My CEO wife insisted on keeping the fresh-out-of-college wolf cub intern by her side, personally mentoring him. She told me: “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just see potential in him.” Yet this typically meticulous and mature woman suddenly started wearing pink dresses and tying her hair in high ponytails. She even went completely off the grid for 48 hours with that intern on our third wedding anniversary. While everyone was frantically searching for her, she posted photos on Facebook of herself riding a carousel with cotton candy in hand. The caption read: [Found the purest joy in this place of happiness, because of you!] The company lost a major project because of this, and I lost my wife. I slipped the divorce papers inside the intern’s promotion report and placed them before her. She signed without even looking and immediately said: “With Ryan Garrison’s abilities, he’s more than qualified to be Vice President.” I calmly handed her my resignation letter and replied: “You’re right, so I’m stepping aside.” … Claire Laurent and I were financially independent. In the divorce agreement, I only mentioned our marital home. I had planned to discuss the rest when I got home. Ryan chose that inopportune moment to walk in. “Mr. Kingsley, HR sent me to discuss my promotion with you.” HR directed him to me because they couldn’t decide between Claire, the CEO, and me, the Vice President. I didn’t give him the cold shoulder as I usually did when he suspiciously clung to Claire. Instead, I simply took his promotion report and said flatly: “You can go now.” But Ryan plopped himself down on my office sofa, refusing to leave. “This office is really spacious, isn’t it?” “Mr. Kingsley, don’t you think I’ll be working in here before long?” As he spoke, he lightly tapped the back of the sofa with his fingers, as if certain he would become this office’s new occupant. I ignored him and called security directly: “Send two people to my office. Someone refuses to leave.” When Ryan realized I wouldn’t personally throw him out—giving him no opportunity to play his fake innocent act—his expression briefly faltered. But he quickly regained his composure and started taunting me: “Really, Mr. Kingsley? That thin-skinned?” “I’m just sitting here, and you’re calling security to throw me out? If Ms. Laurent hears about this, she won’t be pleased!” I didn’t respond. Since joining the company, Ryan had done nothing but fawn over Claire and wander around aimlessly, showing no signs of doing any actual work. He played the two-faced manipulator in front of others, yet always seemed eager to provoke me. Though Claire and I kept our marriage private, the inevitable subtle intimacies and interactions between real spouses could easily lead to speculation. This understated connection had persisted for eight years, yet it couldn’t withstand Claire’s blatant favoritism toward Ryan over the past six months. Our colleagues had already shifted to shipping them together. Fortunately, I no longer cared. Security arrived looking intimidating, but deflated immediately upon seeing Ryan was the one refusing to leave. It spoke volumes about Claire’s influence that a mediocre intern could intimidate the entire company. “Mr. Kingsley, is there… some misunderstanding here?” Looking at the timid security guards, I coldly asked: “Does Security no longer understand its own responsibilities? Are you treating company policies as if they don’t exist?” Meanwhile, Ryan maintained his smug demeanor. “We all know Mr. Kingsley loves throwing his weight around. This isn’t news.” “Ms. Laurent said once I take over, the company culture will change.” “Everyone just needs to hang in there a little longer.” This blatant provocation caused both security guards to lower their heads, looking pathetically spineless, clearly wanting no part in our conflict. They were mistaken. Even if I had “fallen from grace,” I remained the company’s second-in-command. I removed my glasses and said calmly: “I see. Tomorrow I’ll have HR reassess the value of maintaining a Security department.” Hearing this, the guards immediately broke into a sweat. Ryan’s smile froze slightly. He hadn’t expected me to be so firm, and could only save face by pretending to be concerned for the guards as he slunk out of my office. After composing myself, I went to Claire’s office. Claire barely looked up and asked: “Something you need?” Seeing her cold, irritated expression felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Still, I maintained my composure and asked: “Are you just going to let Ryan run wild in the company?” Claire’s voice was filled with displeasure: “Could you stop being so harsh? Ryan’s just starting his career—what ulterior motives could he possibly have?” “It’s you who needs to stop bullying him and targeting him at every turn.” I laughed bitterly: “Which part of his behavior seems innocent to you?” His act of being a pushover only fooled Claire, who mistook it for genuine affection. Claire’s expression visibly darkened: “You have no right to manage my people. If there’s nothing else, please leave.” I stared at her, searching for any trace of affection in her eyes, but found only coldness. Sighing in resignation, I approached her desk and placed several documents on it, like a routine task. “This is Ryan’s promotion application. HR couldn’t decide, so you should sign it.” In our husband-and-wife company, either of our signatures would normally suffice. But today, I deliberately didn’t make the decision myself. Claire paused, looked up at me, and asked: “Why can’t you sign it?” I offered a reasonable excuse: “You know Ryan’s performance under me doesn’t meet the standards. This should be your decision.” This was both truth and a test. I pretended to be indifferent while watching Claire, harboring an unrealistic hope. If only you wouldn’t sign…
