When I went to pay for a cake, the clerk told me my loyalty card balance was insufficient. Checking the transaction history, I discovered the card’s usage had inexplicably jumped from once a week to once a day. But my husband, Brandon, who never liked sweets, always kept the card. There’s no way he’d use it that often! I tried to reassure myself. Maybe he was secretly buying treats for our son, Leo, and didn’t tell me to avoid my disapproval. But when I went back to the cake shop to retrieve the cake I’d accidentally left behind, I saw Brandon walking in, his arm around his assistant, Chloe. I swallowed my rising anger and dialed his number. “Honey, is there any money left on the loyalty card? I’m craving some Strawberry Shortcake.” Brandon chuckled, his voice dripping with his usual affectionate tone. “Of course! I’ve loaded plenty of money on it for you, sweetie. Swipe away!” Just like always, I replied, “You’re the best, honey.” The moment I got home, I called my lawyer. “Draft a divorce agreement for me. I want Brandon to leave with nothing.”
I waited until midnight before Brandon finally walked through the door. “Honey, did you wait up long?” He slipped off his shoes, casually recounting his day. “Work was crazy today, so many meetings, I lost track of time.” “Good thing I pre-ordered your Strawberry Shortcake. I rushed straight back after work.” He knelt beside my leg, his voice laced with that familiar tenderness. “Next time, I’ll make sure to get you a fresh one, that’s when it tastes best.” Brandon was always like this. He’d update me on his schedule, and every night he’d share interesting stories from his day. Thoughtful, considerate, absolutely flawless. That’s why I never doubted him. But now, the question tumbled out. “Did you buy this cake yourself?” “I had Chloe pick it up. I just couldn’t break away.” My heart sank. Chloe. His assistant. The one he’d called a distant family friend, someone he’d known since childhood, claiming she needed his help because he owed her family a kindness from years ago. He was the one who insisted on taking care of her, bringing her into the company. I felt pity for her, not only agreeing but even specifically telling him to give her a higher salary. But now he was lying. All those tender, thoughtful updates, all those late-night chats filled with shared stories. How much of it had been real? How much had been a lie? That night, I lay with my eyes closed, unable to sleep for a long time. Late into the night, Brandon waved his hand in front of my eyes. Then he quietly got up and crept into his study in the dark. In the darkness, I switched on my phone and logged into his old, hidden SnapChat account. Blinding messages popped up, one after another. All from Brandon. “Baby, I miss you so much.” “I was watching you the whole time during the meeting today.” “Just a little longer, and we won’t have to hide anymore.”
The contact’s name was just a simple “Chloe.” That old lie, *she’s like a younger sister to me*, echoed in my ears. No need to overthink it; he had definitely lied. After a sleepless night, Brandon looked at the dark circles under my eyes with concern. “You look terrible today. Get some good rest at home.” “I’ll pick Leo up from school.” He always tried to shoulder my burdens. That demeanor used to make me feel incredibly secure. I nodded, but I still went to the school. Because last week I’d promised Leo I’d take him for his favorite burgers today. Brandon’s car slowly pulled up to the school gate. Stepping out of the passenger seat was a beaming Chloe. Leo burst out of the school and ran straight into Chloe’s arms. “Aunt Chloe! You look so pretty today!” “Even prettier than the fairy pictures Mom shows me!” Brandon stood nearby, watching the scene. A gentle smile, one I’d never seen before, bloomed on his face. I could only hail a cab, following clumsily behind their car. They went to the burger joint. Then, they headed to the dessert shop Leo had been talking about for ages. Through the bright glass window, I saw Leo holding two different toys, clearly new gifts. His cheeks were puffed out, and ice cream stains smudged the corner of his mouth. The most crushing blow came when they were drinking milk tea; Brandon naturally took Chloe’s hand. He leaned down and sipped from the straw she had just used. Their familiarity and intimacy outlined a picture of a perfectly happy family of three. And I was the superfluous observer, completely excluded. I held onto a sliver of hope, thinking Leo was young and didn’t understand anything. Until I heard his childish, loud voice, cutting through the noise with a complaint. “Aunt Chloe is the best! My mom is so stingy and bossy.” “She only lets me have one burger at a time and always forces me to eat those gross greens! It’s so annoying!” In that moment, all my strength drained away. Leo, who was already severely overweight for his age. All the adults in our family spoiled him, indulging his every whim. Only I, his mother, had to harden my heart and be the “bad guy.” Strictly controlling his diet. Using those “gross greens” and the “one burger a week” rule. Struggling to fight against his weight and the looming health crisis. In his eyes, my anxiety and discipline had become stinginess and meddling. And Aunt Chloe, who bribed him with junk food and endless indulgence, was the beautiful, generous angel. That evening, Brandon’s mom invited us over for dinner. The moment I stepped in, I saw the dining table laden with meat dishes. Brandon’s mom noticed my gaze sweep over the food and quickly cut in, smiling. “Oh, it’s the weekend, and Leo hasn’t been over in a while.” “Let him relax and indulge tonight. Don’t say anything, Elara.” I nodded, saying nothing. Leo, however, seemed to have discovered something peculiar. He walked up to me, tilting his head as he scrutinized me. “Mom, why aren’t you telling me off for eating meat today?” “Did you finally lighten up?”
