Hey everyone. I just need to get this off my chest. My name is Lauren Parker, though by the end of that year, I would go back to the name I had before I ever became Ethan’s wife. At the beginning of this, I was smiling beside my husband in Paris, pretending to be the happiest woman in the world. It was our third anniversary, and Ethan had gone all out—first-class tickets, a luxury hotel, and tickets to a Coldplay concert. Anyone looking at us would have seen a successful, polished couple still in love.

Then, out of the shadows of the arena, a woman I had never seen before stepped up and slapped me right across the face. The sting was so sharp I froze, completely humiliated in public on my anniversary. When I finally snapped out of it and went to react, Ethan grabbed my hand. He hurried to tell me to calm down, claiming she probably mistook me for someone else, and begged me not to make a scene because we were abroad. I swallowed my pride and sat through the rest of the show, but the way he held my hand felt like control, not comfort. I told myself he was just trying to protect the vibe of the trip. After all, he was a successful businessman, and I was used to forgiving him and just waiting around.

After the show ended, I ran to the restroom while he told me he’d wait in the lobby. When I came back, he was gone. A weird feeling crept into my chest, and eventually, I heard his voice coming from a dim backstage corridor. I followed the sound into the shadows and found him. He was standing with the exact same woman who had hit me. He wasn’t angry with her; she was leaning into him, and he was touching her cheek with a tenderness I once believed was mine alone. That’s when it clicked—it was Khloe Bennett, his “new assistant”. He had mentioned her before like she was just a name on a payroll document.

I walked right up to them, my eyes cold, and calmly asked, “So, this is the woman who mistook me for someone else?”. He pulled her behind him like a shield. He got defensive, telling me not to be hard on her, saying she didn’t know I was his wife and thought I was his mistress. I just let out a low laugh. I told him that if she was truly his assistant, she would know today is our anniversary, and she’d know exactly who his wife was.

Ethan’s face flushed with shame and anger. But he still stood in front of Khloe. He did not step toward me. That was when I understood he had already chosen his side.

This Paris trip had been planned for weeks. Ethan had told me he needed to survey the market and wanted to celebrate our anniversary at the same time. Right before the trip, he called to say his new assistant had forgotten to book my ticket.

Since he could not miss the survey, he left first. Later, he bought me a first-class ticket for two days after his own flight.

I had not been petty about it.

I figured arriving late would not ruin the concert, so I said nothing.

What he never told me was that on the original flight, Khloe had been his companion.

The air between us turned heavy.

Neither Ethan nor Khloe spoke.

The scene felt frozen, like a paused film.

I had no intention of letting Khloe hide behind soft eyes and trembling lips, so I exposed it directly.

“Ethan, it looks to me like your little assistant did not forget to book my ticket,” I said. “She did it on purpose.”

Khloe shook her head wildly, tears already rolling down her cheeks.

Ethan refused to admit anything. He accused me of blind jealousy. He said that ever since I found out he had changed assistants, I had disliked Khloe and kept picking on her.

Hearing that, Khloe clung to his sleeve.

“Ethan,” she said, using his first name instead of Mr. Parker.

Then she looked at me.

“Lauren, I’m sorry.”

Not Mrs. Parker.

Lauren.

In the past, Ethan would have corrected anyone who disrespected me that way.

This time, he pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Suddenly, Khloe began bowing again and again, shoulders trembling in supposed remorse.

“I’m sorry, Lauren. I’m sorry for misunderstanding you.”

Watching her performance, I could not help letting out a cold laugh.

“Miss Bennett,” I said, “don’t make this uglier than it already is.”

Ethan’s lashes twitched. He bent to help Khloe straighten up, then snapped at me.

“Enough, Lauren. Do you have to humiliate a fresh graduate just to feel powerful? Have you forgotten how your old boss used to treat you?”

Unbelievable.

My chest tightened.

For Khloe, he was willing to drag out my old wounds, the painful work memories I had shared with him during the most vulnerable nights of our marriage.

He took Khloe’s hand to leave.

But she stopped him.

She knelt carefully and wiped the dirt from his pant leg where I had stepped too close in anger. In that moment, Ethan seemed to soften toward her again.

His voice lowered.

“Lauren, apologize to Chloe. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

I stood there watching him.

Watching my marriage collapse in real time.

My silence seemed to anger him further.

He led Khloe away without looking back.