Claire was about to review some documents when her phone screen lit up. Seeing the caller ID, she quickly answered. “Yes, yes, it’s fine, I’m not upset. Wait for me in the car.” After hanging up, she glared at me, her tone impatient: “You call security to remove Ryan, then tell me his promotion is my decision?” “I—” Slap! She struck me across the face, leaving my cheek burning. “Are you really that threatened by an intern? Or are you afraid he’ll steal your pathetic spotlight?” I laughed with bitter irony. Whenever Ryan complained, she never considered whether I was following protocol—she always took his side. I’d been battling in the corporate world for years; dealing with a young man like him would be simple. But the more I tried to discipline him, the more she resented me. As if the more vulnerable Ryan appeared, the more justified he became. With a heart full of bitterness and nowhere to vent, I chose silence. Her chest heaved with anger as she grabbed her handbag, ready to leave. I called out softly: “Please sign this first, so HR can process the promotion.” Claire frowned, visibly irritated. She snatched the pen, signed quickly, and hurried out. I smiled ruefully at myself. If she’d taken even a glance, she would have noticed the divorce papers tucked between the promotion documents. But whenever Ryan was involved, she transformed into someone else, completely devoid of reason. Claire and I married under pressure from both our parents. From the beginning, our marriage lacked a foundation of love. I’d pursued her since university but never received any response. Later, because our professional backgrounds aligned, I was fortunate enough to become her business partner. Three years after founding our company, she mentioned her parents’ persistent pressure to marry and asked if I’d consider a whirlwind marriage to silence the critics. So we skipped the dating phase and walked straight into matrimony. I always thought career-driven women like her were naturally cold, loving their work above all else. Until I accidentally came across her diary and discovered she still harbored feelings for someone from her past—her deceased first love, Xander Hayes. The man was already gone; I wouldn’t compete with a ghost. If anything, it made me feel more sympathy for her. Then Ryan arrived. His features resembled Xander’s with striking similarity, throwing our normally composed female CEO into complete disarray. Her once decisive leadership faltered whenever Ryan was involved. She even tearfully lamented while drunk in front of me: “Born too late to meet you… cursed by time’s cruelty… Tell me, why was I so impulsive to get married?” Watching her with bleary eyes and tear-stained face, I felt as though a knife was repeatedly stabbing my heart. I once believed that while our marriage lacked passionate romance, it could still exemplify a “marry first, love later” success story. But with Ryan’s appearance, our five years of marriage instantly became nothing more than an impulsive mistake. I smiled bitterly, wanting to object but feeling something lodged in my throat. “Do you regret being with me that much? What have these five years meant to you?” That time, I finally confronted her. She just smiled dreamily, her gaze distant, as if seeing something she yearned for in that emptiness. “I feel so old now. Standing next to him, it’s like we’re from different worlds. How could I ever be worthy of him…” She didn’t realize those words extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. I finally understood that I had become her discarded past, not even worth the breath it would take to acknowledge our five years together. I never mentioned those drunken confessions to her. Given her alcohol tolerance, drinking until blackout was clearly intentional. I couldn’t imagine the depth of her inner turmoil. Initially, I pathetically told myself to ignore it. As long as she remained by my side and the company functioned normally, I could numb myself with work—pretend not to see their ambiguous interactions, ignore colleagues’ whispers. But they grew increasingly brazen, exchanging glances across company events and openly attending important business functions together, leaving less and less space for me, her husband. Even last Monday, on our fifth wedding anniversary, she failed to show up. She had promised to meet me but disappeared for 48 hours—no