The new assistant was suffering from cramps. My aloof, aristocratic husband made her a special ginger-honey tea, and I immediately asked for a divorce. “Over a cup of tea?” Arthur Trainor looked at me, incredulous. “Yes.” “Fine,” he sneered, his jaw tight. “Just don’t come crying back to me.” Arthur and I were each other’s first love. We got together in high school; he was my entire world, the landscape of my youth. So he was certain I could never leave him. But the truth was, the tea was just the final straw. The evidence of his fading love was hidden in every corner of our lives. He saw me as a clinging vine, dependent on his support. He had no idea I was the mighty oak that had been shielding him from the storm all along. 1 “You want to divorce me over a cup of ginger-honey tea?” Arthur looked up from behind his massive mahogany desk, his dark brows arching in disbelief. “Is that really necessary?” I gave a firm nod. “Let’s just do it.” He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms over his chest. A smirk played on his lips. “This has to be the ninety-ninth time you’ve brought this up.” I froze. Had I really given him that many chances? The smirk widened. “Ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf? After a while, the threats lose their power. Just admit it, Sloane. You can’t live without me.” Just then, a soft knock came from the door and Chloe, his assistant, walked in. A man’s business jacket was draped over her arm. I recognized it instantly as Arthur’s. In the years we’d been married, I’d chosen everything for him—his suits, his ties, his cufflinks, his watches. I even picked out his socks and underwear. I knew his wardrobe better than he did. “Mr. Trainor, I came to return your jacket. Thank you… for yesterday.” “Don’t mention it,” Arthur said coolly. He glanced at me, then turned his attention back to her. “Feeling better?” In the past, hearing him show such concern for another woman would have sent a spike of jealousy through me. I would have demanded to know if he had a thing for the new girl. But after so many times, he was tired of my questions, and I was tired of asking them. So I simply turned to leave, giving them the privacy to continue their little moment of office tenderness. But I didn't expect Chloe to call out to me. “Mrs. Trainor, please don’t misunderstand! Nothing happened. Mr. Trainor just lent me his jacket yesterday because… I got my period and it stained my skirt. He was just being kind.” I couldn’t help it. I spun back around to face her. “Which one of your ears heard me accuse him of cheating? Is this how you stir up trouble between your boss and his wife?” I took a step closer. “And another thing. My mother didn't give me a sister. My name is Sloane.” Chloe flinched, her eyes widening as if my sharp tone had physically struck her. They immediately welled with tears, turning her into the very picture of a startled rabbit. “Sloane!” Arthur shot up from his chair. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to Chloe, his voice lashing out at me. “How old are you? Why are you picking on a girl half your age? Does it make you feel powerful, bullying someone fresh out of college?” Chloe kept her head down, fat tears splashing onto the handkerchief as she sobbed. “Mr. Trainor, please don't be angry. It was my fault, I said the wrong thing. I’ll apologize to Mrs. Trainor.” She turned to me and bowed deeply. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Trainor.” Arthur pulled her upright, his gaze turning icy as he fixed it on me. “That’s enough, Sloane. How many times have I told you not to come in here acting like you own the place?” 2 Out of the corner of my eye, in a place Arthur couldn’t see, Chloe’s lips curved into a triumphant little smirk. A bitter laugh almost escaped me. This assistant, who had been at the company for a mere three months, had so completely stolen the trust of the man I’d been married to for five years. I looked up at Arthur’s handsome, refined face. “Are you deaf? I just asked her to use my name. She’s the one insisting on calling me ‘Mrs. Trainor.’ What does that have to do with me?” Without waiting for an answer, I turned and stormed out, slamming the office door behind me. Back home, I immediately called my lawyer and asked him to draft the divorce papers. While I waited, a message popped up from my best friend, Olivia. It was a screenshot of Chloe’s latest social media post. Olivia had been a secretarial major, and after graduating, I’d helped her get a job at Trainor Industries. Now she was the lead executive administrator—Chloe’s direct supervisor. Chloe’s post read: “That time of the month has me feeling so down, but someone special made me this amazing turmeric-collagen latte to cheer me up! So warm and comforting. It feels so good to be taken care of!” The picture was of a man’s hand holding out a steaming mug to her. On that hand was a wedding band. Our wedding band. There was no mistaking whose hand it was. Just then, my phone buzzed with a new text from Arthur. “The housekeeper said you have the sniffles. Take some aspirin and drink plenty of fluids.” A artisanal latte for another woman’s cramps, and a clinical “drink plenty of fluids” for me. I gripped my phone, staring at the empty chat window as a profound coldness settled deep in my bones. From eighteen to twenty-eight, I had come to know Arthur Trainor inside and out. He was not a meddler. He would never go out of his way for a new assistant without a reason. This was real. He had feelings for her. It would be a lie to say it didn’t hurt. The helplessness of watching the man you love fall for someone else, right before your eyes, was tearing me apart. That night, my sleep was fitful and haunted. When I woke up, my pillow was damp, and my eyes were swollen shut. I splashed cold water on my face, put on a pair of dark sunglasses, and drove to the nursing home. I pushed my father’s wheelchair out onto the lawn. For the first time, we had a truly honest conversation. The old man sat there, smoking, glancing at me from time to time. “What’s with the sunglasses? Did that Trainor kid hit you?” I shook my head and cut straight to the point. “I’m divorcing Arthur.” My dad chuckled like I’d told him a joke, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. “When’s it happening? Need me to call some guys to help you move your stuff?” I shook my head again and pulled a bank card from my pocket, pressing it into his hand. “Take this. I might not be able to visit for a while.” The weight of the card in his hand seemed to finally convince him I was serious. He stared at me, dumbfounded, and it wasn’t until I was already walking away