After work, I went back to our sprawling mansion.

I had bought this place entirely with the hard-earned commissions I made from entertaining clients and working myself to the bone selling properties.

The down payment alone had wiped out three full years of my savings, and the mortgage ran over 20,000 dollars a month.

Back when we were still in our hometown, Ryan used to envy people who owned houses like this.

I remembered that, and I made it happen.

But standing here in this empty living room, all I felt was a chill.

I took a shower and was heading out to grab a bite to eat. While putting on my shoes at the entryway, I noticed a bottle of gastro medication sitting on top of the shoe rack.

Ryan had a terrible stomach. Whenever he drank, it flared up so badly he would break out in a cold sweat. He never went anywhere without these pills.

He must've been in such a rush to leave today that he forgot them.

I stared at the bottle, my hand hovering in mid-air.

When we first started in the industry, he began drinking with clients every single day. I had told him not to push himself so hard, but he refused to listen, insisting he could handle it.

One night, he downed over half a pint of hard liquor and threw up the second he came home.

Then, the stomach pains hit. Ryan was drenched in sweat from the pain and curled up on the couch.

That night, I crouched outside the emergency room, unable to stop crying.

After debating with myself, I finally picked up the bottle of medicine, hailed a taxi, and headed toward the restaurant where his reunion was being held.

I didn't plan on crashing the party. My plan was simply to drop the pills off at the front desk and text him to come down and pick them up.

But as I walked past a partially open private room, the roaring laughter echoing from inside made me freeze in my tracks.

"Hey, isn't your Millie getting promoted again? She's making two million a year now. That's incredible!"

"Oh, please. It's nothing compared to your wife. She got her master's degree abroad and is currently employed at a state-owned enterprise."

It was Ryan's old classmates, aggressively sizing each other up.

Standing out in the hallway listening to them, I found the whole display completely meaningless.

Suddenly, someone turned the conversation toward Ryan, their tone dripping with subtle mockery.

"Ryan, what happened to that wife of yours? You know, the one who dropped out of school to work for you? Why isn't she here tonight?"

The corners of my mouth tugged into a smile outside the door.

Ryan had dragged me to one of his reunions once, and I had overheard two people talking in the restroom.

"Why on earth would Ryan marry a woman like that? She barely finished high school. What does he even see in her?"

I hadn't told Ryan back then because I didn't want him to be stuck in an awkward position.

This time, I assumed Ryan would brush it off like he usually did, or at least attempt to smooth things over for me.

Instead, a brief silence stretched through the room before his voice drifted out, light and completely unbothered.

"Don't bring her up. We divorced ages ago. We move in completely different social circles. We couldn't make it work."

Those words felt like a slap to my face.

Divorced ages ago? When on earth had we gotten a divorce?

Just this morning, he was calling me his wife, but by nightfall, I was someone he had "divorced ages ago."

"Oh, my God. You got divorced? Then who are you with now?"

His classmates gasped, their voices instantly alive with curiosity.

"Let me introduce her."

Ryan's voice rang out again, laced with a hint of pride. "This is Lucinda Brooks. She holds a master's degree from an international university, and she is… my new wife."

The room erupted.

"Wow! You sure are sneaky, Ryan!"

"I knew it. I was wondering why you brought such a stunning woman tonight. Turns out you traded up a long time ago!"

Just then, Lucindia spoke in fluent Iridian. She said something to the server, apparently ordering a replacement bottle of red wine.

The server responded with absolute deference.

I looked through the crack in the door.

Lucinda was leaning her head casually against Ryan's shoulder, and Ryan was looking down at her with a tender smile plastered across his face.

All of a sudden, I felt like the past six years of my life had been an utter joke.

I genuinely believed that all the hardship and suffering I endured had been worth it.

I honestly thought he was different from the rest of them, that he would never look down on my education, and that he would never care about my background.

But they were all the same.

He was just a lot better at playing the part and managed to keep the mask on a little bit longer.

I walked to the end of the hallway and threw the bottle of medication into the trash.

Ryan didn't come home for the rest of the night.

I tried calling him three times, but nobody picked up, and I was terrified he might have had an accident while drunk.

We had been together for six years, and despite the resentment, some part of me still cared.

I grabbed my car keys and drove back to the restaurant, only to find that the party had already split up.

I flagged down a server and asked her where the man in the black shirt from that private room had gone.

She thought about it for a second. "Oh, he was drunk. His girlfriend had to help him out of here."

"His girlfriend?"

"Yeah, the pretty one in the dress," the server said, wiping down a table. "She was supporting him, and he leaned down to kiss her before they headed to the underground parking lot. He couldn't even walk straight, so she was completely holding him up."

That couldn't have been anyone else but Lucinda.

"Thanks," I said, turning around and walking out of the restaurant.

