My husband, Geoffrey Terell, takes his childhood friend, Valerie Nash, and his best female friend, Jennifer Gorman, to a business gathering. But he suddenly texts me at 2:00 am, saying that he's suffering from a stomachache and that he wants me to pick him up at the clubhouse.

Driven mad by anxiety, I quickly head toward the clubhouse with some chicken soup. But all I see is Geoffrey with his arms around both women and his eyes closed. He even starts kissing them under the guise of feeding them alcohol with his mouth.

Valerie also has an arm around his shoulders as she shoots me a provocative look.

"Wow, you're quick to come under Geoffrey's orders! You really are an obedient one! It so happens that Geoffrey isn't done with his dare yet.

"How about you get down on your knees and serve us alcohol? Then I'll consider this round Geoffrey's win."

I expect Geoffrey to turn that idea down. But he merely leans against the couch with his arm around Valerie's waist before pointing at the alcohol bottles on the table, as though he's ordering a maid around.

"You hear that? Hurry up and pour us alcohol! Valerie and Jennifer are my queens tonight. I must obey them no matter what.

"Also, you're not allowed to leave if you don't finish pouring the bottles."

I've invested tens of billions of dollars just to make Geoffrey the most prominent CEO in Hallford. At the end of the day, he chooses to play the role of a lapdog for other women, huh?

Since he likes demeaning himself that much, he can forget about keeping his position as the CEO.

I was boiling with rage and about to lash out when Geoffrey started kissing Valerie right in front of me.

The two of them kissed as if they couldn't bear to part.

When they finally pulled apart, Valerie nestled in Geoffrey's arms and looked at me with lingering desire and provocation.

"Are you deaf? Is pouring a drink such an ordeal for you?"

Geoffrey simply held her, straightening his disheveled suit collar.

"Kayla Bennett, don't make me say it twice. Tomorrow is the day Terrell Group goes public and rings the bell. Valerie and Jennifer are coming with me to meet Mr. Anthony Carr, the person in charge at White Hill Capital.

"Can you bear the responsibility if you upset them and it affects their performance tomorrow?"

I looked at the man in front of me and almost wanted to laugh.

My great-grandfather, Russell Bennett, joined the army when he was young. His unit was scattered by the enemy, and when he was on the verge of starving to death, a member of the Terrell family shared half a potato with him. That was the only reason Great-Grandpa made it out alive.

Since then, my family had never forgotten the debt of gratitude we owed to the Terrell family.

When we finally found the Terrell family's descendants, Geoffrey was just the small-time boss of a 20-person company on the verge of bankruptcy due to poor management.

Without any hesitation, I injected capital into the company and single-handedly lifted him from a down-and-out nobody to the most prominent CEO in Hallford.

And to repay that debt of gratitude, I followed Great-Grandpa's dying wish and married Geoffrey for three years.

Yet now, here he was, trampling me underfoot for the sake of two mistresses.

Even though I was seething beneath the surface, I replied in a calm voice, "Geoffrey, I am your wife, not your waitress."

Geoffrey, however, let out a scornful laugh.

"Wife? Have you made any money or solved any problems? You have neither Valerie's way with words nor Jennifer's brains. Apart from cooking and cleaning, what else can you do? If my grandfather hadn't forced me to marry you, do you think I would have ever wanted to be with you?"

He waved his hand impatiently.

"If you don't want to pour the drinks, then get lost and go pay the bill. After that, start the air conditioning in the car and drive the three of us to the presidential suite. What are you standing there for? Get moving—unless you're waiting for a divorce."

The man who was my husband in name only was actually asking me to drive him and other women to a hotel.

Geoffrey seemed to have no idea that three years ago, when Great-Grandpa was on his deathbed, it was his grandfather, Dean Terrell, who knelt before Great-Grandpa, begging me to marry Geoffrey.

Back then, Great-Grandpa knew that Geoffreey wasn't particularly capable. He lay in the hospital bed, mulling it over for three whole days, and only on the brink of death did he finally agree to let me marry down to repay the debt of gratitude and to support Geoffrey for three years.

