Chapter 1

A photograph landed in my messages from Olivia Grant, the woman I'd once called my closest friend. In it, my husband Michael Stone lay sound asleep.

He stretched out atop the bed I'd purchased for her, tucked under the comforter I had hand‑picked as a gift.

Olivia's message sat right below the picture: [Surprised?]

A cold smile played across my face as I sent my retort: [I'm honestly surprised. No need for you to hoard all this excitement for yourself.]

I forwarded the image without hesitation into our company's massive two‑thousand‑person group chat. Tagging every member of the thread, I posted publicly: [A huge round of congratulations for our CEO and Ms. Grant on their new commitment to one another!]

I powered down my phone entirely and left for an impromptu seaside getaway.

Three days later, I switched my device back on. Hundreds upon hundreds of unread notifications flooded the screen immediately.

The very first incoming call came from Linda Stone, Michael's mother. Her voice shook uncontrollably over the line. "Have you completely lost your senses?"

*****

"Emily, you venomous woman! Are you out of your mind?" Linda, who fancied herself high-class, screeched so shrilly that it felt like she was going to pierce my eardrums.

The phone receiver crackled and fizzed as if it couldn't bear the volume.

I held the phone away from my ear and stared out of the window.

The azure sea sparkled like gold under the sun, and the waves crashed tirelessly against the sandy shore, kicking up a flurry of white foam. It was such a beautiful view.

It was such a beautiful view.

Too bad someone decided to dump their emotional trash right in the middle of my vacation. The stench of their drama is honestly ruining the view.

Linda ranted on, "You've shamed this family. What did Michael ever do to deserve this? You heartless, scheming witch. How did our son end up with someone like you?"

I listened in silence, even finding it a bit laughable.

Her son, on our wedding anniversary, had slept with my best friend.

It was me who had been ruined, yet there she was, defending the real culprit over the phone.

I kept my mouth shut, letting her scream and curse hysterically.

Her words felt like filthy stones, hurled with all her might, but they fell into the abyss at my feet, never even reaching me.

My heart had already drowned three days ago, the moment I saw that picture.

In the picture, Michael was sleeping so peacefully, his profile resting on a soft pillow. The quilt only covered him up to the chest, revealing his strong arms.

And that was Olivia's bed.

The 3000-thousand-dollar mattress was chosen by me.

I said it was good for the back, and the quilt too, picked by me because I thought the color suited her skin tone.

What a huge irony.

It was like I was a clown, setting up a love nest for them with my own hands.

They were celebrating their betrayal of me on the very bed I carefully selected.

Olivia's "Surprised?" echoed in my ears, each word dripping with arrogance and mockery.

She had successfully snatched away the happiness I once thought was mine.

"Emily, are you listening? I'm talking to you. Can't get your tongue?" Linda's roar yanked me out of my recollection.

I mumbled a nonchalant "Yeah," as casually as if I was asking about the weather.

This cool-as-a-cucumber response clearly added fuel to the fire.

There was a louder gasp on the other end, followed by a man's voice, cold and seething with suppressed rage.

"Emily." It was Michael, my husband, the high-and-mighty CEO of Oceanview Corporation.

"Had your fun yet?" he demanded, with a condescending air of judgment, as if I was just an immature kid throwing a tantrum.

He commanded, "Get your butt back here right now. Delete the messages in the group and post an apology. Say your account was hacked. I can let this whole thing slide."

There was no trace of guilt in his voice, only irritation at having his authority challenged.

He could "let it slide." What a generous offer, what a ridiculous excuse for mercy.

I could almost picture him now, frowning, looking utterly fed up, believing all my actions were completely unreasonable.

In his eyes, I was just his appendage. The position of Marketing Director was his gift to me, and my family's prosperity was thanks to him.

I was supposed to be grateful, should turn a blind eye to his betrayal, and meekly clean up the mess after he slept with another woman.

Who the hell did he think he was?

"Emily, my patience is wearing thin." His voice turned even colder, threatening.

I stared at the horizon where the sea met the sky, taking a deep breath of the salty air.

"Let's talk about divorce," I said softly, but every word was crystal clear.

There was a deathly silence on the other end.

Even Linda's heavy breathing stopped.

I could feel Michael's fury through the phone, as if it was about to burn a hole through the device, but I didn't care anymore.

Before he could explode, I hung up.

Finally, peace.

The next moment, the phone screen lit up again, this time with a text from Olivia: [Emily, please listen to me. It's not what you think. It was all a misunderstanding. Michael was drunk, and I was just looking after him. We didn't do anything.

[Come back soon. Don't make this any messier. It's not good for you or the company.]

Every word was like a stab, as she played the innocent damsel in distress.

Disgusting.

I blocked her number as well.

Then, notifications on all social apps went crazy.

The company's internal forum and department groups were in an uproar.

My screenshot was being shared like wildfire, accompanied by all sorts of sordid speculations and gossip.

[Mrs. Stone is really going all out, huh?]

[Is Ms. Grant finally ascending the throne?]

[I knew there was something between them. I saw them coming out of a hotel together last time.]

[Poor Ms. Carter, getting cuckolded by her husband and best friend.]

I scrolled through the messages expressionlessly.

I had worked my ass off for Michael and this family, tiptoeing carefully in the company.

I had lifted the Marketing Department from a third-rate one to a top-notch one, securing his position on the board.

I had handled all the dirty jobs he didn't want to touch to maintain his flashy CEO image.

I even kept my achievements low-key to protect his fragile ego.

And what did I get in return? A photo of him sound asleep and a mocking "Surprised?"

The sea breeze tousled my hair, but I had never felt more awake.

I murmured, "Michael, Olivia, and Linda, your performance is over. This time, I'm taking the stage."