The night air was freezing, cutting across my face like a knife.

I got into my car and sat there for a while, the stereo blasting all of his favorite songs.

It suddenly hit me that the last time he and I had actually shared a ride in this car was over two weeks ago.

Maybe he had stopped being my Ryan a long time ago.

…

The next morning, the office was a lot livelier than usual.

"Hey, did you see that? Lucinda rolled up in Mr. Whitaker's car. They came up from the parking lot together, and she was even carrying his coat!"

"Oh, my goodness. Is Lucinda sleeping her way to the top? No wonder she made manager in less than six months."

"He literally handed her Hannah's multi-million dollar deal yesterday after Hannah spent a month chasing it down. Could he be any more obvious?"

"Where does that leave Hannah then? Has she fallen out of favor?"

A female coworker dropped her voice to a whisper. "But honestly, even if Hannah doesn't have a fancy degree, she has way more of a presence than Lucinda."

"Right? Hannah is a top performer. Is Mr. Whitaker blind?"

I heard every word.

To my coworkers, Ryan and I were nothing more than a boss and his subordinate.

Because the company's hiring policy required a bachelor's degree minimum, Ryan had forced me to keep our relationship secret from the start. It was to mask my high school education and to protect his image as a director.

Of course, people weren't completely blind, and the rumors flew anyway.

Everyone whispered behind my back, constantly questioning if I was sleeping with Ryan for promotions.

Some said I was gorgeous, some said I was highly capable, and some guessed we were messing around, but not a single soul ever guessed that I was actually his legal wife.

In the past, for the sake of Ryan and his reputation, I had walked on eggshells at the company, watching my boundaries when texting male clients and refusing to ever grab a solo lunch with male coworkers.

Looking back now, I reckon he never cared one bit.

Just then, Ryan's assistant, Robert Ashwick, walked over and tapped on my desk. "Hannah, Mr. Whitaker wants to see you in his office."

I hit enter to save my document, stood up, and walked over.

Pushing the office door open, I found Ryan lounging in his chair, sipping coffee and looking rather refreshed.

He set his mug down and cut straight to the chase. "I need you to hand over a few of your Tier A clients to Lucinda so she can get some practice. Make sure you show her the ropes."

Ryan wanted me to hand over the Tier A clients that I spent years meticulously maintaining, just so a woman who literally stole my listing could get some practice?

I didn't say a word as my gaze slid over to Ryan's neck.

As he leaned forward to grab a folder, his collar parted slightly, revealing a deep purplish hickey right on his tan skin.

It was glaringly obvious.

I thought I felt total indifference toward him, but catching sight of that thing still made my stomach turn.

"Why aren't you saying anything?"

Sensing my glare, Ryan instinctively touched his neck and yanked his collar higher.

A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes, but his tone remained incredibly defensive.

"This is a strategic reassignment. Don't start bringing your personal baggage into this again. You already threw a tantrum over that contract last time. Are you planning on throwing another one today?"

I didn't want to hold back anymore. "Where were you last night?"

Ryan froze, his expression shifting rapidly before he quickly recovered his composure.

"I had way too much to drink, so I stayed at a hotel and picked up Lucinda along the way this morning."

He paused, then continued, "We're at work. Why are you asking me this?"

"Along the way?"

I let out a sharp laugh. "Did staying at a hotel just happen to land you in the same bed? Did she put that hickey on your neck as well?"

His face flushed red, and he shot to his feet.

"Hannah, what the hell are you talking about? We were entertaining clients last night! Can you not project your own filthy thoughts onto us?

"You're just jealous because she took over your listing! Your lack of a degree makes you so insecure and hyper-sensitive that you're literally trying to slander me!"

Watching him get flustered and furious made me feel strangely satisfied. He knew his cover was completely blown, so his only defense mechanism was to scream over me.

He had pulled this exact stunt countless times already.

Whenever he was in the wrong, he would launch a preemptive strike to dump all the blame onto my lap. He would claim I was petty, insecure, and that I didn't understand him.

In the past, I would always back down.

But now, I refused to give him an inch.

I unclipped the employee ID badge I had worn for the past six years. The picture on the badge was taken when I first started.

I looked so incredibly young back then, with actual light inside my eyes.

With a sharp smack, I slapped the badge onto his desk.

"Ryan, I want a divorce."

The entire office fell silent.

Ryan's eyes widened in shock, his lips trembling as he stared at me.

"Are you serious about divorcing me? Over a couple of clients? Have you even thought about the consequences?"

"I've never been more serious in my life," I said, enunciating every word. "You think having a wife with nothing but a high school diploma is embarrassing, right?

"You even told your classmates last night that we divorced ages ago and that Lucinda is your wife. Since you like her so much, I'll get out of your way."