Chapter 1
On our third wedding anniversary, I brought my husband, who was suffering from stomach problems, a bowl of soup. As soon as I left the company, the new female assistant put me on blast online, calling me an old woman using my money to chase after her boyfriend.
The comments section was full of people calling me gross, shameless, and telling me to get lost. She had no idea that the so-called boyfriend was actually my husband.
She also didn't know that the first chunk of money that saved this company came from me. She wanted to use me as her stepping stone. Well, I'll rip out every step under her feet, one by one.
*****
Francis and I had been married for three years.
I founded Lumin Bio when I was 24. We started with just two restorative serums, working out of a rented office on the seventh floor of an old building.
In the summer, the AC would trip the breaker every time we turned it on, and in the winter, the water heater barely worked, so we all took turns boiling water with an electric kettle.
Back then, Francis had just quit his job at an ad agency and joined me, running around to different stores, negotiating shelf space for our products. He was quick with words and always on the move.
As the company grew, I pushed him into the spotlight, making him the general manager in charge of branding, marketing, live streaming, and fundraising.
I stepped back, handling R&D and supply chain.
Most people outside the company knew him, but not me.
Especially after we merged the live streaming division last year, a bunch of new employees only recognized him and didn't even know I was the real boss.
I couldn't be bothered to argue about it.
Having one spouse in the spotlight and the other behind the scenes made things efficient and kept the drama to a minimum. That was what I always thought.
Until that day.
It was our anniversary, and Francis had a stomachache the night before. He was curled up on the couch, clutching his stomach, his face pale.
I made him oatmeal and simmered some chicken soup. He left in a rush that morning and forgot his meds at the entryway. I figured I'd drop them off for him around noon, since it was on my way.
I wore a plain beige sweater, pulled my hair up casually, and didn't even bother with lipstick.
When I got to the office, the secretary recognized me and let me in.
Francis was in his office, looking over ad placement reports. When he saw me, he paused for a second, then got up and took the thermos from me, frowning. "It's windy out there. Why'd you come by yourself?"
I set the medicine on his desk.
"You forgot your meds this morning," I said. "And here's some soup. Drink it before it turns cold."
He must've been in real pain, because after a couple of sips, his expression softened. He reached out, hugged me, and kissed my forehead.
"Clarissa, you're always the sweetest," he said.
I was about to tell him to cut it with the sweet talk when the door suddenly opened.
A young woman stood in the doorway, probably in her early twenties, with flawless makeup. Her name tag said Kyla Wolfe.
She had one hand on the doorknob and a tablet in the other, her eyes flicking between Francis and me, her expression kind of weird.
"Mr. Farmer, sorry, I didn't know you were busy," she said.
She said she was sorry, but there wasn't a trace of apology in her voice.
Francis let go of me, his tone cooling. "Next time, knock before you come in."
Kyla immediately lowered her head. "Got it, Mr. Farmer."
I didn't think much of it.
She was new, so not knowing the rules was normal.
I didn't even bother to memorize her face.
That night, a friend sent me a post on WhatsApp.
The title was explosive.
[A rich woman from some brand thinks she can use her money to seduce my boyfriend at work. Absolutely disgusting.]
The photo was a blurry side profile of me standing in Francis's office earlier that day.
It was fuzzy, but you could still tell it was me.
Under the post was a whole tirade, packed with accusations.
[She's probably in her thirties, right? Just because my boyfriend's young and handsome, she keeps finding reasons to come to the office.]
[So what if she's rich? At her age, she's still trying to act cute and flirt like a schoolgirl. The audacity.]
[My boyfriend's just enduring it because he's scared of losing his job. I feel so bad for him.]
[Doesn't she have a husband at home? Women like her deserve to be exposed, so her husband can see how low she can go.]
The comments section was even nastier.
People called me an old hag.
Accused me of sexual harassment at work.
Said I was using my money to chase after younger men.
Someone even dug up old photos of me from industry forums, saying I looked so prim and proper but was doing this kind of thing.
