Just as I finalized the three-hundred-million-dollar M&A deal, I heard Charlotte tell her assistant, Sarah, from outside my office: “Tomorrow’s presentation? Change the lead for the M&A project to Michael.” My hand, poised to open the door, froze. Sarah hesitated, “But Richard has been crunching data all night for the past two weeks, and clients are specifically coming for him…” Charlotte didn’t miss a beat, her tone dismissive: “Michael just graduated; he needs to build his network and establish himself in the industry. Richard is already the boss; what’s the use of these empty titles?” “Once this commission comes through, I’ll buy him that race car. It’ll be his compensation.” The next day, at the big meeting, Charlotte pressed my hand, explaining, “Let Michael take credit for this one. I’ll privately transfer your compensation later.” I pulled my hand away, listening in silence through the entire presentation. Seven years of marriage, and all I got was her using my hard work and dedication to pave someone else’s way. That race car and the boss’s position? Whoever wants them can have them. I’m done with this.
The presentation had just ended. Mr. Stevenson, the partner’s representative, looked at the slightly green Michael on stage, a slight frown on his face. “Ms. Charlotte, Mr. Richard has been our primary contact for the past two weeks. Why has the lead for this proposal changed to… this gentleman today?” Charlotte didn’t bat an eye, explaining with a polite smile: “Michael certainly did create this proposal. He’s just graduated, but he’s full of fresh ideas.” “Of course, Richard supervised the entire process, ensuring everything was perfect, which is why he was your initial contact.” “As long as you’re satisfied with the proposal, who gets the credit shouldn’t really affect our deep partnership.” Mr. Stevenson listened, his confusion only partially resolved, but he nodded approvingly: “I see. Young talent indeed has potential. The proposal is very solid; we are extremely satisfied.” The contract was signed smoothly. People in the conference room gradually dispersed, leaving only Charlotte and me. I stopped what I was doing, asking in a calm voice, “Why didn’t you discuss any of that with me beforehand?” For this three-hundred-million-dollar deal, I’d slept only three hours a night for fifteen consecutive days. Those model codes, I refined them countless times to ensure there were no errors. Now, all that credit went to a newbie who hadn’t done a single thing. Charlotte rubbed her temples, seemingly annoyed by my questioning. “Richard, Michael just graduated. He needs a high-profile start to build his network and get a foothold in the industry.” “In that situation, we couldn’t exactly correct him in front of everyone and make the partner suspicious, could we? We had no choice but to play along.” It was the same old excuse. I looked at her matter-of-fact expression and didn’t argue further. I had only wanted to see her attitude, and now I knew. Seeing my silence, Charlotte noticed my uncharacteristic quietness. She softened her voice: “Alright, don’t be mad. Once this commission comes through, I’ll buy you that race car you’ve been talking about for ages.” “Consider it compensation, okay?” I glanced at her, silently gathered my files, and turned back to my desk. She watched my retreating back, seemingly convinced that the race car had successfully appeased me. Soon after I sat down, Michael approached my desk with a cup of coffee. He put on an innocent, wronged expression, “Richard, I’m so sorry… I honestly didn’t know admin would mess up the name.” “I was so nervous earlier. Should I go explain everything to Mr. Stevenson? I can’t take your credit…” I stared at my computer screen, not sparing him a single glance. Seeing me ignore him, Michael bit his lip, his voice suddenly a little louder, tinged with a sniffle: “Richard, are you mad at me…?” The commotion was perfectly audible to Charlotte, who had just walked out of her office. She strode over quickly, her brows furrowed as she looked at me. “Richard, Michael has apologized to you. Why are you still scowling?” “As a senior, it’s only right for you to pave the way for a junior. Don’t be so petty. Anyway, I’ll give you the full commission from this deal.” Watching her defend another man so fiercely, I found it laughable. For the past seven years, no matter how difficult the opponent, she had always stood by me. We were partners, fully invested, with everything to gain or lose together, and a loving married couple. But now, for Michael, she judged me as “petty” and “narrow-minded.” Since she had said so, there was no need for me to argue anymore.
I looked up and calmly spoke, echoing Charlotte’s words: “Fine, I forgive him.” Charlotte’s expression softened, and she led Michael back to her office. After work, I went straight to HR and handed in my resignation. The HR Director was stunned: “Mr. Richard, what are you doing?” “Just process it,” I said calmly. “But your position is so crucial! Handoff will take at least three days, and Ms. Charlotte needs to be notified first!” “Charlotte already knows about this. There’s no need to inform her again. Someone will take over my position in three days.” With that, I turned and left. I held absolute controlling power in this company. If I said someone would take over in three days, then someone certainly would. Leaving the company, I drove to the racetrack in the hills. My chest felt tight and heavy; I desperately needed a high-speed thrill to vent my emotions. Because I loved racing, Charlotte had invested a lot of the company’s money into this track back then, and I was a VIP here. As I entered the lobby, the receptionist saw me, and her composure visibly faltered. She stammered, blocking my path, “Mr. Richard, I’m so sorry, but the track is undergoing maintenance today and isn’t open to the public…” I saw her evasive eyes and had a hunch. I probed, “Is Charlotte inside?” The receptionist’s eyes widened suddenly, and she blurted out in surprise, “You… you knew?” Sure enough, I ignored her attempts to stop me and walked directly into the inner track area. As soon as I pushed open the door, the roar of engines reached me. A red Aston Martin was parked at the starting line, its window rolled down. I stood not far away, clearly seeing Charlotte in the passenger seat. Half her body was leaned over, her hands guiding Michael’s hands, teaching him how to use the clutch, how to turn the steering wheel, and where to place his feet. They were very close, their posture intimately casual. Watching this scene, memories suddenly stung my nerves. I used to be obsessed with racing. Back then, Charlotte was still very young, and she’d wait for me at the finish line with a bouquet of sunflowers after every race. At the time, I didn’t want to hold her back and refused her many times. But she persisted; she was at almost every one of my races. Until one time, I had an accident on the winding track, and the car rolled and caught fire. I was trapped in the deformed driver’s seat. It was Charlotte who tore at the car door with her bare hands. When I was rescued, I saw her hands covered in blood and scalding blisters. Later, we got together. With her, I found a desire for a normal life and the motivation to make money. Even though my family had more money than we could ever spend, I chose to strike out on my own. Back then, I was the one in the passenger seat, holding her hand and slowly teaching her how to race. Now, she was doing the opposite, teaching another man in the exact same intimate way. It was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over me; I suddenly lost all desire for racing. Charlotte heard the movement and turned around. The moment she saw me, a clear flicker of panic crossed her eyes. But Michael, sitting in the driver’s seat, had an undisguised look of triumph in his eyes. I took one look, then turned and walked away.