Just like that, he left me alone in a foreign country, not even staying long enough to hear the news I had planned to surprise him with on our anniversary.

I was pregnant.

Back at the hotel, I changed my ticket, showered, and went to bed.

Ethan never returned that night.

It was not until I was about to leave for the airport the next morning that he called.

I did not answer.

I shut my phone off.

When I landed back in California, there were more than a dozen messages from him, all scolding me for leaving without a word. Not a single explanation for where he had been all night.

I did not reply.

Once home, the first thing I did was draft divorce papers.

But I knew Ethan would not agree so easily.

Seven years together is not a small thing.

Before we had money, Ethan and I had survived days most people would never believe. We had once split a stale loaf of bread while sitting on a freezing sidewalk. For the sake of buying him a proper suit, I had gone hungry for a month, my stomach aching while my heart stayed full of hope.

I had worked part-time jobs until my feet swelled. I had escaped situations that left me shaking. I had given everything I had because I believed we were building something together.

Because of those days, Ethan had always been kind to young newcomers. It was as if he wanted to make up for what I had endured.

And our struggles had not been in vain.

When digital media first boomed, we caught the wave at exactly the right time. Within a year, we had built a fortune of nearly ten million dollars, going from nothing to owning a promising startup in San Alvara, California.

On the day the company was officially founded, Ethan knelt before me with a diamond ring in hand.

“Len,” he had said, eyes sincere, “I’ll love you forever.”

To prove it, even though I later chose to step into the background, he transferred more than half the company’s shares into my premarital assets as a permanent pledge.

I believed we had overcome everything for a happy ending.

When did I first notice something was wrong?

Maybe ten days before Paris.

One night, a longtime employee messaged me. She gently mentioned that Ethan had changed assistants two months earlier to a young woman named Khloe Bennett.

“She is a little too close with the boss,” the employee wrote. “Lauren, I just want you to be careful. I’ve seen your love story from the start.”

Her words lodged in my heart.

That night, I waited for Ethan to come home.

He had been drinking. He pulled off his tie, frowning when I asked why he had not told me about the assistant change.

“What is there to report about changing assistants?” he snapped. “If CEO Richard Hayes hadn’t forced her on me, I would never have taken her.”

Usually, Ethan spoke politely and gently.

His irritation made me uneasy.

I stepped closer to put away his clothes, keeping my tone level.

“Sounds like Richard Hayes’s relationship with this assistant isn’t exactly normal, then.”

As soon as I finished, Ethan yanked the towel from my hands, his eyes flaring.

“Lauren, when did you start thinking so badly of people?”

His gaze held pure disdain before he strode into the bathroom and slammed the door.

The sound hit me like a blade.

I stood there, my instincts telling me our marriage was cracking, and I did not know if I could save it.

Three days after returning from Paris, Ethan still had not come home.

Instead, he sent Khloe to collect clean clothes.

I packed his suitcase neatly and handed it to her at the door.

Khloe stood there with a smug smile, her eyes shining like she had won.

“Don’t worry, Lauren,” she said. “The boss is catching up on sleep at my place. I’ll take good care of him.”

She walked a few steps, then turned back.

“Oh, and the boss says he likes your salmon, so please send me the recipe.”

She stared at me, waiting to see if I would snap.

Before, I might have given her exactly what she wanted.

But now my heart was cold.

I smirked, pulled out my phone, and added her on messaging.

Seeing my composure, Khloe looked briefly unsettled. Her eyes scanned my face with suspicion.

Before leaving, she glanced back twice as if she could not believe I was that calm.

She did not know love had already been replaced by resolve.

I had forgotten only one thing.

To hand her the divorce papers for Ethan to sign.

So I delivered them to the company myself.

When I arrived, Emma Watson, Ethan’s longtime assistant, hurried out to meet me.

“Mrs. Parker, why are you here?” she asked. “The CEO isn’t in right now.”

“Where is Assistant Bennett?” I asked evenly.

Emma hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

I smiled, patting her shoulder to reassure her.

“It’s fine. I just came to drop something off for him.”

I walked straight into Ethan’s office.

The moment I opened the door, I froze.

The familiar space now felt foreign.

His desk was covered with plush toys and tiny potted plants I had never seen before. On the coffee table sat a pair of cartoon couple mugs that did not suit Ethan at all. Even the throw pillows on the guest sofa had been switched to a glaring pink.