calls, no messages. I was frantic, searching everywhere, fearing something terrible had happened. To make matters worse, that day a major potential client requested to meet our company’s leadership. I was both furious and worried. I’d researched this client’s corporate culture and business style; reaching the stage of meeting the principals meant we were close to securing the contract. This deal was crucial for the company, potentially offsetting losses from her previous poor decisions. Yet Claire, typically so reliable, was completely unreachable. The client felt disrespected and immediately partnered with our competitor instead. Of course, compared to her safety, none of that mattered. While I was searching for her and preparing to file a missing person report, I stumbled upon her Facebook update. A jarring photo. A heartbreaking caption. In the picture, she wore a pink mini-dress unsuitable for her age, sitting on a carousel she’d previously called childish, holding cotton candy she never liked. The caption read: [Found the purest joy in this place of happiness, because of you!] When she returned, I’d been awake for nearly 48 hours. Exhausted, I simply asked: “Where were you? Who were you with?” She turned it around on me: “I was just meeting a friend. Why did you call so many times? Like you were hounding me!” Meeting a friend? She disappeared with an intern—who else could she have been meeting? In that moment, something inside me collapsed. All my expectations, affection, and love for her extinguished like a candle in a gale, leaving nothing but cold ashes. I didn’t say another word. Holding the divorce papers with her signature, I felt a liberating relief. I took out my phone and called a CEO who had previously tried to recruit me with a generous offer: “Mr.Chamberlain, you mentioned earlier that your overseas branch needed someone in charge. Is that position still available?”
When he heard me bring up the matter, his voice changed with excitement. “You’re willing to join us?” “That’s fantastic! Ian Kingsley, you’re truly an exceptional talent in business development and management. As long as you’re interested, I’ll arrange everything immediately.” “Regarding compensation, it will definitely be better than what you’re getting now.” “If Ms. Laurent is reluctant to let you go, I’ll personally speak with her. How does that sound?” Conrad Chamberlain was a well-known business tycoon in the city, and his wife had been my professor in college. Although Laurent Technology Group was developing well, it still lacked sufficient capital flow and high-level talent reserves, which limited its growth. That’s why Conrad had been trying to recruit me to help him expand his market. I had refused before, of course. After all, Laurent Technology Group was founded by my wife and me, like our child. Looking back now, I was too stubborn, missing out on such a great opportunity. “Thank you, Mr. Chamberlain. I’ll work hard.” … When Claire returned, I was writing my resignation letter. She didn’t look at me, just walked in and busied herself with her phone. After showering, she sat at the dressing table, drying her wet hair. “Ian, I need to fly to Derbyshire for a conference in a few days. Please keep an eye on things at the company.” She was always like this. One moment she’d slap me across the face, and the next she’d act as if nothing happened, discussing work with me as though our conflict never occurred. Perhaps this had something to do with my repeated compromises. Our relationship was too fragile—so fragile that each time I feared the slightest misstep would shatter it completely, so I kept pretending not to care and accommodating her. Now it’s clear that forcibly covering up our conflicts never works. … After blow-drying her hair, Claire walked to the bed and leaned down to kiss me. I instinctively turned my head, and her kiss landed on my chin instead. We were both surprised by our actions. Usually, I was the one seeking intimacy, but tonight when she finally initiated, I avoided her. I closed my laptop and said softly, “Let’s sleep, it’s getting late.” Claire frowned slightly and asked, “What’s wrong?” I coughed casually and made an excuse: “I’m coming down with a cold. Don’t want to infect you.” Claire didn’t question it and continued, “Mr. Hayes from Golden Age Group invited me to dinner this Friday. I want you to come with me.” Without looking at her, I replied, “Alright.” As a married couple in business, we rarely attended the same functions together. Partly to avoid suspicion, and partly because we each had different social styles and approaches, working separately often allowed us to leverage our respective strengths better for the company’s benefit. For these dinners, she typically only brought her secretary. But her former secretary, who had worked well with her, was fired for offending Ryan. Ryan was all style and no substance—lacking emotional intelligence, competence, and even the ability to hold his liquor. No wonder Claire needed me now. After turning off the lights, we each lay down to sleep. The next day, I met a few close friends for drinks as a