I read every comment, my fingers turning cold.
Finally, I set my phone face down on the table and dialed Francis.
The phone rang for a good ten seconds before he picked up.
It was noisy on his end, sounded like he was in a meeting.
"Clarissa, what's up?" Francis said.
I didn't beat around the bush. "That post online. Was it Kyla's doing?"
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Francis lowered his voice. "You saw it?"
"You think I shouldn't have seen it?" I shot back.
"That's not what I meant," he sighed. "I was about to call you about it. Kyla's young and kind of impulsive. She probably just got the wrong idea when she caught you dropping off soup at lunchtime."
I couldn't help but laugh, more out of anger than anything else.
"The wrong idea?" I said, incredulously.
"What did she think she saw? Me trying to hit on you?
"Are all your live streaming people this dense?"
Francis paused for a second, his voice turning gentle.
"Clarissa, don't get upset. Kyla just graduated, and her family's nothing special. It took a lot for her to land this job. Her ex kept bothering her before, so she's been kind of jumpy lately—probably extra touchy about stuff like this. I've already made her delete the post."
"Is deleting the post supposed to fix anything?" I shot back.
"Screenshots have already gone viral.
"She called me an old hag, said I was shameless, and even implied I was having an affair. Francis, that's defamation."
He went silent again.
I knew him inside out.
Whenever he wanted to play peacemaker, he'd always use that same tone.
And just like I expected, here it came.
"Clarissa, the fundraising roadshow this week is crucial. Our relationship isn't public with the new team, and if this turns into a big deal, people will start calling the company a mom-and-pop shop, and that'll tank our valuation."
I gripped my phone, my chest aching with frustration.
Three years of marriage.
For the first time, it really hit me just how cold his words could be.
"So you want me to just suck it up?" I asked.
"Give me 24 hours. I'll handle it," Francis said.
"Handle it how?" I shot back.
"She'll have to apologize in public.
"And she needs to say she was spreading lies about your wife."
This time, Francis avoided my point.
He just said, "Let's not make things official just yet. Once the fundraising is over, I'll pick the right moment to tell everyone."
It finally hit me.
He was still trying to balance things out, weighing whether my reputation or his bottom line mattered more.
I leaned back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, my voice growing colder with every word.
"Francis, you have 24 hours," I said.
"I want a public statement. And a public apology.
"Not a word less."
After hanging up, I barely slept a wink that night.
At 2:17 AM, I got a call from an unknown number.
I picked up. "Melinda."
The caller started with a soft laugh.
"Clarissa, it's me, Kyla," she said.
I stayed silent.
But her voice just kept getting brighter, almost cheerful.
"Don't let all that online drama get to you. I'm young, so I tend to speak my mind. But honestly, what you did wasn't exactly respectable, was it?
"You're married, yet you keep hanging around my boyfriend's office. That's pretty low."
I started recording instantly.
"Your boyfriend?" I asked.
"Yeah," Kyla replied, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Didn't Francis mention it? He's always so nice to me—everyone knows.
"And don't bother trying to get me fired. Francis just talked to me and made me feel better. He said he'd look out for me."
That line left me completely stunned.
She kept talking, her voice still annoyingly cheerful.
"If you're so rich and want to play around with men, go chase after someone else, not someone else's boyfriend.
"Besides, at your age, with a figure like yours, you really don't have much to compete with."
I listened as Kyla threw one nasty jab after another for three minutes, not saying a single word back.
When she finally stopped, I replied, calm as ever, "Are you done?"
She paused, caught off guard.
"Kyla, you'd better be ready to take responsibility for everything you said tonight," I said.
Then I hung up and sent the recording to my lawyer friend, Kenelm Terry.
[Just keep this as evidence for now.] I told him.
Kenelm replied instantly: [Is your husband cheating on you?]
I stared at his message, unable to type a single word for what felt like forever.
Finally, I replied with just one word. [Almost.]