Chapter 1

When my husband Richard Summers announced my firing at the board meeting, his secretary Jessica Summers finally dropped her act.

She plopped down in my seat right in front of all the executives, crossed her legs, and taunted, "Take care, Claire. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

Nodding calmly, I grabbed my bag and headed out.

No one noticed the quick tap I made on my phone screen before leaving. It was a confirmation for a transfer that would shake the company to its core.

The next day, the company erupted in chaos.

The chief financial officer burst into the CEO's office, his face as white as a sheet. "17.5 billion dollars! All gone from the accounts.

"We can't even make payroll, and we're behind on utility bills."

Richard collapsed into his chair, finally realizing the truth: he had never been the real owner of this company.

Jessica's smile froze instantly.

*****

Richard's voice echoed through the conference room via the microphone, cold and utterly devoid of warmth.

"Now, I will announce the final personnel decision."

At the end of the long conference table, he stood, with the city's glittering skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.

The glow caught his high-end suit, but failed to reach the bottomless coldness in his gaze.

Seated to his immediate left was me, Claire Stone, vice president of the company and his wife of five years.

I lifted my eyes and looked at him quietly.

Over five years of marriage, I'd helped him climb from a neglected boy of the Summers family to the helm of a multi-billion-dollar corporation.

I'd thought this celebratory board meeting was meant to crown our shared success until he spoke his next words.

"I'm removing Claire Stone from her position as vice president and all board memberships. Effective immediately."

Every executive in the room, those who'd usually bowed and scraped before me, now fell dead silent.

Their eyes darted across my face, a mix of shock, sympathy, and mostly, a silent complicity.

This was a setup, a trap laid for me, and I was the last one to find out.

My gaze drifted slowly from Richard's face to his side, where Jessica stood.

As Richard's nominal sister, adopted by the Summers family, she wore a tight, bright red dress, which was completely out of place for the formal business setting, yet somehow fitting in this moment of betrayal.

Her face bore an unmasked, triumphant grin.

The second Richard finished speaking, she moved.

Her high heels clicked sharply against the polished marble floor, one step at a time, until she stopped right in front of my seat.

Looking down at me with a smirk, she said, "Claire, this seat isn't yours anymore."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the silence clearly enough for everyone to hear.

I didn't move or say a word, just stared back at her calmly.

Every trace of her vanity felt sweet on the surface, yet vicious underneath.

Richard finally spoke up, a hint of irritation in his voice, "Claire, don't make this awkward for everyone."

A faint, cold smile touched my lips as I turned to Richard.

This was the man I'd loved and supported for five years.

No guilt or hesitation lingered in his eyes, only cold detachment and impatience, as if I were nothing more than a troublesome object to discard.

At that moment, I turned utterly numb, not a single emotion stirring within me.

I stood up and closed my laptop gently, my movements calm and unflustered.

I nodded at Richard. "Fine."

One word, sharp and decisive.

Everyone was stunned.

No tears, no accusations, and no hysteria. Nothing they'd expected came to pass.

I was as calm as an outsider.

Jessica looked surprised for a split second, but that quickly turned to even more triumph.

She thought I'd given up, that I'd been scared into submission.

She couldn't wait to sink into my chair, the seat still warm from where I'd been sitting.

Crossing her legs, she let her bright red skirt fan out in an arrogant arc, glancing around the room like a newly crowned queen.

Finally, her eyes landed on me, filled with condescending sympathy. "Take care, Claire. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

I nodded again, grabbed my handbag, and turned toward the conference room door.

My back stayed straight, every step steady and unwavering.

No one noticed the faint tap I made on my phone screen as I turned, my hand hanging at my side.

It was the confirmation button for a transfer.

No one saw the notification that popped up the second my finger made contact: [Transfer successful.]

The door opened, and I stepped through it, closing behind me the room full of hypocrisy and betrayal.