I looked at him, my voice flat. “Eat whatever you want from now on. I won’t control you anymore.” He froze for a moment, apparently not getting the reaction he expected. Then he pouted, slammed down his fork, and loudly declared, “Fine! I don’t want any dinner tonight!” I watched him, my heart growing cold. “Don’t want any,” my foot. It was obvious he’d gorged himself on burgers, ice cream, and milk tea with his dad and Chloe this afternoon. Now he couldn’t eat another bite. Such a young child, yet he could lie without batting an eye. Brandon’s mom immediately panicked, grabbing her grandson who was about to slip off his chair. “You’re growing! How can you skip a meal? What if you get sick?!” Without waiting for a reply, she heaped his bowl with a mountain of rice and meat. Leo was pinned to his chair by his grandma, facing that small mountain of food, his earlier bravado gone. He turned his pitiable, pleading gaze toward me, a clear cry for help. I simply watched him. My heart felt like it was clogged with a stone, pressing down, suffocating me. But I couldn’t make any expression on my face. Brandon finally spoke. “Mom, if Leo really doesn’t have an appetite, don’t force him. Eating too much at night is hard to digest.” Brandon’s mom grumbled but let go. That night, Leo suddenly started vomiting and having diarrhea, his little face deathly pale. He was in so much pain he curled into a ball in bed, crying uncontrollably. Brandon’s mom was frantic and bewildered, muttering as she cleaned up. “What’s going on? He barely ate anything tonight…” I stayed by his hospital bed all night. Watching Leo, weak and miserable, my heart felt like it was being twisted repeatedly, and tears streamed down my face. Around dawn, the medicine finally took effect, and Leo drifted into a deep sleep. The hospital room was silent. But then, Leo frowned, muttering indistinctly in his restless sleep. “Aunt Chloe…” Those words pierced my heart without warning. Even in such a raw, instinctive moment, he called out for her, not his mother. Brandon finally rushed to the hospital as dawn approached. He was carrying an elegant cake box. “Honey, you’ve been through so much tonight. Get some energy.” I opened the box; inside was a mango cake. For a moment, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. Had Brandon forgotten? Had he forgotten that eating mangoes gave me hives and made it hard for me to breathe? I looked up, my gaze sweeping past the cake to Chloe, who had just arrived behind him. She was also looking at the cake. A flicker of smug satisfaction, a look only another woman would understand, passed through her eyes. Suddenly, I understood everything. This mango cake was never meant for me. I suppressed the surge of icy coldness in my heart and turned to Chloe. “Chloe, I hear you love sweets?” “Conveniently, the loyalty card for the shop your brother-in-law and I used to frequent still has quite a bit of money on it. Let me check the exact amount and transfer it for you to use. No need to waste it.” Before I could finish, Brandon’s face instantly changed. He almost lunged to cut me off, chuckling nervously as he took over the conversation. “Oh, what are you saying! Chloe’s always talking about dieting these days.” “She stopped eating cakes and things a long time ago, right, Chloe?” He looked at Chloe urgently, his eyes clearly urging her on. Chloe lowered her eyelids and obediently murmured, “Mhm.” Brandon made an excuse about checking with the doctor and hastily left the room. Suddenly, the hospital room door was violently kicked open with a loud bang! A group of menacing men burst in. The leader scanned the room, his gaze suddenly locking onto me. Without a word, he stepped forward and brutally shoved me. “Damn it! It’s you!” Fists and insults rained down on me. Caught off guard, I curled up defensively, shielding myself with my arms. In the chaos, I heard Chloe’s feigned scream. “Oh my God! Elara! Who did you upset? Why are they assaulting you here, at the hospital?!” But in that instant, I clearly saw it. In between his punches, the leader of the men glanced at Chloe, swift as lightning. That look was undeniably one of seeking permission!