No need to guess.

This was Khloe’s doing.

An obvious, childish claim of territory.

Emma stood behind me, embarrassed.

“Mrs. Parker, this…” she faltered.

I turned back and gave a small smile, though inside it felt like someone was squeezing my heart.

I sat in the chair before Ethan’s desk and keyed in the code to open the secure safe.

Thankfully, it still worked.

I placed the divorce papers inside, asked Emma to remind him to check, then left the company.

That evening, I wandered through the bright neon-lit streets of San Alvara, my heart heavy as if carrying the entire night sky.

Then I returned to the place that had once been our home.

Sitting on the sofa, I unlocked my phone and saw Khloe’s latest Instagram post.

A plate of overcooked salmon sat under a glittery filter, unappetizing in every way.

“First time cooking,” the caption read. “Almost burned the kitchen down, but the boss didn’t complain. He ate it all. Thank you.”

Ethan had liked it.

I quietly liked it, too.

My finger trembled against the screen.

Then I rested my hand on my belly, where a small life was growing, and switched my phone to silent mode.

At some point, I drifted off.

A loud bang from the front door jolted me awake.

I opened my eyes to see Ethan storming in, dripping wet, his dress shirt clinging to him, his polished shoes smeared with mud.

I glanced out the window.

The San Alvara sky was clear.

Not a drop of rain.

Suspicion rose in me, but before I could speak, he rushed over, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me as if unloading all his fury.

“Lauren, what are you trying to do?” he demanded. “I just wanted to try the salmon you used to make. You wouldn’t cook it, so Khloe gave it a shot. She didn’t know how. She burned her hand. And you pretended to be her friend just to monitor her Instagram. What is your game?”

I stood there stunned, my head ringing from the barrage.

He went on, voice trembling with anger.

“An innocent girl was so upset she made a dangerous scene by the river. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, it could have become a tragedy.”

Then I understood.

He was soaked because he had gone into the river for Khloe.

Her hero.

A wave of dizziness hit me. My stomach twisted, and I rushed toward the bathroom, clinging to the sink as my body gave out.

Ethan stood in the doorway and tossed me a towel, his eyes full of contempt.

“Don’t fake being sick to avoid this, Lauren. Honestly, you’re getting worse.”

I clutched the towel, wiping tears caused by dry heaves, and my eyes caught the faint scar on the back of my hand.

Ten years earlier, when I first learned to make roasted salmon for Ethan, hot oil had splattered onto my skin. Back then, he had been tender, applying ointment every day and whispering that he would never let me get hurt again.

Now the scar had faded.

So had his love.

I rinsed my mouth and spoke with exhaustion.

“Ethan, when did I ever stop cooking for you? Isn’t it you who stopped coming home?”

In ten years, we had fought before. We had struggled before. But never had he stood in front of me defending another woman and treating me like the enemy.

Ethan shook his head, voice icy.

“Lauren, if you had not changed, why would I avoid coming home? Now get dressed and come with me to the hospital. You owe Chloe an apology.”

I gripped the towel tighter.

“Ethan, you are my husband,” I said. “You eat another woman’s cooking, like her post online, and now because I liked it too, you want me to apologize to her? If I am supposed to apologize, tell me exactly what I should say.”

He stayed silent.

His gaze avoided mine.

That silence confirmed everything.

I looked at his troubled expression, then dry heaved again.

His cold voice cut through the air.

“Lauren, are you done with this act yet?”

Hearing the disgust in his tone, seeing the contempt on his face, something inside me finally snapped.

I stood, stepped toward him, and struck him across the face.

“Ethan, get out.”

The room fell silent.

His phone rang almost immediately, probably the hospital saying Khloe had regained consciousness.

He glanced at the screen, then turned and left without one word of apology.

I stood there watching the door close, my chest hollow.

Ten years ago, every fight ended with him bringing me flowers, holding me, apologizing. I would make salmon, and we would reconcile like the early days.

But today, he chose to defend Khloe, leaving me in both physical and emotional pain.

My hand went to my stomach.

To the child not yet formed, growing inside me.

I wondered whether I should bring this baby into a world where its father’s love already belonged somewhere else.

The apartment was suffocatingly quiet.

The only sound was the ticking clock on the wall.

The next morning, I drove to the hospital. My heart felt as heavy as the gray California sky above the freeway.