Charlotte hastily pushed open the car door and chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Richard, don’t misunderstand! Didn’t I say I was going to buy you a race car? I came specifically to test drive it today, to try out the feel!” Before I could speak, Michael also walked over, smiling innocently: “Richard, I heard Charlotte talking about buying a car, and I’m really interested in racing, so I wanted to learn a bit.” “Charlotte thought I had some credit in this contract too, so she planned to buy me one as well, and teach me while she was at it.” I looked at them and couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “What does this contract have to do with you? What exactly is your credit?” I didn’t hold back. Michael’s face paled, and he looked at Charlotte, wronged. I couldn’t stand to watch their charade, so I shook off Charlotte’s hand and continued to walk out. Charlotte panicked, just about to chase me again, when Michael’s pained voice came from behind her: “Charlotte, I think I sprained my ankle, it hurts so bad…” Charlotte’s steps stopped abruptly. When I got home, the house was dark. After showering, I lay in bed and casually scrolled through Twitter. The first post was a recent update from Michael. The caption: [Thanks to the boss for the reward of a race car, hands-on lessons, even the wind tastes sweet.] Below it was a picture, a selfie of the two of them in racing suits, sitting in the car. After muting Twitter, I opened my phone and sent the drafted divorce agreement to Charlotte. Half an hour passed. No reply. It seemed my messages had completely lost their value to her. This seven-year marriage, through her silent treatment and outright disregard, had completely lost the need for communication. I put down my phone, turned off the light, and went to sleep. The next morning, I was woken by an urgent phone call. I answered, and Sarah’s voice was anxious: “Richard, you need to get to the office right away, something’s happened!” The call disconnected, and I threw off the covers. My gaze swept over the spot beside me; the bed was neatly made and cold, with no sign of being slept in. Meaning, Charlotte hadn’t come home all night. Even in the dull period of our marriage, when we occasionally worked late on different projects, we would silently avoid disturbing each other’s sleep when we came home at night. But we both knew the other had returned home. Now, she wasn’t even coming home. I didn’t dwell on it for long. I got dressed and headed straight for the company. When I arrived at the office, I found out it was an old client I had been managing, who came to discuss a follow-up partnership. Michael had handled the negotiation privately and messed up the deal. Now the client was furious and demanded we fix it immediately. Hearing this news, my head pounded. Drawing on my deep understanding of the project, I immediately organized the work, and we went back and forth on the details during a video conference with the client. Only after finally getting the client to relent and resolving the first crisis did I have a moment to spare. I walked to the office area, looking at Michael sitting at his desk, and asked in a cold voice: “Who gave you permission to privately handle my client?”
Michael flinched, stood up, his eyes red and brimming with tears, utterly wronged. “I’m so sorry, Richard… I just wanted to do more for the company. I really didn’t mean to…” Seeing a man in his twenties respond to a crisis by simply whimpering and crying, I couldn’t stand it. Charlotte’s taste had apparently deteriorated to this extent. Charlotte, having heard the news, rushed over and immediately came to his defense: “Richard, don’t blame Michael. I gave him permission to take on this task.” “He needs experience, and I gave him the client to practice with. Do you really need to scold him in front of so many people?” At that, a bitter laugh escaped me, and I reprimanded her mercilessly: “Charlotte, do you completely disregard my clients, and the company’s reputation as well?” Charlotte froze for a moment. Normally at the company, I gave her all the decision-making power. No matter how outlandish her decisions, I would always cover for her privately and ensured she maintained her authority as CEO publicly. She hadn’t expected me to blame her so mercilessly in front of so many employees. “Richard, watch your tone! I’m the CEO!” she warned in a low voice. “You know about ‘tone’?” I retorted, my voice exceptionally clear in the quiet office area. “With everyone in the company watching, you’re openly favoring him?” Charlotte was instantly speechless, her face turning green then pale. I didn’t stop, staring into her eyes and continuing: “You put his name on the proposal I stayed up all night to create, claiming he did it.” “You’re taking the client relationships I worked so hard to build and letting him practice, just to ruin them.” “Are you planning to train him to be the next company boss, or the next husband?” At that, colleagues bowed their heads, not daring to breathe. Charlotte’s eyes widened: “Richard! How can you say that?!” Seeing her composure crumbling, and our seven years of relationship reaching this point, I couldn’t even bother to feel angry anymore. All my disappointment had been spent; only clarity and indifference remained. I adjusted my cuff, my voice returning to complete calm. “That’s enough. We’re getting a divorce. I sent you the divorce agreement last night.” “Since you don’t like checking messages, I’ll tell you clearly to your face today.” Charlotte stood rigid, her face filled with disbelief. I glanced at Michael, then calmly added the last sentence: “Oh, and someone will be taking over this company tomorrow. You and he should both prepare to pack your things and leave.”
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