It hit me then. This wasn’t an accident at all; it was a clumsy performance. Rage instantly consumed the pain. I struggled to my feet. Desperate, I wanted to lunge at the woman now cowering in the corner, a smirk of triumph and mockery on her face. Just then, Brandon reappeared at the doorway. He saw me with my arm raised, seemingly about to strike Chloe. And Chloe, looking pitiful and trembling. “Are you insane?! What are you doing?!” He shoved me aside without explanation, completely ignoring any attempt I made to speak, pointing a finger at my face and yelling. “You’ve disappointed me so much! How could you lay hands on Chloe in a hospital?!” I stumbled, hitting the wall, and a sharp pain flared through my injuries. Brandon saw the bruises on my arms and the torn skin. Yet there was no sympathy in his eyes, only deeper annoyance and impatience. “You’re an adult. Go find a doctor for a few scratches! Don’t make a scene here!” He finished, then turned to tenderly support Chloe, his voice instantly softening. “Chloe, are you okay? Are you scared? Let’s go.” I didn’t cry, nor did I try to argue further. I just quietly took out my phone and dialed the number of a trusted friend. “I need you to look into a few people, and find me irrefutable evidence of Brandon and Chloe’s affair.” A fierce, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. When I woke up again, I saw the hospital ceiling. The doctor stood by my bed, speaking with regret. “Ms. Elara, you’ve miscarried. It’s unlikely you’ll be able to have children of your own in the future.” The news reached Brandon, and he finally came. He burst into the room, his eyes red. “Elara, I’m so sorry. I didn’t take good care of you.” “I’m heartbroken about the baby too. From now on, we’ll live a good life together.” “I promise I’ll never upset you again. Please don’t be so stubborn and angry anymore, okay?” He acted utterly devastated, as if he wasn’t the one who had protected another woman and walked out of that hospital room. This belated and false concern only made me nauseous. Just then, Brandon’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, a flicker of panic in his eyes. Though he tried to hide it, I vaguely heard Chloe’s tearful voice. He hung up, then turned, his face now etched with anxiety. “A critical project at the company has run into big trouble. I have to go deal with it immediately.” “You get some rest. I’ll come see you later.” Another lie. Watching his hurried retreating figure, my heart sank completely into an icy abyss. Almost simultaneously, my friend’s investigation results came in. A string of explicit photos and detailed hotel records lay before me. My last shred of hope was utterly crushed. My hands trembling, I opened the home surveillance app on my phone and scrolled back through the footage from when I wasn’t home. When I saw those two familiar figures in various parts of *my* house. Even brazenly entangled on the marital bed Brandon and I had shared for years. A tidal wave of disgust and despair instantly overwhelmed me. The day I was discharged, Brandon, finally “finished” with his work, appeared before me again. He wore that mask of tender thoughtfulness. Naturally taking my bag, he rambled on. “Honey, I’ve taken excellent care of Leo these past few days. His homework is up to date, and I’ve picked him up and dropped him off for his extracurriculars on time.” “He’s been very good, just kept saying he missed his mom and urged me to come pick you up quickly.” Watching Brandon perform as the model husband and diligent father. I felt an unprecedented exhaustion and absurdity. I didn’t look at him, nor did I respond to his chatter. I just quietly took out a prepared document from my bag and calmly handed it to him. “Brandon, let’s get a divorce.” He froze, the smile on his face instantly rigid. I met his shocked gaze, continuing clearly and firmly, “Take a look at the agreement. You’ll leave with nothing, and Leo will be with you.” “I’ll transfer alimony to you regularly.”