While waiting in line at registration, I opened my phone and saw Khloe’s latest Instagram post.

In the photo, she looked pale, clutching a vibrant bouquet of flowers, half lying in a hospital bed. A hand with long, bony fingers was feeding her porridge.

The wedding ring on that hand was mine.

Ethan’s ring gleamed under the hospital lights.

The caption read, “Nothing teaches you to cherish more than losing and then finding again. Thank you for giving me a reason to hold on.”

I stared at it.

My finger hovered over the like button, then stopped.

I had learned not to let my emotions lead me anymore.

A nurse called my number.

In the exam room, the doctor asked for a family member to sign the consent form for the procedure.

I picked up the pen and signed my own name, my handwriting shaky but firm.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with silver-rimmed glasses, frowned.

“Where is the baby’s father?” he asked.

I curled my lips into a faint smile.

“He’s gone.”

The doctor froze, his expression flickering with awkwardness.

“I’m sorry.”

I did not answer.

My unstable emotional state had led to a serious pregnancy scare, and the doctor advised a procedure to help protect the baby.

It was quick.

The anesthesia kept me from feeling much physically, but nothing could numb the ache inside my heart.

Later, I sat in the hospital hallway, sunlight streaming through the windows onto the glossy tiled floor. As the medication wore off, discomfort stirred in my lower abdomen. I bent over, wanting to go home early.

But as I reached the first floor, I ran into Ethan.

He stood there with his shirt rumpled, his cold gaze carrying a flicker of smugness.

“Changed your mind?” he asked. “Decided to come apologize to Chloe?”

Exhausted, I brushed his hand away.

“I didn’t come to apologize. Didn’t Emma tell you? I left a file in your office safe. Have you looked?”

He gave a short, dismissive laugh.

“Emma told me, but I didn’t bother. What important documents could you possibly have? You knew I wasn’t there and still asked where Chloe went. What were you trying to say, Lauren? You’ve really disappointed me.”

His words cut, but I was too drained to fight.

“Let go of me,” I said coldly.

He frowned, and suddenly his eyes sharpened with worry.

But not for me.

“Lauren, you went to Khloe’s hospital room, didn’t you? What did you say to her?”

Despair surged like a tide.

I met his eyes.

“What I left in your safe is a divorce agreement,” I said. “Ethan, let’s get divorced.”

He froze.

Within seconds, a cold smile spread across his face.

“Lauren, what game are you playing now? With your personality, if you really wanted a divorce, you would have made a scene already.”

True.

I had never been meek.

Ten years earlier, when a former boss crossed a line with me, I had recorded everything, fought my way out legally, and walked away with a settlement that helped Ethan and me start our business.

But he did not understand.

Business is not the same as love.

When someone truly wants to leave, they leave quietly.

“Ethan,” I said, “I’ve given you the papers. If you won’t sign, wait for my lawyer.”

I turned to walk away.

He panicked and grabbed the strap of my handbag.

The bag jerked hard. My things spilled across the hospital floor.

Mike, the company driver, quickly bent down to help me pick them up.

His hands trembled when he saw the test results.

“Mrs. Parker,” he whispered, “you’re pregnant.”

Ethan’s brow twitched violently.

He bent down, took the pregnancy report from Mike, and then saw the medical records beside it. The veins on his forehead stood out as his eyes darted between the documents.

“Lauren,” he said, voice rough. “Why? You’re carrying my child. Why wouldn’t you say a word?”

Yes, I had thought about walking away from everything, even the future inside me.

But he did not know I had just undergone a procedure to protect the baby, not abandon it.

I swallowed the pain.

“Because the baby’s father does not love it,” I said. “And he does not love its mother either.”

Ethan gripped my shoulders.

“Just because I hired an assistant, you’re jealous beyond reason. Lauren, you’re becoming outrageous.”

Suddenly, Khloe rushed over from the hallway and grabbed my hand.

“Lauren, if you don’t like me, I can resign,” she cried. “But the baby is innocent.”

She spoke as if she were the mother.

I pulled my hand away.

“Stay away from me.”

Khloe stepped back, eyes red.

Ethan looked at me with disgust.

“Lauren, you’ve become vicious.”

I laughed, dry and brittle.

“You’re right,” I said. “I am.”

But he had forgotten.

Ten years ago, he had been the one holding me and whispering, “Lauren, you’re the kindest girl I’ve ever met.”

