Opening the company group chat, I found it had already exploded. Messages tagging me had blown past ninety-nine notifications.

"Betty, maybe you're misunderstanding? Ronald and Christina are just colleagues."

"Exactly—Christina's just a young girl, fresh out of college. Don't scare her like that."

"Betty, Ronald has always been so good to you. How could you publicly humiliate him?"

A wave of nausea hit me as I scrolled through the twisted, sycophantic comments. Half of these people were ones I’d personally hired and mentored from the ground up; now, to curry favor with the boss and his new flame, they were turning their knives on me without a second thought.

I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened Ronald’s social media feed.

Beneath that glaring post, the comments section had become a stage for loyalty pledges.

"Ronald and Christina are such a perfect match! A true power couple!"

"Christina is so lucky to have a boss like Ronald looking out for her."

Underneath, Christina had left a uniform reply, complete with a bashful emoji: "Thank you, everyone! But Ronald and I really are just colleagues. He’s always treated me like a big brother, that’s all."

The cloying sweetness of her performance practically seeped through the screen.

I let out a cold laugh, then compiled everything for my lawyer: the post, my receipt for the pajamas, the original design drafts, and close-ups of the embroidered initials. Every detail.

Then, calmly, I typed my final message into the company chat:

"To everyone: effective today, I am resigning from all my positions at Oceanview Translations. Thank you for the six years. Our paths diverge here. Wishing you all the best on yours."

I sent it, then exited every work group, silenced my phone, and tossed it aside.

Finally. Peace.

When I returned to the office the next day to resign, the atmosphere felt palpably strange.

My once-deferential subordinates now avoided my eyes, their glances mingling pity with a trace of schadenfreude.

The HR manager—someone I’d personally promoted—wore an awkward expression. "Director Betty… I mean, Betty, about your resignation… Mr. Ronald said he can’t approve it."

I raised an eyebrow. "On what grounds?"

"He says the Klaus Group project from Germany has always been your responsibility. With the delegation arriving next week, abandoning it now would be… unprofessional."

I almost laughed.

The Klaus Group deal was the biggest our company had ever landed, over a year in the making. From the initial translations to the technical liaisons, I’d carried it almost single-handedly.

Now Ronald was using it to trap me, counting on my sense of responsibility—betting I couldn’t watch a year of work go to waste.

He still thought he could manipulate me.

"Tell Ronald," I said, my voice measured and cold, "that under labor law, my resignation takes effect thirty days after I submit it in writing. His approval is irrelevant. As for the Klaus project, all the handover documents are on the shared drive. Whoever takes over can figure it out. If no one can handle it, that’s a leadership failure."

With that, I turned and left, ignoring the collective gasp behind me.

I had just reached the elevators when Ronald and Christina stepped out of the executive car.

Ronald stood there in a tailored suit, looking arrogant. Christina clung to his arm, the picture of delicate dependence. When she saw me, a flicker of triumph flashed in her eyes before she adopted a timid tone. "D-Director Betty…"

Ronald’s gaze swept over me, a condescending appraisal. "Betty. Finished with your little tantrum? Come back to work, and I’ll pretend none of this happened."

His tone dripped with superiority.

"Mr. Ronald," I smiled, a smile utterly devoid of warmth. "You’re mistaken. There’s nothing left to discuss. I’m here to resign."

His face darkened. "You’d throw away six years—our relationship, our business—over a social media post? When did you become so unreasonable?"

"Six years?" I let out a humorless laugh. "Search your conscience, Ronald. How did you treat me all that time? When we were starting the company, I gave you my parents’ wedding gift money as seed capital. To land your clients, I drank until I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer."

"You pulled all-nighters, and I was right beside you—making your coffee, organizing your files. Now the company’s stable and you’re successful. Suddenly your faithful old wife is an eyesore. Is that it?"

My voice was not loud, but it carried clearly across the entire office floor.

Every ear was straining, every head pretending to work while watching the drama unfold.

Ronald’s face went ashen, then flooded with angry color. Clearly, he hadn’t expected me to spill it all in public.

“You’re out of your mind!” he snarled, humiliation fanning his rage.

Beside him, Christina instantly slid into the role of the “understanding” one, tugging his sleeve with red-rimmed eyes. “Mr Ronald, please don’t be angry. This is all my fault… Betty, don’t blame him. I never should have posted that…”

As she spoke, she dabbed at her tears—that delicate, fragile look designed to trigger any man’s protective instinct.

True to form, Ronald pulled her into his arms and glared at me with pure fury. “Betty, look at yourself! You’re acting like a harpy! Christina is younger than you, more understanding, more gentle! What part of you even compares to her?”

That did it—the final straw, crushing the last shred of illusion I’d been clinging to.

Looking at the two of them, I was suddenly washed over by a wave of disgust.

“You’re right. I don’t compare.” I nodded, my smile widening. “I’m not as good at pretending, not as good at acting, and certainly not as… cheap. So, I’ll let you have each other.”

From my bag, I pulled the prepared documents and flung them in Ronald’s face.

“Listen carefully. Ronald & Betty’s Translation Firm had a registered capital of one million. I contributed seven hundred thousand—that’s seventy percent of the shares. Under our prenuptial agreement, those shares are my personal property. Now I’m withdrawing my investment. Either you buy out my shares at market value, or the company goes into liquidation.”

“As for the Klaus Group project… I forgot to mention, the chief interpreter for the German delegation was my university mentor. I’ve already emailed him, explained my departure, and ‘kindly’ reminded him that the firm’s core technical staff has… left.”

Watching the color drain from Ronald’s face, I felt a wave of vindictive satisfaction.

“You… you wouldn’t dare!” he stammered, a trembling finger pointed my way.

“Just watch,” I said coldly, then turned and stepped into the elevator.

The doors slid shut, cutting off his furious curses and Christina’s panicked cries.

Leaning against the cold metal wall, I let out a long, slow breath.

Ronald, did you really think Betty was some pushover you could trample all over?

You were wrong.

I can build you up—and I can tear you down.

After leaving the office, I drove straight to the Civil Affairs Bureau and picked up the divorce certificate I’d been longing for.

The marriage of mutual torment was finally over.

What kind of face would he make if he saw this now?

I expected the withdrawal of funds to turn into a drawn-out battle. But Ronald’s parents showed up in Fairview the very next day.

I’d just finished packing, ready to head to Seaport where my best friend Donna lived, when Ronald’s call came through, his voice urgent. “Betty, my parents are here. At the house. You need to come back—now.”