Brandon’s tender expression was replaced by incredulous shock. He sounded as if he hadn’t heard me clearly, raising his voice sharply. “Divorce? Elara, what kind of joke is this?! Why?!” He snatched the agreement, slammed it onto the floor without looking at it. “Why? Because I work myself to death at the company all day?” “Because after work, I still have to painstakingly pick up Leo and take him to his classes, not getting a moment’s rest?” “Yes, I’m busy. Yes, sometimes I neglect you, but who is all this for? Isn’t it for *this family*?!” He grew more agitated, as if he were the one who had sacrificed everything and was now misunderstood. “I earn the money to feed and clothe you, allowing you to be a comfortable stay-at-home wife, free from worries about life!” “I believe I’ve been fair to you, fair to this family!” “And what have *you* done all day at home?” “Now, out of nowhere, you want a divorce? And you want me to leave with nothing? And take Leo too?” “Elara, do you have a heart at all?!” Brandon gasped for breath, staring at me, his eyes filled with betrayed anger and confusion. “Tell me, what exactly did I do wrong?” Watching his self-righteous face, blaming me for everything. The last shred of warmth in my heart vanished completely, leaving only a sense of absurdity. I almost wanted to applaud his superb acting. Picking up and dropping off Leo? That was just a perfect excuse for him and Chloe to have secret meetings away from my watchful eye. Every pickup and drop-off time was a sweet rendezvous and shared playtime in the car for them. How could I have ever thought that was thoughtfulness? I slowly raised my head, meeting his angry gaze. “Brandon, have you gotten so deep into your role that you’ve forgotten who you are?” He paused. I continued, enunciating each word, clearly reminding him. “The ‘Story Group’ , is surnamed Su, not Gu.” (Note: The Chinese name here is a pun that would be lost in translation, so I’m focusing on the meaning: ‘My company, not yours.’) “It was left to me by my father and built and expanded by my own hands.” “You, Brandon, are merely a professional manager, overseeing a portion of the daily operations on my behalf.” “When did core decisions and financial power ever fall to you?” “What do you mean, ‘money you earned’? Every single penny of it is *my* money.” “The one paying your salary is me.” Brandon’s face instantly turned ashen. Just then, the phrase he’d sent to Chloe on SnapChat flashed through my mind. *’Just a little longer, and we won’t have to hide anymore.’* So that’s it. The “won’t have to hide anymore” didn’t just refer to their illicit relationship coming into the open. It probably also meant that he believed he had secretly planned long enough. Perhaps in collusion with Chloe, perhaps even with certain people within the company. He was on the verge of destabilizing the company’s foundations, even trying to change the group’s name, to make it “his.” The panic in Brandon’s eyes was quickly replaced by fury. “Elara! I never imagined… I never imagined you thought of me that way!” “Yes, the company was initially your family’s! But these past few years, who has been tirelessly fighting for it day and night?” “Who poured all his heart and soul into it? It was me! Brandon!” He practically roared, veins bulging on his forehead. “I always thought we were husband and wife, the closest people, that there should be no distinction between us!” “Mine was yours, and yours was mine.” “I never thought of separating things so clearly!” “But now I understand that in your heart, I’ve always just been a high-level employee?” “An outsider you can kick out anytime? What do you consider all my years of effort?!” He grew more agitated, suddenly kicking over a nearby chair. “Fine, fine then! Elara, you’re truly something!” Brandon glared at me ferociously, his eyes filled with humiliation and explosive rage. Finally, he spun around, yanked the door open, and stormed out without looking back. Watching the direction he disappeared, my heart held no ripples. Only a sense of urgency. His reaction was so intense, proving I’d hit a nerve. It also meant he might act irrationally out of anger. I had to go to the company immediately! I checked out of the hospital as fast as possible and drove directly to the Group’s main building. However, as I walked toward the executive-only access point, as usual. And habitually swiped my access card. “Beep, verification failed.”
