My CEO wife, Vivian Hayes, believed her three months of the silent treatment had finally worked when she learned I’d willingly handed over a multi-million dollar project to her favorite young assistant. She beamed with joy, eagerly suggesting an Iceland honeymoon. But her assistant, Julian Chase, was furious when he found out, threatening to quit the company. Vivian, who had always doted on him, panicked. After three days and nights of soothing him, she ditched our honeymoon again, citing a business trip, and gave her ticket to Julian instead. Later, she casually explained to me, “Personal feelings are secondary, Caleb. Work comes first. As a boss, I have to prioritize the company.” “You’re my husband; you should understand, right?” I glanced at Julian’s latest SnapChat post on my phone—a cozy couple’s photo of them, heads touching, flashing a heart sign. I said nothing, just nodded. Vivian thought I’d become more understanding and generous, which pleased her immensely. She even promised me an even more romantic honeymoon when she got back. But what she didn’t know was, I had already submitted my resignation, and she had already signed our divorce papers. She and I, we had no future left.
On the second day of Vivian and her assistant Julian’s “honeymoon,” I completed all my work handovers and processed my resignation with HR. Less than ten minutes later, Vivian’s “Approved” notification popped up. “Looks like Ms. Hayes wanted to fire him a long time ago. Good thing he knew when to leave.” “Right? After all, staying here would only upset Ms. Hayes. Better to leave early. Wonder what he’ll do next.” “Why are we, minimum wage earners, worrying about him? He’s Ms. Hayes’s husband, for crying out loud. Even if he just quits and stays home, he’ll have more money than he can spend.” As I packed my things, my colleagues were gossiping and smirking, clearly enjoying my downfall. I was used to it. Everyone knew Julian and I didn’t get along, and Vivian, my wife, openly favored Julian, often publicly embarrassing me for his sake. Because of this, they’d compete to undermine me, hoping to curry favor with Julian. I scoffed. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m moving to a new company. They’re hiring me at double the salary, and the benefits are much better than here.” Without a glance at their envious expressions, I grabbed my packed personal items and walked out of the office. As soon as I stepped out the main door, my phone rang. It was Vivian. I’d been wondering how to explain my resignation, but when I answered, Vivian said, “I just sent you a file. Get it done and back to me within the hour.” She still didn’t know I’d quit. I let out a mirthless chuckle, opening the file. It was the very project I’d recently handed over to Julian. Just as always. Julian would get the credit and the glory; I’d do the legwork, and if anything went wrong, I’d take the fall. Initially, I had refused. But Vivian would try every trick in the book to persuade me. If I remained adamant, she’d give me the cold shoulder, deliberately staying up late to work on it herself. I couldn’t bear to see her struggle, so I’d always take it on in the end. I used to believe Vivian would eventually understand my genuine efforts. But this time, when she had a massive fight with me for Julian’s promotion, leading to three months of the silent treatment—even when my fever hit 104 degrees Fahrenheit and I was hospitalized, she refused to visit me, just to force me to give Julian the multi-million dollar project I’d spent a month securing—that was when my last shred of hope died. “I’m not in the office,” I replied blandly. “Not in the office?” Vivian’s voice instantly turned icy. “I believe it’s working hours, isn’t it, Caleb Stone? Do you know that unauthorized absence during work hours results in a day’s pay deduction according to company policy?” “I know, but I’ve already…” Just as I was about to reveal my resignation, I heard Julian’s gentle voice from her end. “Vivian, sweetie, if Caleb isn’t willing, don’t force him. I can do it.” “No, you stayed up so late yesterday; you absolutely need to rest today.” Vivian’s tone was incredibly soft. A complete contrast to how she’d just spoken to me. Julian continued to insist he wasn’t tired, but Vivian was firm: “I’m the boss. My order for you to rest is non-negotiable. Do you dare disobey me?” Julian playfully stuck out his tongue. “I just feel bad for Caleb.” “Is he as tired as you? You’re on business trips, managing contracts, while he just sits around doing nothing all day. Besides, he’s my husband, isn’t it his duty to put in some effort?” Vivian scoffed. With one sentence, she erased