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."