The cold electronic voice was particularly jarring. I tried again, with the same result. Just then, a uniformed security guard quickly approached, blocking my way. “Ma’am, I apologize, but your access is not permitted in this area.” The receptionist, a young woman who had known me for years, rushed over, her face a mix of embarrassment and nervousness. “Ms. Elara, you… why are you here?” “Mr. Brandon issued a special order a week ago, forbidding any unauthorized personnel from entering the core office area.” “Especially you, ma’am. We’re just following orders, please don’t make it difficult for us.” I froze. *Especially* me? I’d only been away from the company for a few days, and it was already almost “Brandon’s”? He moved incredibly fast, it seemed this plan wasn’t something he’d conceived overnight. This disabled access card was the very one Brandon had insisted on getting for me. He had hugged me, saying, “Honey, let’s get you a special ‘partner’ access card.” “That way, every time I swipe my card, I’ll feel like I’m working hard for *our* shared home, and it’ll motivate me even more.” At the time, I thought it was sweet romance. Now, looking back, he had been isolating me from the company’s daily operations from the very beginning. Giving me an empty title, binding me with so-called affection. Tricking me into being a complacent stay-at-home wife. And now, he had effortlessly severed my apparent ties to the company. Useless. Huh. I offered a small smile to the anxious receptionist, indicating she shouldn’t be nervous. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” I pulled out a black metal card. This card was the highest-level security key, configured specifically for me by the tech department when the company was founded. It possessed absolute access, overriding all tiered systems. It could open any door in the Group building, access any level of data. It represented the ultimate ownership and control of the Group. I rarely used it, so much so that many people had forgotten its existence. Including Brandon, who seemed to have gotten ahead of himself. Under the astonished gazes of the security guard and the receptionist, I gently placed the black metal card against the sensor. “Beep—” A crisp, prolonged tone sounded, and a green light illuminated. A cold electronic female voice clearly announced. “Maximum authorization verified. Welcome, Ms. Elara.” The security gate in front of me slowly slid open. I walked through the familiar corridor toward my office. However, arriving at the door, I paused. The nameplate had been changed. It was replaced by a sign adorned with lace trim. It read: “Chloe’s Exclusive Lounge.” My heart plummeted. I pushed the door open. Inside, it was even more unrecognizable. My carefully chosen office furniture, my art collection, and the photos of Brandon, Leo, and me on the walls. Every trace of my presence had been wiped clean. Instead, the room was filled with stuffed animals, a pink carpet, a vanity table, and a cloyingly sweet perfume scent. Brandon had been in such a hurry. He hadn’t even bothered to maintain the slightest pretense of decency. I took a deep breath, suppressing the surge of anger, and turned directly toward the common office area. I knew Chloe would usually be there at this time. Sure enough, she was sitting at what used to be the Administrative Manager’s workstation. Imperiously instructing another colleague to handle her documents. She looked up and saw me, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face. “Oh, Elara? What brings you to the office?” “The air here isn’t great, and it’s so noisy and messy. You’re just recovering; you can’t handle this kind of stress.” “Go home and rest, Brandon and I have everything handled here~” I watched her perform coldly, cutting her off before she could finish. “What do you mean, ‘Brandon and I’? Since when did a junior assistant like you represent the company?” “And who are you to speak to me in that tone?” Chloe clearly hadn’t expected me to be so direct. The fake smile on her face stiffened, then morphed into undisguised scorn and contempt. “Elara, I’m only calling you by your first name out of courtesy, don’t push your luck.” “Everyone in the company knows Brandon got sick of you ages ago, right?” “A useless woman who only stays home and manages her kid, do you really think you’re still important?” She stepped closer, her tone vicious and triumphant. “I’m telling you, Brandon doesn’t love you anymore. His heart and eyes are only for me now!” “Who are you trying to impress with this attitude? Want me to call him right now?” “He’ll only hate you more for barging into the office and making a scene!”
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