Reborn To Crush My Ruthless Husband

Estela's lips curled into a sneer. She leaned back in her chair, her bony fingers lacing together on top of the table. "Frances, making accusations requires evidence. Jagger's materials were strictly vetted by the foundation. How could there be fraud?" Frances didn't flinch. She gestured to Phoebe. Phoebe walked to the front of the room and connected a tablet to the projector. A moment later, a document appeared on the large screen at the end of the room. It was a private investigator's report. The first page showed Jagger's official biography. Born to a poor family. Raised in a disadvantaged neighborhood. A bright student who worked part-time jobs and relied on community scholarships to survive. The classic American dream story. Frances clicked the remote in her hand. The image changed. A photograph filled the screen. Jagger, wearing the crisp, navy blazer of Trinity Academy-an elite private school-standing beside a horse at a prestigious equestrian club. He was surrounded by other teenagers, all of them dripping with the kind of old money that didn't need scholarships. The color drained from Jagger's face. He looked down at his hands, his fingers twisting in his lap. Estela's eyes narrowed, but she recovered quickly. "A photograph proves nothing. Perhaps he attended a summer camp." Frances clicked again. A new document appeared. Financial records from Trinity Academy for the past five years. A single, six-figure anonymous donation, specifically earmarked to cover Jagger's full tuition and boarding expenses. The payment didn't come from a charity. It came from a shell company registered in the Cayman Islands. Frances let the information sink in before she spoke. "My investigator traced the shell company. It has hidden financial ties to an overseas subsidiary of the Burnett Group." The murmurs started again, louder this time. The trustees weren't just surprised; they were alarmed. This wasn't just polishing a resume. This was a systematic, organized deception. And the money was coming from their own backyard. On the screen, Baron's face was like thunder. "This is slander! Frances, you're investigating a child!" "I am conducting due diligence on a candidate who stands to inherit billions," Frances shot back, her voice ice. "You of all people should understand that, Baron." Jagger suddenly began to cry. It was a soft, choking sound that drew every eye in the room. He turned to Estela, his body trembling. "Great-grandmother," he sobbed, his voice cracking. "I... I just didn't want you to think I wasn't good enough for the Burnetts. That's why I hid the sponsorship... I was ashamed..." He looked utterly pitiful. A poor boy, overwhelmed by the wealth around him, making a foolish mistake out of pride. It was a masterful performance. Estela immediately wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "Good boy," she said, her voice softening. "I understand your hardship." She looked up at the board members, her expression hardening. "The matter is clear! The child made a mistake out of pride. But his excellence is undeniable!" She was trying to rewrite the narrative. She was trying to turn 'fraud' into 'omission'. Frances didn't let her. "Then who sponsored him anonymously?" Frances asked, her voice cutting through the sentiment. "Is the source of this money legal? Why was it routed through an offshore company? These questions are not answered in the foundation's due diligence report." The questions hung in the air, unanswered and damning. Estela had no response. The room fell into a tense standoff. Jagger's credibility was in ruins. Estela realized that pushing the adoption through today was impossible. The board was spooked. The questions were too dangerous. She had to retreat, but she would not surrender. She looked at Frances, her eyes flashing with a cold, calculating light. "Since there are concerns about both candidates," Estela announced, her voice ringing with false fairness, "I propose that both Jagger and Arvel Galvan be placed under the Burnett family's guardianship observation period." She held up a hand to silence the expected objections. "For one year. During this year, they will both receive the family's education and evaluation. After one year, the trust committee will vote to decide the final heir." It was a clever move. It framed her as reasonable and fair, while keeping Jagger inside the walls of the estate. It bought her time-time to destroy Arvel and scrub Jagger's record clean. The trustees nodded, relieved to have a compromise that didn't involve a bloody fight. Frances remained silent. She knew Estela's game. She knew the next year would be a war of attrition. But it was the best outcome she could force right now. She had gotten Arvel through the door. That was step one. The meeting adjourned. Estela stood, gesturing for Jagger to follow. He walked beside her, his tears miraculously dried, his face once again a mask of quiet obedience. As they passed Frances, Estela paused. She leaned in close, her voice barely a whisper. "The game has begun, child. I hope you don't regret it." Frances didn't blink. "I never regret anything, Estela." She watched them walk away, her heart pounding a steady, rhythmic beat in her chest. Round one was over. And the real fight was just beginning.