"If after three years Geoffrey still can't get his act together, then we will have done all we can in good conscience."

I'd originally figured that even if Geoffrey lacked real ability, as long as he knew his place and stayed in line, I wouldn't mind securing him a life of comfort and privilege.

But now the realization dawned on me that one could never polish a turd.

I walked over to the trash can and threw the chicken soup in, container and all.

Geoffrey's eyes widened in fury.

"How dare you destroy things in my presence? Kayla, who exactly do you think you're giving attitude to? Try me—I'll divorce you on the spot and leave you penniless!"

Valerie chimed in from the sidelines, fanning the flames.

"Geoffrey is the one about to rise to fame and fortune, so what are you putting on airs for? Did you really think money could be transmitted through sex?

"Geoffrey, why not send her off to work as a hostess in some bottom-tier club? That'll put a stop to her thinking she can boss you around every day."

"No. Grandpa chose her to be my wife, after all. If I send her away, how am I supposed to answer him?" Geoffrey paused to catch his breath, his eyes dripping with contempt. "I'll write off what just happened as you not knowing any better.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll go home, make me a hangover drink, and wait for me on your knees at the door. I might just forgive your little outburst today and continue letting a freeloader like you hang around."

"That won't be necessary," I replied. "I'm clearly beneath you, so there's no point in troubling you to keep me around just to be an eyesore."

Geoffrey froze for a moment.

"Kayla, what's that supposed to mean? Spare me the passive-aggressive act."

Ignoring him, I turned around and unlatched the door. Then, I strode out.

Once downstairs, I called my assistant, Peter Rowe.

"Get the divorce papers and Terrell Group equity transfer agreement ready and send them to Terrell Tower. And replace the bell-ringer for tomorrow."

Peter paused, taken aback.

"Ms. Bennett, who should I replace them with?"

"I have my own arrangements," I replied and hung up the phone.

Then, I glanced at my watch. There were fewer than 24 hours left until the three-year term was up.

I took a cab to Terrell Tower.

The entire building was pitch black.

Everyone in the company had already gone home. Only Wesley Hanson was still sitting at his desk, fully absorbed, eyes fixed on the screen.

He was so focused that he hadn't even noticed the coffee by his hand had long gone cold.

I remembered him because he was the true technical backbone of Terrell Group and the only person who had actually done any real work over the past three years.

But to keep power from slipping out of his hands, Geoffrey had deliberately kept Wesley under his thumb the whole time.

All the dirty, grueling work fell on Wesley's shoulders, yet all the credit went to Geoffrey.

Geoffrey had even gone so far as to withhold Wesley's year-end bonus from the previous year just to pressure him into signing a non-compete agreement, effectively trying to box him in and lock him down in that role.

Before, since the company belonged to Geoffrey, it wasn't my place to interfere. The best I could do was find roundabout ways to slip Wesley some extra money on the side.

But now…

"Ms. Bennett, what brings you here?"

Seeing me, Wesley set down his pen and rose to his feet, looking somewhat startled.

"The bug's almost fixed. Please just don't tell Mr. Terrell or dock my pay. My mom is still in the hospital."

The ones doing the real work walked on thin ice, while the ones putting on a show basked in boundless glory. Why should those who work hard be trampled upon?

I pulled over a chair and, after sitting down, placed the documents on the desk.

"You don't have to fix the bug anymore."

Wesley froze. "What?"

"You designed Terrell Group's system architecture and wrote the underlying code—not to mention Geoffrey's so-called smart algorithm is actually your patent, isn't it?"

Wesley fell silent for a moment, his back straight and rigid.

"How much does he pay you?" I asked.

"Fifteen thousand dollars," Wesley replied in a low but steady voice. "But Mr. Terrell said he would give me stock options—"

"Nothing but empty promises," I said with a cold laugh. "Geoffrey has already prepared your termination letter. As soon as the bell-ringing ceremony is over tomorrow, he plans to fire you on the grounds of leaking technical secrets, and you won't see a cent of severance."

