened to him," I said calmly.

Sophia choked on her breath. "But I didn't know being the President of the company meant all of this! Quanna, you were the one originally engaged to him. Can you please talk to him? Please?"

I let out a soft laugh. "Sophia, this is the very first test of being a billionaire's partner. Are you giving up already?"

The line went completely dead. I hung up. Oliver slid a sleek business card across the table. "I'll accompany you tonight."

I looked at the card. "I didn't think a partner at your firm had this much free time, Mr. Wright."

His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering. "Our first piece of hard evidence should surface tonight. I wouldn't miss it."

At seven that evening, Oliver and I walked into the Barrett corporate office. Sophia was huddled in a chair in the main conference room, her eyes swollen. Daniel stood by the window, his expression dark and tense. On the glass table lay the venture capital prospectus. On the very top page, a specific patent serial number was highlighted in yellow: WT-NY-07. My mother's project code.

As soon as my fingers touched the paper, the door swung open. Daniel glared at me from across the room. "Who gave you permission to touch my files?"

Oliver stepped forward slightly, shielding me with his frame. "Mr. Barrett, from this moment on, every word in these files is considered active evidence in my client’s case."