all my hard work. I no longer felt the initial anger, jealousy, or despair; I just felt numb. It had happened too many times. Seeing my silence, Vivian assumed I’d agreed, and her tone softened a bit. “Caleb, do you truly think I’m just giving you work? I’m trying to challenge you. You’re my husband; you should have more responsibility and drive for the company.” “You should learn from Julian. He worked until 4 AM yesterday. I’ve never seen someone so young, so talented, and so dedicated.” Julian chuckled in the background. “I think Caleb is quite talented too.” His words, however, were laced with thinly veiled disdain. Vivian didn’t catch it, letting out a dismissive laugh. “If he had half your talent, I’d wake up smiling every day.” “Don’t forget, you’re the one who completed all the projects this year.” The two of them chattered, back and forth. I remained silent, unwilling to argue. Julian had poached all those projects from me this year. Vivian knew it perfectly well, yet pretended to be oblivious. She simply believed that after five years of marriage, I wouldn’t divorce her over such trivial matters. “Alright, Julian and I have a client dinner later. Finish that up and send it over as soon as possible.” With that, without waiting for my reply, Vivian hung up. But less than two minutes later, my phone buzzed twice. It was Julian’s new SnapChat post. They were seated across a lavish candlelit dinner. Vivian playfully leaned her head on Julian’s shoulder, and in front of Julian sat a small, elegant gift box—just the right size for a ring. I scrolled down further, seeing Julian’s post from last night. At 4 AM, he and Vivian were still deep into their drinks at a bar, clearly having a blast. So, Vivian’s definition of Julian’s “effort” was drinking. And their “client dinner” later was actually a date. I let out a bitter laugh, not bothering to confront Vivian. It was pointless. She’d always have endless excuses. Even if I cornered her with my questions, leaving her speechless, I wouldn’t get an apology or remorse. Instead, I’d face another endless cold war. Every time that happened, I’d have to find ways to appease her. Now, thinking about it, I realized I could have spent that time working harder, figuring out how to make more money. Hearts can betray you, but money never will. With that thought, I left the company, mulling over my next steps. But just as my car pulled out of the parking lot, my phone buzzed twice. I opened it. A payment notification. Vivian had just dropped another twenty grand on my card.
Everyone thought I was with Vivian for her money. But in reality, she held all my cards. She claimed her personal funds were tied up in the company, so for years, all our expenses and my side-hustle income went towards our shared life. I believed a man should contribute more to the family, so I never argued with her about it. It wasn’t until recently that I realized, despite my high income, I never seemed to save a dime, always feeling like I was running short. I couldn’t help but check my bank statements. That’s when I discovered Vivian regularly used my card to buy gifts for Julian. She’d bought him a gaming console worth hundreds, a suit costing thousands, and even shelled out tens of thousands to book a five-star hotel for his birthday. Yet, for years, she wouldn’t even spring for new underwear for me after two months. Anything over a hundred dollars, she’d fuss about it being too expensive, opting instead to give me a handwritten card, saying she wanted to save money for our future. I couldn’t help but confront her about it. Vivian’s face darkened. She accused me of not trusting her, then gave me the silent treatment, vowing never to use my money again. Thinking about that, I still called Vivian. I tried more than a dozen times, but she didn’t pick up. Seeing this, I didn’t hesitate. I drove straight to the bank and canceled my card. Less than a minute later, Vivian called back. “I was busy earlier, didn’t see your calls. What’s wrong?” she asked, feigning innocence. My voice was calm. “It’s nothing now.” “Oh.” “Your card seems to have an issue; it’s frozen,” she said. “I know.” I didn’t hide it, confessing directly: “I froze it.” “Why would you freeze your card for no reason? Just for fun?” “Let’s just say. But didn’t you say you’d never touch my card again?” Vivian choked. I had never argued with her about money before. Soon after the company launched, I fell seriously ill, needing a sixty-thousand-dollar surgery. Right then, she secretly invested all our savings into a project and lost every last cent. She thought I’d be angry, crying and apologizing to me. But I just comforted her, telling