Now everything had changed.

My love had burned out like a flame in a storm.

I picked up my bag and looked him straight in the eye.

“Everything that belongs to me, I’ll take back,” I said. “Either hand me the company, or give me five million dollars. I hope you settle it quickly.”

Khloe gasped behind him.

“Five million? Lauren, you’re insane.”

I was not insane.

But she was starting to lose control.

I turned and walked out of the hospital, the San Alvara sunlight warm on my face.

The child inside me was my reason to keep going.

And I would build a future with no Ethan, no Khloe, just myself and my own strength.

That night, around ten, the warm yellow glow of the house lights fell across the dining table where Ethan set down a steaming bowl of soup.

He had come home, something rare in recent weeks.

His suit was rumpled as he went into the kitchen, found a bowl, filled it, and placed it in front of me. His voice was unusually gentle.

“Chloe made this just for you, Lauren. Drink it. It will help you get your strength back.”

I looked at the steam curling upward.

Was he trying to comfort me, or show me he had just come from her place?

Seeing that I said nothing, he sat beside me and took my cold hands in his warm ones.

“Don’t be mad anymore, my wife,” he whispered. “I was wrong. Don’t divorce me.”

I looked him straight in the eye, pulled my hands back, and placed them on the wooden table.

“If you fire Khloe,” I said, “I’ll consider it.”

“As expected.”

He shot to his feet, expression flipping from gentle to furious.

“Lauren, can’t you just let this go? She was recommended by Richard Hayes. If I fire her, how do I explain it? Besides, her family is poor. They depend on her salary. How can I just fire her?”

I took a sip of warm water, my body tired but my mind strangely clear.

Then I smiled.

“Actually, I was joking.”

He seemed to rein in his anger. A flicker of tenderness appeared in his eyes.

But I went on.

“Even if you fired her, I would still divorce you.”

I gathered my laptop, picked up my glass, and went back to the bedroom.

From the living room, I heard Ethan pacing. His shoes scraped the wood floor, worry driving him back and forth.

In the past, I would have run out to hold him.

Now I put on headphones, played a soft song, and within seconds, drifted off.

Ethan knew me too well.

He knew once I had decided, nothing could change my mind.

The very next day, he returned to the company and began reviewing the accounts, preparing to divide the assets.

As I expected, he signed the divorce papers.

Our company was thriving. He could not just hand it over. So he borrowed from everywhere, scraped together the five million dollars I demanded, and handed me the deeds to three houses.

On the day we officially signed at the courthouse, Khloe came with him.

As we stepped out into the bright August sun, it lit up the brand-new Chanel outfit I wore.

Khloe looked me up and down with open disdain.

“You know that outfit could feed so many children,” she said sharply. “It could buy food for so many stray cats.”

I glanced around. The quiet street corner had no audience close enough to matter.

Then I looked at her and smiled.

“Then maybe you should stop shopping with someone else’s husband’s money.”

Her face flushed.

She turned to Ethan for rescue.

He knew me. He knew this was not a fight he could win.

He muttered a few words to soothe her, then pulled her into the car.

A day after signing the divorce papers, I sat in my new apartment scrolling through my phone when I saw Khloe’s latest Instagram post.

She was bragging about being promoted to head assistant for Ethan, posing in an expensive suit with a smug smile.

Almost immediately in her new position, Khloe convinced Ethan to fire a wave of veteran employees, the very people who had stood with us since the earliest days of the startup.

Among them was Emma, who had helped us build the company from nothing.

That afternoon, Emma came to see me, still stunned.

“Lauren, tell me the truth,” she said. “Has Ethan lost his mind?”

I listened, my eyes flicking to the glass of juice on the table.

Ethan had once valued talent. Those veteran employees were the backbone of the company, even if they were blunt, loud, or difficult during meetings. They saw the company as home. They had poured sweat and heart into making it grow.

In the past, whenever Ethan grew frustrated that they held too much influence, I always stepped in to calm him.

But now, with me gone, the foundation had collapsed.

Emma was not angry.

She was bewildered.

I smiled and took a sip of my latte.

“What will you do next, Emma?”

She thought for a moment.

“Maybe take a break, then figure it out.”

I looked straight into her eyes.

“Want to join my company?”

Emma’s eyes lit up.

“You’re starting a new company?”

I nodded.