that he called out, his voice laced with confusion. “Wait, you’re really doing it? Where are you gonna find someone better than him?” 3 He was right. Everyone thought Arthur was the ultimate catch, the best I could ever hope for. He had the education, the family background, the looks. But they had all forgotten. They forgot that I, too, had graduated from a top university with a degree in a highly competitive field. They forgot that I was the one they called a prodigy, the “genius girl of the AI world” who had skipped three grades. While I was still a sophomore in college, I had already filed for multiple AI patents. Before I even graduated, I had founded Nexus AI, one of the country’s leading tech firms, with a few of my seniors and juniors. I still held sixty percent of the company’s shares. You don’t marry into a dynasty like the Trainors with a gambling, half-paralyzed father and a sweet, naive persona. On the drive home, Olivia called. “High school reunion tonight. You coming?” We had all gone to the same local high school, and our old clique made a point to get together every year. Since I was leaving, it felt right to say a proper goodbye. I agreed to go. At 8:30 PM, I arrived at The Monarch Club and found my way to Suite 603. The usual teasing started immediately. Where was Arthur? Why hadn't he come with me? Someone chimed in, “Arthur Trainor is a busy man. Has he ever shown up to one of these things?” Suddenly, a woman in the corner snorted. “Who says he’s not here? I just saw him in the suite next door, running interference for some young girl, blocking drinks for her.” Her eyes, sharp and malicious, found mine. “Sloane, is your husband cheating on you? Are you finally losing your crown?” I recognized her immediately. Jenna. The perpetual second-best who had lived in my shadow all through high school. She’d confessed her feelings to Arthur once, right before he and I got together. He chose me, and she’d held a grudge ever since, convinced I had stolen him from her. This was the moment she had been waiting for. The others jumped to my defense. “No way. Arthur loves Sloane. Every man in the world could cheat, but not him.” “I don’t believe it either. Do you remember the grand gestures he made to win her over? When Sloane had that car accident, he cried his eyes out.” “And when his parents cut him off for dating her, he worked at a burger joint for a month just to buy her a birthday present.” They recounted all the ways Arthur had once shown his love for me, forcing a painful montage of memories to flash before my eyes. They refused to believe Jenna, pushing her until she slammed her hands on the table and stood up. “If you don’t believe me, come with me to the suite next door and see for yourselves!” “Fine, we will! We’re not scared of you!” “Come on, Sloane, let’s go shut her up!” Someone grabbed my arm, trying to pull me along. But I couldn’t move. Because I knew. I knew that what Jenna was saying was entirely possible. Olivia was about to intervene, to smooth things over, but Jenna saw my hesitation and crossed her arms, her voice dripping with scorn. “What’s the matter, Sloane? Scared?” “I always said that women like you, who have to fight and claw for everything, would lose it all one day. You were always destined to end up as nothing.” As she spoke, the door to our suite swung open. 4 Standing in the doorway was Arthur. And right behind him was his little assistant, Chloe. “Heard you guys were next door. Just wanted to stop by and say hello,” Arthur announced smoothly. “Have fun tonight, honey. The bill for this room is on me.” I glanced at Olivia, who gave her phone a little shake, silently telling me she’d texted him to come and save the day. My classmates erupted in cheers. “See? And some people were saying Sloane got dumped. Open your eyes. They’re as happy as ever.” Jenna’s face was red, but she couldn't say a word. But then, Chloe tugged gently on Arthur’s sleeve. “Mr. Trainor, are these all your high school friends? I’d love to meet them.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur draped his arm around Chloe’s shoulders and began introducing her to every single person in the room. The atmosphere in the suite instantly froze. It felt like I had been slapped across the face. I stood there, rooted to the spot, utterly humiliated. Jenna, who had been silenced just moments before, leaned in close, her voice a triumphant whisper in my ear. “I’ve never seen a boss so obedient to his assistant. Introducing his old friends to her, right in front of his wife. Looks like someone’s about to steal your title, Mrs. Trainor.” I couldn't stand another second of it. I turned to leave. But Chloe’s eyes welled with tears as she turned to Arthur. “Is she angry with me? I just wanted to get to know your friends. I didn't mean any harm…” The next second, Arthur’s voice cut through the silence. “Sloane, don’t throw a tantrum.” I stopped, but I didn’t turn back. Seeing her chance, Chloe grabbed a bottle of tequila from the table, poured a shot, and walked over to me. “Please don’t be angry, Mrs. Trainor. If I did something wrong, I’ll take this as punishment, okay?” She tilted her head back and downed the shot in one go, then grabbed my hand. “There. It’s done. Can you stay now? If you leave, people will think I’m Mr. Trainor’s mistress. Even if you don’t care about me, you should at least think of his reputation.” I yanked my hand away. But as I did, Chloe stumbled backward as if I’d shoved her with all my might. She crashed into the dining cart behind her, sending plates and glasses shattering to the floor. Soup and wine splattered against the wall. She fell into the mess, her palm landing directly on a shard of broken porcelain. Blood welled up instantly. “Ah!” Arthur’s eyes flashed. Forgetting we were in a room full of people, he rushed to her side, pulling out his handkerchief to wrap her bleeding hand. He turned on me, his voice sharp with fury. “Sloane, when did you become so vicious? I’ve spoiled you, that’s the problem. It’s time you learned a lesson.” He pulled out his phone and dialed his most trusted executive assistant. “Freeze all of my wife’s bank cards. Now. Yes, every single one. Don’t leave her a dime.” From the other end, a respectful “Yes, sir,” could be heard. Just then, the club manager and a waiter entered, taking in the scene of destruction. The manager presented a bill. “The suite rental, plus damages, comes to a total of twenty-eight thousand dollars. Who will be settling the bill?” A cruel smile touched Arthur’s lips as he pointed a finger at me. “She made the mess. She can pay for it.”
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