The CEO Hid His Mistress Inside A Million Dollar Painting Chapter 12

The CEO Hid His Mistress Inside A Million Dollar Painting Chapter 12

Within minutes, the livestream viewership broke past one million.

The platform finally caught on-and just like that, with a “pop,” the screen went black.

But I wasn’t worried at all.

Because in those ten or fifteen minutes alone, countless people had already taken screenshots, recorded the

screen, and shared them everywhere.

Everyone who was supposed to see it had seen it.

And quite a few people who weren’t supposed to know now knew too.

My goal was accomplished.

I wanted everyone to know just how rotten Hyatt really was.

That he wasn’t the devoted, loving CEO he pretended to be. Not the talented young businessman the media

made him out to be.

He was just a man who had built his career on his wife’s family, cheated like an addict, and loved to put on

an act-a total piece of trash.

I put away my phone and looked at the two people trapped inside the painting.

“Nice performance. As for whether you get out…” I paused deliberately. “I’ll think about it.”

Right then, a mechanical voice suddenly sounded inside my head.

[Detected that the original host’s career luck has hit zero. System unbinding in progress.]

[Detected that the current target’s compatibility score has reached the threshold. Do you wish to take over

system permissions?]

I stood there and raised an eyebrow.

“So you’re the system?”

[Yes.]

“I don’t want any other abilities. I just want one thing: the power to bring people out of the painting.”

[Skill: Exit Painting successfully exchanged. May I ask who you would like to release?]

I looked at the two people inside the painting-both silent now, too humiliated to speak-and the corner of

my mouth curled into a cruel smile.

“Hyatt, what if only one of you can come out? You or Vicky?”

Both of them froze at the same time.

In the next second, Vicky threw herself at Hyatt’s feet and grabbed his legs. “Mr. Thorne! Let me out! I don’t

want to die!”

Hyatt looked down at her. There wasn’t a trace of his former affection in his eyes. Nothing but disgust.

He drew back his leg and kicked her hard in the stomach, sending her sprawling. “Get off me, you whore! If it weren’t for you, would I be in this mess? Die in here for all I care!”

He turned back to me outside the painting and nodded frantically. “Me! Let me out! Perla, let me out! I’ll be your dog, I’ll serve you for the rest of my life!”

I nodded. “Fine.”

I snapped my fingers.

A flash of white light.

Naked and utterly pathetic, Hyatt collapsed onto the floor of the living room.

Inside the painting, Vicky let out a desperate, blood-curdling scream.

Hyatt lay on the ground. Ignoring the searing pain in his body, he crawled toward me and tried to wrap his arms around my legs. “Perla, thank you, thank you for saving me… I know I was wrong. Let’s remarry, okay? I

can’t live without you…”

I recoiled in disgust and kicked him hard in the shoulder, sending him tumbling backward. “Hyatt, I didn’t save you because I forgive you. I saved you because letting you die inside that painting would be letting you off

too easily.”

“You’re penniless now. Drowning in debt. Your reputation is ruined. You’re suspected of economic crimes. And the police are already on their way.”

“I want you to live. Live in this real-life hell. Be despised by everyone for the rest of your days. Scuttle around like a rat in a sewer, never able to crawl your way back up.”

Sirens wailed urgently outside.

Hyatt’s face turned ashen white, drained of all color. He collapsed to the floor, finally realizing that he was completely finished.

Several officers burst through the door, threw a jacket over him, and cuffed him.

As he was led out, he turned his head and looked back at me. His eyes were filled with nothing but regret and

despair.

But it was far too late.

After Hyatt was taken away, Vicky inside the painting finally broke down.

She had watched with her own eyes as Hyatt, desperate to save himself, abandoned her without a second

thought-and even tried to trample her on his way out.

She collapsed by the window, sobbing so hard her voice cracked. “I was wrong! I was so wrong! Hyatt is a

bastard! He lied to me, he used me, and now he’s left me here to die!”

“Let me out! I’ll testify against him! I’ll make sure he suffers too!”

Watching Vicky’s face-twisted with hatred-I found it strangely interesting.

“Fine. I’ll let you out. Let’s see how you settle this score.”

I agreed to the system’s teleportation.

Vicky tumbled out of the painting and scrambled out of my house on all fours, desperate to escape.

What happened after that, I learned from the news and from my lawyer.

Vicky went to the police and reported Hyatt.

She claimed that Hyatt had used his position to rape her and coerce her into a sexual relationship. She even

provided some audio recordings as evidence.

Hyatt was already buried under the investigation into his financial crimes.

Now he had another case on his hands. He was going out of his mind in detention.

To make it all go away, he had no choice but to pay her off.

He didn’t have enough money, so he sold his house.

When that wasn’t enough, he sold his parents’ house back in his hometown.

The moment Vicky got her hands on the money, she thought she had finally won.

But not long after, the police came knocking on her door again.

This time, the evidence came from me.

The hotel surveillance footage was very clear. On the day of the celebration banquet, she had gone to the

back kitchen early, ground nut crumbs into a fine powder, and mixed it into my tea.

As she did it, she was even caught on tape saying, “Let’s see if she drops dead from drinking this…”

With surveillance footage, audio evidence, and the hospital diagnosis, the case was built quickly.

In the end, Vicky was convicted of assault and sentenced to prison.

She barely had time to enjoy the money before she was behind bars.

As for Hyatt-economic crimes, tax evasion, contract fraud-the charges piled up one after another. By the

time they took him in, he was so broken he couldn’t even hold his head up.