Chapter 1
After seven years together, my wife, Sarah Young, told me she wanted a divorce. She said she wanted to make it official with someone else.
I agreed.
The next day, we went to the courthouse. The whole process went smoother than picking up a package.
She never came home again after that. But her social media feed was flooded with updates.
All her posts were photos of her and her new guy.
All I did was leave twenty-three work groups and make nine calls.
And that was it.
But her company, well, that was a whole different story.
*****
The day Sarah asked for a divorce was a Thursday.
I remember it clearly because takeout was half off that day, and I'd just ordered a pizza.
She was sitting across from me on the couch, all dolled up.
Putting on a full face of makeup at 9:30 PM, that was crazy.
When she spoke, her voice was steady, like she was reciting lines she'd rehearsed a hundred times.
"Lucas, let's get a divorce."
I paused with my food halfway to my mouth.
"I want to make it official with him." Her eyes sparkled as she said it.
I'd seen that spark before.
She used to look at me just like that, seven years ago.
I swallowed the food and wiped my mouth.
"Okay," I said.
She froze for a second.
She didn't expect me to agree so easily.
"You aren't even going to ask who it is?" she asked.
I closed the takeout box and leaned back in my chair. "It doesn't matter anymore."
She opened her mouth, then closed it, and stood up.
Her heels clicked against the floor, quick and sharp.
As the door clicked shut behind her, I heard a man's voice in the hallway.
"All set?"
"Yeah, went smoother than I thought." It was Sarah's voice, and I could practically hear the smile—light, relaxed, almost cheerful.
I glanced at my phone.
9:47 PM.
Seven years, wiped out in just three minutes.
I didn't smash anything, didn't drink, didn't even lose a wink of sleep.
I just sat there on the couch and finished my takeout.
Then I opened my laptop and started organizing a file.
A file she never even knew existed.
*****
The next morning, we met at the courthouse.
She was wearing a white dress, her hair curled, and her nails done in a fresh manicure.
Nobody got all dressed up for something that felt like an execution.
It only made sense for a new beginning.
We were the only ones at the counter.
The clerk asked, "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
I nodded, "Yeah, I'm sure."
She echoed, "Yes."
She didn't look at me the whole time.
We signed the papers, and the clerk stamped them.
Just like that, our marriage certificate became a divorce certificate.
When we walked out of the courthouse, the sun was shining brightly.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, and then a black Porsche pulled up at the entrance.
The window rolled down, and a man in sunglasses waved at her.
He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with a sharp jawline and a cocky grin.
"Babe, get in," he said to her.
Sarah glanced back at me.
There was a hint of guilt in her eyes, but honestly, she looked like she couldn't wait to leave.
"Lucas, I'm sorry. But there's nothing between us anymore—you must've felt it too," she said to me.
I nodded. "Just be happy."
She got in the car.
The Porsche sped off.
I stood there for three seconds.
Then I pulled out my phone and called my assistant, Nathaniel Reed.
"Nathaniel, let everyone know—we're terminating all our contracts with Young & Co."
There was a brief silence on the other end.
"All of them?"
"All of them."
"What's the timeline?"
"Just stick to the penalty clause in the contract. No need to rush—let her have a week to get used to it."
"Got it."
After hanging up, I opened WhatsApp.
Twenty-three work groups—all of them were for Sarah's company.
Supply chain, tech support, distribution, and advertising.
I left them one by one.
The notifications popped up one after another, like dominoes falling.
[Lucas has left the group chat.]
[Lucas has left the group chat.]
[Lucas has left the group chat.]
By the time I got to the fifteenth group, my phone started buzzing.
It was Michael Lane, Sarah's company's VP, calling me.
I didn't pick up.
By the time I left the eighteenth group, Michael called three times in a row.
When I finished leaving the twenty-first group, Helen Young, my ex-mother-in-law, called.
I didn't pick up.
After leaving the twenty-third group, I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
Finally, I could breathe easy.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and took a deep breath.
The smell of coffee and pastries drifted over from the breakfast stand by the curb.
I walked over.
"Hey, a cup of coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, please."
*****
Sarah probably didn't realize something was wrong until that afternoon.
My phone started blowing up around 2 PM.
Every call was from someone at her company.
From the CTO, the COO, the supply chain manager—even the receptionist. It felt like everyone in Young & Co. was trying to reach me.
They must've gone through their entire contact list to find people who could reach me.
I didn't pick up a single one.
At 8 PM, Sarah finally called me herself.
I picked up.
"Are you crazy, Lucas?" she shouted.
Sarah's voice was dripping with rage.
"What is it?" I asked.
"You left all the work groups? You told Nathaniel to terminate our contracts? Do you realize we've got three projects due next week?"
I leaned back on the couch, getting comfortable.
"Sarah, we're divorced," I replied.
"What does our divorce have to do with work?"
"Everything."
I kept my voice calm.
"My team built your company's entire tech system. Your supply chain relies on my contacts. Your ads run on my platform. Even the servers in your office are under my company's name," I said.
The line went completely silent.
"Back when we were married, I never kept score. But that's not the case anymore," I added.
Silence.
The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating.
Sarah's voice trembled, "You did this on purpose?"
"It wasn't on purpose," I said. "It's just damage control."
"Lucas, don't push me."
"I'm not pushing you. The contract spells it out in black and white—you can handle the penalty. I'm giving you a week to find new suppliers. That's me being decent."
Sarah took a few deep breaths on the other end. "You'll regret this."
She hung up on me.
I stared at my phone as the screen went black and couldn't help but chuckle.
No, I wouldn't.
For seven years, I poured everything I had—my resources, my connections, my whole tech team—into her company.
She really thought it was all her own talent.
She even believed that after I left, nothing would change—that everything would just keep going like before.
So naive.
*****
The next day, Sarah updated her social media.
It was a photo of her and her new man at some fancy restaurant.
The caption read, [New life, new beginnings.]
Over a hundred likes and more than twenty comments, all just congratulating her, like she'd won the lottery.
I tossed my phone aside and went back to my files.
Nathaniel messaged. [Mr. Grant, the tech lead at Young & Co. just asked if we can renew their backend system contract—it expires next Monday.]
Me: [Not happening.]
Nathaniel: [He said he'd even pay 30% more.]
Me: [Nope.]
Nathaniel: [Got it.]
Five minutes later, Nathaniel messaged again.
[Mr. Grant, Young & Co.'s supply chain had two lines cut off today. Their procurement director is asking if we can help out.]
Me: [Just follow the process.]
Nathaniel: [Got it.]
I turned off my phone.
A cool breeze drifted in from the balcony.
Suddenly, I remembered seven years ago.
Back then, Sarah's company was just getting off the ground. She'd sit in our tiny apartment, staring at her computer, looking totally stressed out.
I put every penny of my first big payout—200 thousand dollars I made coding in college—into her company.
She cried and said, "Lucas, meeting you is the luckiest thing that's ever happened to me."
Looking back now, it's almost laughable.
But whatever.
In the end, everything would pay back one way or another.