farewell, though I didn’t explain clearly. They could only guess, assuming I was having relationship problems. While we were enjoying our drinks, we spotted Claire and Ryan finishing their spaghetti, about to leave. My friends all knew we were married. Claire’s expression immediately turned awkward. Clearly, she didn’t want Ryan to know she was married, much less that I was her husband. “What are you doing here?” she asked, pretending to be casual. “As you can see, just hanging out with some friends,” I replied calmly. My buddies, feeling I was being treated unfairly, made some sarcastic remarks: “Well, if it isn’t Ms. Laurent’s little shadow. Do you need to stand that close?” “Even after hours, our Ms. Laurent needs her dedicated assistant by her side. Always joined at the hip—how do you manage it, kid?” Claire’s face darkened. She glared at me, then retorted, “If you’ve had too much to drink, go home. Don’t make such crude jokes here.” Ryan quickly explained, “You’ve got it all wrong, gentlemen. I’m just learning the business from Ms. Laurent—it’s purely professional, nothing like what you’re suggesting.” This chance encounter left everyone unhappy. Claire was in a hurry to leave when one of my buddies stopped her. He deliberately said, “Ms. Laurent, Ian’s had too much to drink today. He definitely can’t get home by himself. Since you’re heading the same way, why don’t you take him home?” As soon as he said this, Ryan turned around. Confused and displeased, he said, “Sir, if Mr. Kingsley is drunk, he can just call a driver. Why should Ms. Laurent take him home?” Everyone could see I had feelings for Claire, and Ryan was no exception. That’s why he was rude to all of us, adding, “Besides, they don’t even live in the same direction!” One of my friends was so angry he almost stood up to punch him. Claire quickly stepped in front of Ryan and said, “Don’t you dare touch him!” Seeing how protective she was of Ryan only made my friend angrier. He pointed at Claire and said, “Claire, don’t push me. Tell this pretty boy right now what’s really going on between you and Ian!” Claire’s expression turned cold as she met my friend’s furious gaze. “That’s none of your business. You have no right to interfere.” Ryan stood behind her, slightly lifting his chin with that smug, challenging look I’d seen so often. But at this moment, it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. My friend was about to lose control. Just as he was about to explode, I placed my hand on his shoulder. Then I looked at Claire with a smile and said, “My friend’s drunk. You two can go.” Claire sighed with relief, eager to leave. But Ryan just had to press the issue: “Ms. Laurent, what was he saying about your relationship with Mr. Kingsley? What’s that all about?” A flash of panic crossed Claire’s eyes. Feeling both helpless and amused, I stepped in to defuse the situation: “Ms. Laurent and I were college classmates. After all these years, we’re naturally friends.” Ryan gave me a suspicious look. He wanted to ask more, but seeing Claire’s discomfort, he didn’t dare push further. Claire glanced at me in confusion before hurrying away. My wife walked off with another man right in front of all my friends. And I had to stand there saying: we’re just friends. How heartbreaking and ridiculous is that? No need to explain—it’s all in this drink! I didn’t get home until dawn. To avoid disturbing Claire, I slept in the study. The next day, I finally saw her at the office. She was sitting on the couch in my office, apparently waiting for me. I thought she wanted to confront me about last night, but instead she said, “I missed our anniversary last week. I know you’re upset, so let’s leave work early today and make up for it.” I was surprised and felt it unnecessary. But I didn’t want to face her cold demeanor all day—that would make work difficult. So I immediately replied, “Let’s go to the French restaurant nearby.” I knew she liked French cuisine, so I suggested it directly. Actually, I wasn’t too disappointed about her missing our fifth Christmas anniversary. Even before Ryan came along, she was always dismissive about our anniversaries—either not celebrating them or standing me up. That day, she only wanted to reserve for her deceased first love. Who would have thought she’d set our marriage registration date on Xander’s death anniversary? Before leaving work that evening, I showed Claire Ryan’s position transfer application form. “The position field is blank. Fill it in yourself and follow the procedure to avoid trouble later.” Neither the HR department nor I could give Ryan—this freeloader who hadn’t even earned a permanent position—a suitable role, so it was better to let Claire decide. Without a second thought, she wrote “Deputy General Manager” and signed the last page. I reminded her, “We need two copies—one for the employee and one for HR to keep on file.” She didn’t hesitate and signed both. After collecting the documents, I felt a bit dazed. I had used the same trick to get her to sign my resignation letter, and she never noticed.
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