Wesley furrowed his brows deeply.

"That's impossible! I've given ten years of my life to this company."

"Nothing's impossible. In his eyes, you're just a useful tool. And once a tool has served its purpose, it's only natural to toss it away."

I pointed to the documents on the table.

"Take a look at this."

Wesley reached for the papers, and after just one glance, his entire body went rigid.

"Equity transfer agreement? The transferee… Wesley Hanson?"

He looked at me, eyes wide with shock.

"Ms. Bennett, what is the meaning of this? How is it that you hold equity in Terrell Group?"

I leaned back in my chair and looked at Wesley calmly.

"Geoffrey sits in that position because I allowed him to. Now that I'm no longer allowing it, that seat is yours. Managing people is easy, whereas true technical talent is rare.

"Terrell Group can run just fine without Geoffrey, but without you, it'll be nothing more than a pile of scrap metal by tomorrow. Sign this, and you'll be the one sitting in the main seat at tomorrow's bell-ringing ceremony.

"Why should those parasites who've been feeding off your blood get to live so well?"

Wesley was gripping the fountain pen so hard that his fingers turned slightly pale.

"Can I really do this? Mr. Terrell always says I only understand the technical side, that I'm not fit for the spotlight. I—"

"If I say you can, then you can," I interjected.

Wesley took a deep breath, and his gaze gradually grew resolute and sharp.

"Thank you, Ms. Bennett. I'll sign the agreement."

He was no fool.

After all these years at the company, he could of course see that it wasn't that good-for-nothing Geoffrey who was holding the place up. What he hadn't expected, though, was that the one truly behind it all was me, the woman who had all along been mocked as a gold-digger.

"Great." I gathered up the documents. "A stylist will pick you up tomorrow. Remember—as of tomorrow, you're the CEO of Terrell Group, so hold your head high."

At noon the next day, Geoffrey woke from his hangover, his head splitting with pain.

Out of habit, he shouted, "Water!"

But no one answered.

His hangover had his head pounding like a drum. He cracked open his eyes in irritation, only to find no hangover cure nor a suit laid out beside the bed.

His temper flared even hotter.

"Kayla, are you dead or something?"

Geoffrey stormed out of the bedroom barefoot, and it was only upon seeing the unfamiliar surroundings that he remembered he had stayed at a hotel last night with Valerie and Jennifer. In other words, he wasn't at home.

Thus, he immediately grabbed his phone to call me. After all, I was always at his beck and call. But the call went unanswered. He called again—still no answer.

"That useless woman! I must've gone too easy on her for her to treat me like this!" Geoffrey said, slamming his phone down onto the couch.

Just then, Valerie and Jennifer emerged from the room.

"What's wrong, Geoffrey? What's got you all worked up so early in the morning?"

"That useless woman has disappeared. She didn't prepare breakfast or arrange the car for us!" Geoffrey replied through gritted teeth.

Valerie let out a derisive laugh and sauntered over, wrapping her arms around him.

"She's just trying to get your attention by playing hard to get."

Jennifer sidled up to him as well.

"Exactly. Geoffrey, have you checked Instagram? I just saw someone post that they spotted someone who looked like Kayla buying a multi-million-dollar watch at the Patek Philippe boutique."

Geoffrey was taken aback. "She bought a watch?"

"Yeah, think about it—what could she possibly do without you? She obviously bought the watch as a peace offering for you. But after we riled her up last night, she's probably wrestling with her pride right now."

Geoffrey's expression immediately softened at this, and a smug smile even crept across his lips.

"Glad she's come to her senses," he said with a scoff. "What did I tell you? Without me, she can't even put food on the table. There's no way she'd actually have the guts to leave me."

He picked up his phone and typed, "Seeing as you've bought the watch to make amends, I'll let what happened last night slide. I'll give the watch to Mr. Carr later, so you'd better box it up nicely and get back here to drive us to the ceremony. Don't you dare make me late."

He pressed send, but the message to me showed only one gray tick.