her money was trivial, and my funds were always hers to use first. I thought being open and honest would strengthen our bond, but all it did was give her permission to be completely reckless. Vivian, however, didn’t seem to overthink it. After two seconds of silence, she sighed. “Alright, I get it. You’re still mad I didn’t go on our honeymoon with you, so you’re throwing a tantrum.” “Caleb Stone, I thought you’d finally grown up, but you’re still so petty.” “I promise, after this, I’ll drop everything and go on our honeymoon with you, okay?” “I didn’t bring my cards on this trip. Go unfreeze your card now, don’t be childish. This client dinner later is really important.” “I’m giving you ten minutes, or I’ll be really mad.” As if worried I wouldn’t cooperate, Vivian added a threatening remark before hanging up. In the past, whenever she said she was angry, I would dutifully comply. But she didn’t seem to realize I wasn’t afraid of her anger; I just thought she was already stressed with the company, and I didn’t want to upset her further. Now I understood that I’d tried my best to ease her burden, but her troubles were almost always self-inflicted. If that was the case, why should I bother? “If you didn’t bring your bank card, you can ask your secretary, or even Julian. After all, this business trip is for his project; it wouldn’t be out of line for him to cover the expenses.” After sending her that message, I turned off my phone and drove home to pack. I’d paid for the house outright—her dream layout, her preferred floor. Initially, I’d planned to put her name on the deed too, but by some strange, unexplainable impulse, I kept it solely in my name. Looking back, I was so glad I’d kept a backup plan for myself. After packing my belongings, I listed the house with a real estate agent. The next day, I went to the county clerk’s office and handed the signed divorce papers to the clerk. When I first had her sign the agreement, I was still contemplating how to explain it to Vivian. But she was in such a hurry to grab her luggage and leave that day, she didn’t even glance at it, just flipped straight to the last page and scribbled her signature. “Just take a look,” I’d said, holding onto a sliver of hope. “No need. You’re my husband, why wouldn’t I trust you?” I gave a bitter laugh. Her trust in me back then was less than her trust in Julian. Her so-called trust was just her wanting to quickly dismiss me so she could rush to catch her flight and go on “honeymoon” with Julian. But it also saved me from wasting my breath. However, after I submitted the documents, the clerk informed me that they still needed confirmation from both parties that the marriage had irretrievably broken down before processing the divorce. I showed them the sweet photos Vivian and Julian had taken, and the photos of our wedding portrait she had smashed because of Julian, but the clerk still shook their head. “We need direct verbal confirmation from both parties.” Frustrated, I turned my phone back on. As soon as it booted up, countless missed calls and unread messages from Vivian flooded in. Because I hadn’t unfrozen my card, she’d tried everything from begging to reasoning, and the last message completely ripped into me, threatening divorce. I showed the messages to the clerk. The clerk still shook their head. Left with no other choice, I dialed her number. It took a long time for her to answer. “Vivian, our relationship—” “Relationship? What relationship? Nothing you say now matters! I’m divorcing you, and that’s final!” Vivian, assuming I was trying to win her back as usual, coldly cut me off, then hung up. The clerk finally believed me, looking at me with a sympathetic gaze. They submitted the documents, telling me the divorce certificate would be issued in a month. I knew Vivian’s talk of divorce wasn’t genuine; it was just a threat. In the past, whenever I upset her, she’d often say it. I’d always be the one who couldn’t bear it, relentlessly apologizing and caving to her every demand to make her drop the idea of divorce. She had me completely cornered, knowing I’d never want a divorce, and this had become her ultimate trump card. She thought threatening me with divorce would always get her what she wanted. But she seemed to have forgotten: Love, I realized, was like money in a bank account. If you only withdraw and never deposit, eventually, it runs dry. Because I listed the house at a very reasonable price, it sold in less than a week. I went to the real estate office, signed the contract, and set a handover date with the buyer. When I returned home, As soon as I pushed open the door, I heard laughter and chatter from inside.
