"Sweetheart, are you upset with me? I've been swamped with work lately, and I haven't had much time for us. With Thanksgiving coming up, how about we plan a little getaway?" Weston leaned on my back like a lazy cat, his hold unyielding as he rambled on.

"During my last business trip, a client mentioned a spa resort," he continued. "There's even a Ferris wheel there—supposed to be quite the spectacle. How about a little adventure to relive our youthful days?"

His suggestion sent a chill through me, bringing back those recent messages I'd seen, weighing heavily on my heart. My eyes filled with tears, and I stomped on Weston's foot, pushing him away with clenched teeth.

"I'm not going. If you want to go, go by yourself!"

Weston stumbled back, glaring at me with anger. "What's gotten into you? Is it morning madness again? If you're not feeling well, maybe you should take some medicine. Such bad luck."

He turned and picked up his phone, muttering under his breath as he headed toward the bed. "Women going through menopause are such a pain."

I knew this wasn't the right moment for a direct confrontation. But the faint red marks on his shoulder were like mocking, clawing demons, mocking my downfall.

A thread inside me snapped. I grabbed a bottle of lotion from the table and threw it at Weston.

"Is it because I'm aging, because I don't look the same anymore? After ten years together, is this how you justify what you've done? You jerk!"

I lifted my shirt, pointing at the bruises on my abdomen from the fertility treatments, and demanded, "For years, I've sacrificed for you, for us. Do you have any idea what I've endured? How can you do this to me?"

Weston's expression shifted uncomfortably as he rubbed the back of his head. But then he glanced at my no-longer-youthful stomach, and a flicker of disdain crossed his eyes before he sneered.

"You're the one who's betrayed me," he retorted.

"Was it my idea for you to prepare for pregnancy?"

"When we were younger, you insisted on focusing on your career instead of having kids. Did I ever object? You waited too long, and now you blame me?"

"If you weren't so stubborn, so selfish, our child would already be in school by now. You've ignored your duties as a woman, and if I weren't so forgiving, who would want a woman who can't even have kids?"

I stared at Weston in disbelief, but all I found was disdain where there was once love. I laughed bitterly, realizing that in his eyes, I had become insignificant. Five years of sacrifice were nothing but a joke, and a wave of resentment and injustice surged within me. I lunged at him in anger.

"Weston, how dare you treat me like this!"

In the next instant, he shoved me to the floor with force, pointing at me threateningly. "You're out of control! If you keep this up, don't blame me for being harsh!"

Clutching my stomach, I lay on the floor in a heap, unsure if the pain was from the fall or my aching heart. Tears blurred my vision as Weston said something, but my head grew heavier and heavier.

Before I completely lost consciousness, I saw Weston rushing toward me in a panic.

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself lying on a hospital bed, with an IV drip in my arm. The nurse at the door noticed I was awake and quickly came over to check on me. Weston rushed in right behind her, his face filled with worry.

“Nurse, my wife is usually in good health. What could have caused her to faint so suddenly?” he asked.

The nurse, busy with her notes, replied, "The patient's emotional stress led to gastric spasms. For now, let's finish the IV and see how it goes. I’d recommend a full examination."

I touched my abdomen gently and managed a faint smile. “Thank you, I understand.”

After the nurse left, Weston knelt beside the bed, guilt written all over his face. He gave himself a hard slap.

“I'm so sorry, honey. It's my fault, all my fault. I was a fool this morning, drunk and out of my mind. I nearly had a heart attack when you fainted.”

His actions attracted curious glances from those nearby, but he ignored them. He reached into an insulated bag, pulling out a few containers filled with my favorite foods, like spiced honey cake and pulled pork sandwiches. He even brought fresh clothes for me.

He used to take care of everything for me, ensuring I had a stress-free life. Having witnessed his former love, his betrayal now felt utterly unforgivable.

I looked at him calmly, without uttering a word.

