Chapter 1

At the company's seventh anniversary celebration, my husband wiped me out of the company's history in front of two hundred employees.

When the lights dimmed, I was still sitting in the audience, holding champagne in my hand.

Connor stood center stage, smiling as he looked at the big screen behind him.

The first photo appeared on the screen.

Connor was standing in the tiny office we’d first rented.

But the woman beside him wasn’t me.

It was Brooke—his childhood best friend.

The caption read: The Early Days.

I stared at those words, struck by the irony.

During our hardest year, I was the one who slept beside Connor on the office floor.

I was the one revising proposals at three in the morning, keeping us going every time the company account ran dry.

Not Brooke.

The next photo appeared.

The two of them were holding champagne glasses.

The caption read: Our First Investment.

But that money had come from me.

When we couldn’t make payroll, I cashed out my investments and put every cent I had into the company.

Brooke hadn’t even been around back then.

Then came the third photo.

The fourth.

Our first major client.

Our first real office.

Our first magazine feature.

Brooke stood beside Connor in every one.

All the moments I’d helped create were being rewritten right in front of me.

And in this version, I didn’t exist.

I sat in the audience and watched another woman take credit for seven years of my life.

At the end of the video, golden subtitles slowly emerged: To the woman who knew him first—and always knew him best.

The entire audience erupted in applause. The host on stage held the microphone and smiled, "Tonight, let's invite the woman who understands him best and has accompanied him all the way to this stage—"

The host didn't even say my name.

As soon as he finished speaking, Brooke, who was sitting in the front row, gracefully stood up.

She wore a custom-made, exquisite gown, her face wearing a perfectly rehearsed smile, as if she were the sole female lead of the night.

People around began applauding, naturally turning their gaze to her.

Connor stood on stage, not only refusing to stop her, but instead smiling and reaching out his hand to her, his eyes full of undisguised indulgence and pride.

He never glanced at me from start to finish, letting Brooke walk up the steps toward him and embrace him tightly under the spotlight.

Employees and investors around me cast sympathetic or watchful glances at me.

I didn't cry, nor did I make a scene.

I simply stood up calmly, turned around, and walked out of the noisy banquet hall.

In the quiet corridor, I pulled out my phone.

The phone rang only twice before it was answered.

"Hello, this is Madison & Associates Law Firm," a crisp, professional female voice came through the receiver.

I gripped my phone, my gaze cutting through the glass window of the corridor to land squarely on the man in the center of the ballroom, surrounded by the spotlight and smiling with utter self-satisfaction.

"Hello," I said, every word clear and steady, my voice surprisingly calm even to my own ears. "I'd like to consult about the divorce procedure."