With three houses and the cash from the divorce, I was already a millionaire. I reached out to brokers to sell the apartments. And with the lessons I had learned from building Ethan’s company, I knew I could succeed.

The veteran employees he had just thrown away were not a burden.

They were treasure.

“Boss Lauren,” Emma said, pretending to complain, “I still want a break.”

I laughed and gave her shoulder a light push.

“Call the ones who were just fired,” I said. “I need them.”

My rule was clear.

I would not poach employees still working for Ethan.

But the ones he discarded, I would take.

It felt like someone was delivering talent right to my door.

Two weeks later, my new company was taking shape.

While I was busy setting up the management system, I unexpectedly got a call from Ethan.

His voice sounded tired.

“Lauren, the company is having problems,” he said. “Can you come by for a bit?”

I agreed and set a time to meet at his office.

Before going upstairs, Emma ordered several dozen high-end pastries from a boutique bakery and had them delivered. They were not cheap, but everyone in the office enjoyed them.

On Emma’s subtle cue, they bowed slightly and thanked me.

“Thank you, Ms. Steel,” they said in unison, using my maiden name.

I smiled.

It felt like reclaiming myself.

Khloe stood nearby, her face sour, nearly trembling with anger. She leaned toward me, her tone sweet but laced with provocation.

“Lauren, the boss was so tired. He slept over at my place last night.”

Emma shot her a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

I was in a good mood, so I laughed.

“Oh,” I said. “Did your boss spend the whole night calling people to borrow money?”

Emma could not hold back a chuckle.

I glanced at Khloe’s latest Chanel outfit.

“What’s wrong?” I added. “Did you put all those donations for children and stray cats on your back?”

Khloe was speechless.

Her face turned red, and she turned to leave.

I sat down in Ethan’s CEO chair and called after her.

“Khloe, bring me and my assistant two coffees.”

She froze.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Don’t know how to make coffee?”

Emma jumped in.

“Hurry up. We’re VIP guests invited by CEO Ethan Parker.”

Khloe’s eyes filled with tears as she left the room.

When Ethan appeared, his shirt was wrinkled, his tie crooked, his face drawn with fatigue.

Khloe returned with the coffees, looking as if she had just been wronged.

But this time, Ethan did not comfort her.

He scowled.

“Stop crying. If you weren’t so careless, how would we have lost all those big contracts?”

In frustration, he swept the plush toys off his desk. Several potted succulents and the cartoon couple mugs shattered on the floor.

He turned on Khloe.

“Get rid of these pink pillows and change the curtains. With an office looking this childish, who would want to work with us?”

Then he turned back to me, voice suddenly polite.

“Len, the company needs cash flow urgently. Can you lend me a million? I’ll pay high interest.”

I replied evenly, “I’ll think about it.”

Then I stood to leave.

Seeing that Emma and I had not touched the coffee, Khloe asked angrily, “You made me prepare it and won’t drink a sip?”

I shrugged.

“It didn’t look good. Just toss it.”

Her lips went white with rage.

“You’re playing with me on purpose, aren’t you?”

I met her eyes.

“Yes,” I said. “On purpose. Just like you knew Ethan had a wife and still pushed your way into his life.”

My voice carried to the office door.

Employees nearby whispered.

Khloe was so furious she stepped in front of me.

Emma bumped her shoulder.

“Move.”

Khloe flinched aside.

Then Ethan seemed to realize something. His eyes widened as he looked at Emma.

“Lauren, why is Emma with you? Why is she calling you boss?”

I smiled.

“Because I started my own company. Emma is my assistant now. Sorry, Ethan, but that five million went straight into the investment phase. There’s nothing left to lend you.”

His face turned ashen.

“So you came today…” he muttered.

I cut him off.

“Of course,” I said lightly. “To watch your little circus.”

Then I walked out of the office with Emma at my side.

Two months later, my company was in full swing.

With a team of seasoned employees, revenue climbed faster than expected. On the day my company officially went public, the whole team gathered to celebrate at a restaurant overlooking the city.

In the middle of the party, my phone buzzed.

Ethan.

He asked to meet me in a private room at the same restaurant.

I already knew his company was spiraling. Khloe, hungry for power, had pushed out too many experienced people. The ones who stayed, loyal to Ethan out of nostalgia for the early startup days, eventually could not stand her manipulation either.

In just a few months, more than half the staff had left.