“Your health is what matters most,” he began, “Later, I'll arrange for you to…”

His phone rang, cutting him off. As he pulled it from his pocket, I glimpsed the name, Veronica Walker. The next second, Weston stood up, body tense, and walked a few steps away, turning his back to me.

“Yeah, I get it. Don't worry, I'll be there soon,” he said, a small smile unintentionally forming at the corner of his mouth.

Once he ended the call, he returned with a slight furrow in his brow. Before he could speak, I interjected, “If there's something at the office, you should go. I’ll manage.”

He glanced at me, noting my calm demeanor and seeming indifference to the morning’s incident. He tucked the blanket around me and, before leaving, asked the nurse to keep a close eye on me.

He appeared courteous and caring, prompting praise from others in the room about what a great husband I had. I lowered my head, not responding, while inwardly scoffing.

After the IV drip finished, feeling relatively okay, I politely refused the nurse’s suggestion for a comprehensive checkup. She looked at me disapprovingly, insistently advising, “Ma'am, take some time to get checked. It's for your own and your family's benefit. Your husband also urged you to look after your health. Gastric spasms are not trivial; early detection and treatment are key if other issues are causing it.”

I gave a small smile and calmly replied, “Thank you for your concern, but I know the cause. Just yesterday, I underwent a procedure and haven’t fully recovered. I was emotional this morning because I found out my husband has been unfaithful for over a year.”

“You’re right, health is paramount. I won’t let myself fall apart over him anymore. I’ll come back for proper recovery when it's time.”

The nurse widened her eyes in shock, rooted to her spot, speechless.

Ignoring the surrounding stares, I headed home.

My phone showed numerous missed calls, all from Cody.

I dialed Cody's number, and he answered almost immediately:

"Ella, what's going on? It's time, and you're nowhere to be seen, and you won't pick up your phone!"

His voice was impatient.

I put the call on speaker and continued to do my makeup in front of the mirror. This afternoon, the company was hosting its annual Thanksgiving event. I might not need a man, but I was determined to reclaim the company.

After letting Cody vent for a while, I stated plainly:

"Two things. First, Weston cheated on me, and I'm filing for divorce."

"Second, find a reason to cancel his order plans for next year. I'm taking back the company."

Cody and I are twins, but our parents divorced when we were young. Cody went abroad with our dad, so while we kept in touch, we couldn't see each other often.

I took my mother's last name, but she soon remarried. Being the stepdaughter made my already strong character even more resilient.

I stopped talking about my original family. Even after marrying Weston, I never mentioned Cody.

In the early days of our startup, I worked tirelessly day and night. I wanted to prove myself, and through hard work, I landed a major contract that not only helped our company survive rough patches but also propelled us forward.

It was by chance that I later discovered it was Cody’s department that managed the company awarding us this contract.

But to me, I earned it through my own efforts; there was no need to explain all the details to Weston.

Little did I know this would someday become my leverage against him.

The line was silent for a while, but I knew it was Cody’s quiet anger. He always felt guilty toward me and ensured our company received plenty of orders each year.

Concerned he might dwell on it too much, I softened my tone and said:

"Brother, please find me a good lawyer. I want Weston to leave empty-handed."

"As for everything else, let me handle it. If I can't manage, then you can step in, alright?"

Cody’s reply came after a moment of heavy reflection:

"Understood. I’ll send you the details later."

Having gathered everything, I drove to the office building.

There were many new faces at the company, and none of the familiar old employees were around.

Suppressing my doubts, I headed straight for the office next to Weston’s.

A woman with long hair suddenly blocked my way with an arrogant air, looking me over as she asked:

"Are you looking for Veronica? She's out with Mr. Bryant. If you have business, you'll need to book an appointment with her in advance."

I raised an eyebrow and pointed toward what used to be my office, asking:

"So where's Ella Bryant's office now?"

The woman let out a dismissive laugh:

"That old woman isn't here anymore, so why should she hog an office? Mr. Bryant isn't around, so I'm calling the shots in the office now."