The matching couple’s slippers I kept by the door were gone. In their place were a pair of men’s dress shoes and the heels Vivian loved, the ones Julian had given her for her birthday. It hit me then: Vivian and Julian were inside. Weren’t they supposed to be back in two days? As I pondered this, Julian heard the noise and walked out, wearing my slippers and even my pajamas. He had a languid, proprietary air, as if he owned the place. “Caleb, what are you doing back so early? I thought the company hadn’t closed for the day yet.” As he spoke, he deliberately flicked cigarette ash into my water glass beside him. I recognized it. It was one of the matching couple’s mugs Vivian had given me. I used to cherish it, often cradling it in my hands. Vivian emerged from the living room then. She saw Julian using my mug as an ashtray, but merely pretended not to notice. She, who used to gag at the slightest whiff of smoke and vehemently ordered me to quit, now showed not an ounce of discomfort. Being with Julian had indeed changed her significantly. When she saw me, her expression was complex for a moment. Then it darkened. “You skipped work again?” “Caleb Stone, even if you’re my husband, you can’t keep doing this!” “That’s the company, not our home. If you don’t follow the rules, how can I manage everyone else?” Rules? I almost laughed. When it came to breaking rules, who was a bigger culprit than Vivian Hayes herself? A year ago, soon after the company stabilized, Vivian made an unprecedented move, parachuting Julian—who had zero industry experience—directly into a management position. Though I was puzzled, when Vivian insisted Julian had great potential, I diligently mentored him. But Julian spent his days playing games and sleeping. After dragging his feet during work hours, he’d deliberately stay until the early hours, posting a ‘working late’ photo in the company SnapChat group. I reported it to Vivian, but she just brushed it off, saying he was probably just tired and needed to unwind with a game. I asked Vivian to keep an eye on him, and she said she didn’t have time. I suggested installing surveillance cameras, and she said it wasn’t legal. Later, projects began to fail one after another, costing us millions. Julian remained unrepentant, and I eventually lost my patience and demanded he be fired. But Vivian fiercely objected. Finally, she asked me, “Are you just jealous, afraid Julian is too good and will surpass you?” Julian stayed, and immediately began poaching my clients and projects. Vivian saw it all, yet turned a blind eye, instead praising Julian as an exemplary employee and holding me up as the ‘jealous colleague’ to be avoided. I used to feel wronged. But now, looking back, with that level of patience, I could have thrived at any other company, instead of being stuck in this mess. I didn’t speak. Julian gently patted her back, soothing her in a soft voice. “Maybe Caleb knew you were coming back and rushed home for you.” Vivian clearly believed him, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Fine, but don’t let it happen again. Still, how did you know I was coming back today?” Julian chuckled. “Vivian, sweetie, didn’t you forget? HR booked your return flight. She probably told Caleb.” Vivian scoffed lightly. “Caleb Stone, you spend all your time meddling in idle matters instead of focusing on work.” “But don’t think I’ll forgive you just like that.” “You threw a tantrum and froze the bank card, making me lose face with our partners. Julian had to go around borrowing money to settle the expenses.” Seeing my prolonged silence, Vivian thought I was reflecting, as usual, and her tone softened a few degrees. “I might forgive you.” “But first, we need to properly compensate Julian.” “His current apartment is being renovated and isn’t livable for a while. If you clear out this bedroom for him to stay in for some time, I won’t hold this against you.” I shook my head. “But I’ve already sold this house.” “Sold it?” Vivian’s eyes widened. Before she could ask, Julian quickly interjected, “Is Caleb going to sell this house to buy a bigger one to make it up to you, Vivian?” Vivian found this plausible, and her face instantly lit up with joy. “Indeed, we’ve lived in this house for quite some time; it’s time for a bigger one. I’ll contribute some money for it. Don’t sell this one yet; Julian can use it.” “Oh, that’s too much. How much is the rent? I’ll pay market price.” “Pay rent for what?” Vivian’s face darkened. “I’m your boss; do you think I’d make you pay rent?” “But that’s not right. No, the rent must be paid.” “Then a few hundred dollars will do.” The two of them chattered, back and forth, Vivian acting as if the rent was negligible. This house was in the city center, with market rent nearly ten thousand dollars. She found that negligible? Yet, when we dated, she meticulously calculated our shares for even dinner and movie expenses. The difference between being loved and not being loved was stark. “So, what do you say? If you agree, I might reconsider the divorce.” “No need to reconsider…” “How can that be? If I forgive you so easily, without teaching you a lesson, what if your bad habits resurface?” Vivian interrupted me, still thinking I wanted her to drop the idea of divorce. Julian giggled from the side. “Vivian’s right, but please, on my account, forgive Caleb.” “Besides, you and Caleb have been married for so many years; it would be such a pity to divorce now.” Vivian feigned contemplation. Julian simply reached out, gently swaying her, showering her with affection. Vivian playfully said, “Stop it,” but her face was beaming. “Alright, then.” She finally looked at me, satisfied. “Since Julian is also speaking up for you, I’ll forgive you this once.” “You should really thank Julian. After how you treated him, he’s still helping you out.” “Fine, then this divorce…” “You’ve misunderstood.” I cut her off blandly, handing her the divorce papers. “What I mean is,” “We’re already divorced.” Vivian’s smile froze. “What do you mean? You want to divorce me?”
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