The company was in chaos.

Ethan could no longer hold it together.

I booked a small private room and ordered a few dishes he liked, including roasted salmon, the dish that had once bridged the gap between us.

When I walked in, Ethan was already there.

His hair had begun to gray. Dark circles sat under his eyes.

When he saw the salmon, his eyes welled up. His hand trembled as he picked up a piece.

“Not as good as yours, Lauren,” he said.

I sat across from him in silence.

Only a few months earlier, he had seemed untouchable. Now worry had carved lines into his face.

He put down his fork and forced a weak smile.

“Lauren, I’m sorry.”

He paused and took a deep breath.

“Since the day we divorced, I haven’t slept well. The company is in trouble, and I’ve been terrified. That’s when I realized I only got through storms before because you were by my side.”

His voice choked.

“Lauren, now I understand how important you are to me.”

But he held on to his pride.

He never asked me to remarry him.

Maybe because he knew I would refuse.

Maybe because of Khloe, the woman he had chosen even while regret sat heavy in his eyes.

“Len, I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Not just for us. For the company. Our company. I can’t hold on to it anymore.”

I answered evenly.

“Then don’t.”

I knew the root of the collapse.

Khloe.

Because of her, I had asked for divorce. Because of the divorce, he had borrowed everywhere to pay the five million dollars I demanded. The snowballing interest had smothered him. If the company had remained stable, maybe he could have endured.

But Khloe had mishandled several major contracts, turning small cracks into a total collapse.

Ethan lowered his head.

“I regret it, Lauren,” he said. “At first, I just thought she was pitiful. Like a stray cat left out in the rain. I wanted to protect her. But you… you were too strong. I always felt I wasn’t enough to be your support.”

I gave a thin smile.

“To put it plainly,” I said, “you were insecure and cheap.”

He did not argue.

He only lowered his head.

We were about to say goodbye when a group from the next private room came in. This was the older section of the restaurant, and because the place was busy, the manager had seated us in an area with poor soundproofing.

Robert, one of Ethan’s former partners, spoke loudly from the next room, his voice full of glee.

“Ethan is about to go under,” he said. “Ever since the divorce, his luck has gone downhill.”

Another man laughed.

“I heard he fought with his wife over the new assistant.”

Robert smirked.

“Let me tell you something about that assistant. Khloe was actually involved with me first.”

Ethan froze midstep.

Then he slowly sank back into his chair, face ashen.

Robert kept going, proud of himself.

“She was a college beauty queen from a poor family. She wanted me to leave my wife for her. As if. I was afraid she would cause trouble, so I pushed her into Ethan’s company. Who knew old loyal Ethan would actually fall for it? In less than two months, Khloe texted me to break things off and warned me never to bring up the past. I was thrilled.”

Ethan’s grip tightened around the wine bottle, his face hard as stone.

Khloe, the stray cat he had pitied, had been someone else’s discarded problem.

He shot to his feet and stormed into the next room.

There was a crash, then shouting.

I stood watching, unmoved, then quietly returned to my company’s party, where laughter still filled the air.

Ethan was held for two weeks after causing a public disturbance, then released.

Soon after, he filed for bankruptcy.

Before the process was complete, he and Khloe were involved in a fatal accident near an overpass on the outskirts of town.

Neither survived.

Khloe had been pregnant at the time.

Ethan left me a note with only two words.

“I’m sorry.”

When Emma read it, she sighed.

“He couldn’t even write a full apology.”

I shook my head, voice low.

“Maybe he had too many apologies to make.”

We left the office heading to Ethan’s funeral.

A light rain began to fall.

Emma reached into her bag for an umbrella.

“Lauren, you forgot yours?”

I smiled and pulled out my own.

“I didn’t forget.”

Some people, like Ethan, only remember the umbrella they left behind after they are already standing in the rain.

Luckily, Emma and I were not like that.

Ethan had no family left, just as I had none. I arranged his funeral, but I did not give myself a grave to visit every year.

I scattered his ashes into the San Alvara River under a gray sky.

Emma asked why.

I answered softly but firmly.

“In life, he could not keep me and our child. In death, I do not want to keep returning to him. My time, and my child’s time, belongs to those who value us.”

My company kept rising.

The San Alvara sun eventually returned, bright ahead of me.

And I walked forward without looking back, carrying my freedom, my child, and the future I had saved for myself.

THE END.