Chapter 1

For five years, I was a high-priced trophy wife, pulling in two million a year. My job? Play the perfect spouse to a temperamental CEO, Charles Kingston, and wrangle his cocky, wannabe-mini-boss son, Ben Kingston.

Now, with the contract finally up, I was walking away with 8 million in my pocket and a signed divorce agreement. Time to celebrate my victory, chase after some hot young guys, and enjoy the freedom I had been dreaming of.

But on my last night packing up, that father-son duo blocked me at the door. Ben crossed his arms, copying Charles's signature frown, and asked, "If you leave, who's gonna squad up with me?"

Charles handed me a black card, his voice rough. "Not enough? I'll throw in another 3 million. Stay."

I looked at them and laughed. What kind of new-age employee retention plan was this?

*****

"Olivia, come over here for a minute," Charles called from the living room.

I had just stuffed the last designer dress into my suitcase.

For the past five years, I was his wife on paper, but in reality, I was more like a premium family manager, pulling in 200 dollars an hour.

My job was to be the perfect wife, charming at social events, a pro in the kitchen, keeping his bratty kid in line, and holding my own against his relatives at family gatherings.

I zipped up my suitcase and took a deep breath. Today was the last day of the contract. Once midnight struck, I'd be single, fabulous, and filthy rich, finally free to live life on my own terms.

In the living room, the two men sat upright, all serious. The older one was my so-called husband, Charles, his handsome face colder than a blizzard.

The younger one was his son, Ben, just seven, but already a pint-sized CEO, constantly throwing around words like efficiency and logic.

"According to Clause 4.2.1 of the contract addendum," Ben said, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses, which had zero prescription, "you're supposed to whip up a homemade dessert after dinner. You skipped it today, so that's a contract violation."

I raised an eyebrow, pulled out the divorce agreement I had prepared ahead of time, and placed it on the coffee table right in front of them.

"Mr. Kingston, Mr. Ben Kingston," I said, "according to the main contract we signed, today, January 31st, 2026, is the last day of my five-year employment. Legally, both our marriage and our arrangement end tonight."

Charles finally looked up from the paperwork, his brows furrowed into a deep scowl. He asked, "Just because of a dessert?"

I nearly cracked up. Five years in, and his way of thinking was still as bizarre as ever. Did he seriously think I was walking out over a dessert?

Nope, it was because the contract was up. I was clocking out. I was grabbing my 8 million, reeling in some handsome guys, and enjoying my well-earned retirement.

"Yep, just because of a dessert," I replied, not even bothering to explain. I rolled with it. "Plus, your son secretly poured out the milk I poured for him last night. That totally bruised my professional ego as a gold-star housekeeper."

Ben's cheeks turned red, and he protested, "That's not true. I was... I was just checking what was in it!"

"Oh? So what did you find? Melamine?" I crossed my arms, giving the father and son duo a pointed look.

Charles's face got even colder. He grabbed the divorce agreement, didn't bother to glance at it, and tossed it aside. He said, "Olivia, quit the drama. Your quarterly performance was top-notch. I'm genuinely impressed.

"For the next contract cycle, I'll bump your salary up by 20% and throw in a spacious downtown apartment." Charles looked exactly like a boss trying to stop his star employee from quitting.

I laughed, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that came from the depths of my soul. I walked right up to him, bent down, and locked eyes with him.

"Mr. Kingston, thanks for your generosity these past five years. But I'm going solo now," I said.

With that, I straightened up, grabbed my suitcase, and strutted out like I owned the place.

"Wait!" Ben called out. He jumped off the couch, his little arms stretched out to block me, cheeks puffed up and flushed. "If you leave, who's gonna show up at my math olympiad parents' meeting next week?"

Charles stood up as well, his presence almost intimidating. He pulled a black card from his wallet and handed it to me, his voice rough. "Not enough? I'll add another 6 million. Stay."

I looked at these two jokers—one holding my future hostage, the other trying to buy me off with cash. Did they really not understand, or were they playing dumb?

I took the black card from Charles, and with a calm motion, snapped it in half right in front of his stunned face.

The crisp sound of the card breaking rang out in the silent living room.

"Mr. Kingston, let me give you a little tip," I said, dropping the broken card into the trash. "Money can't buy everything. For example, my freedom."

I grabbed my suitcase and walked straight to the door, not even glancing back. Behind me, the silence stretched on.

Just as my hand touched the doorknob, Ben's voice, thick with tears, called out from behind me, "Olivia! You heartless woman. If you leave, who's gonna carry me and help me rank up?"

My steps faltered for a moment, and I couldn't help but laugh.

See ya, my poor suckers. Your gravy train ended here.