At the company's Christmas Eve party, someone spiked my Shirley Temple with whiskey.

The problem was, I had just taken metronidazole.

The doctors fought tooth and nail to pull me back from the brink of death.

However, my husband, Cole, chose to protect the culprit—the intern he was having an affair with.

"Let's just let this go. Claire, can't you be the bigger person and forgive her? She didn't do it on purpose."

I had no intention of letting it go.

But Cole cut me off with a frown. "That's enough! She just graduated. Do you have to blow this out of proportion? Will you only be satisfied once you've ruined her life?"

Watching my husband shield her, my heart shattered, piece by piece.

"Then you two deserve each other."

————————

1

"What's that supposed to mean? Claire, can't you stop being so petty?"

I had just pulled through, and Cole was already wasting no time blaming me.

"As the CEO, what's wrong with caring for my subordinate? Why do you insist on making this into something it’s not?"

"You ruined our Christmas Eve party!"

My words seemed to strike a nerve, and Cole raised his voice defensively.

I sneered. "Oh? You're certainly devoted to taking care of her. More than you care about your own wife. When I collapsed at the party, you were the first one to shrink away, weren't you?"

My words made him freeze. His voice softened, a poor attempt to mask his fury.

"Claire, I know you're upset. I'll punish Chloe for what she did and make it up to you. But calling the police is absolutely unnecessary. She just graduated…"

"How do you plan to punish her?" Having just cheated death, I felt as if I was seeing things clearly for the first time. I rubbed my temples and cut him off.

After a brief silence, Cole muttered, "I'll dock her pay for three days."

"I almost died, and you're docking her pay for three days?" A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips.

"Enough! She didn't do it on purpose. She just graduated, Claire. She has no money, rent to pay, bills piling up... This is a harsh punishment for her! How is she supposed to make ends meet?"

Cole's face was a thundercloud. All he wanted was for me to drop it, but I had no interest in wasting another word on him. I took out my phone, ready to call the police.

"She just graduated? As long as she's an adult, she's responsible for her actions."

Just as I was about to dial, Cole snatched my phone away. "Do you have to ruin someone's future?" he snarled. "She's just a kid, what does she know?"

"Let the police figure it out. She knew exactly what she was doing."

I frowned, reaching for my phone.

The tension in the room crackled.

Neither of us was willing to back down.

Knock, knock, knock.

Just then, a soft knock came from the door. It swung open, and Chloe stood there, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

Tears welled in her eyes, and her shoulders trembled as she crept into the room.

When her gaze met mine, she lowered her head. "I'm so, so sorry, Claire. This is all my fault. I'm truly sorry."

"Chloe, come, sit down."

The moment Cole saw Chloe, he rushed to her side, guiding her to a chair.

He took the bouquet from her and patted her shoulder. "You shouldn't have. Claire's fine. Why are you crying? Don't be scared."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Harrison, for causing you so much trouble."

As the words left her mouth, her eyes reddened. She looked like a lost, terrified child, and Cole's expression softened into one of pure sympathy.

As her eyes swam with tears, she glanced up at me. A flash of triumph flickered in her gaze.

I scowled, about to tell her to drop the act, but in the next second, she sank to her knees by my bedside.

"I'm sorry, Claire," she cried. "I didn't know you'd taken metronidazole. I just swapped your drink for an alcoholic one to liven things up. I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"Chloe, what are you doing? Get up!"

Cole was stunned. He lunged forward, trying to pull her up from the floor.

When he turned and saw the icy resolve on my face, he roared, "You still don't believe her? Claire, how did I never see how heartless you are?"

"Forgive her. Now. Stop being so difficult! Get up, Chloe. I don't want to see you like this."

Chloe remained kneeling, her face a mess of tears, silently begging for my forgiveness. A sharp pain lanced through my head, and I couldn't bear to watch another second of her pathetic performance.

Seeing I was unmoved, Cole stalked over to my bed. "Claire, you're being impossible!"

The sharp crack of his hand against my cheek echoed in the silent room. A searing pain flared across my right cheek.

In that one moment, any lingering hope I had for us shattered into dust.

Cole and I met in college. We fell in love while studying architectural design at one of the top schools in the country.

Most students in our department were from prominent families, their futures already paved in gold. But Cole was different.

He had gotten in on pure merit, determined to build a future from scratch.

His fierce ambition was what drew me to him. It felt inevitable that we would end up together.

I was the one who pursued him, and I learned so much just by being by his side.

My family never approved of Cole.

In fact, as graduation loomed, they had already arranged a marriage for me, assuming I was just having a college fling and would eventually fall in line.

But I was young and rebellious. Looking back, that youthful recklessness seems almost laughable.

I cut ties with my family and chose Cole.

We were married for three years, together for five. In those three years, with my support, Cole's career took off.

He had once protected me as fiercely as he was now protecting Chloe.

I remember him shielding me from clients who tried to ply me with alcohol or made lewd remarks, telling them off in front of everyone without a second thought.

Afterward, he would stay up all night just to take care of me. I truly believed Cole was the man I would spend my life with.

Our life got better, but the love between us slowly withered.

Ever since Chloe joined the firm as an intern, Cole’s attitude toward me had become cold and distant.

I’d heard he personally requested her transfer to his team.

From then on, it was constant late nights at the office and business trips, always with Chloe in tow.

He said it was to "develop her potential." I had my own ideas about what kind of "potential" he was developing.

Soon enough, rumors began to swirl around the office that Cole was giving his new assistant "special treatment."

The memories shattered as a second slap landed squarely on my other cheek.

I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his. He gritted his teeth, spitting the words out one by one.

"Claire, accept Chloe's apology right now, or else."

"Mr. Harrison, stop hitting her! Please, don't fight because of me!"

Seeing the situation escalate, Chloe finally intervened, but only after he’d already struck me. Then, her expression hardening with resolve, she stood up.

"Claire, if you won't forgive me, I'll go turn myself in. I'm willing to spend the rest of my life making up for my mistake!"

Before we could react, she bolted from the hospital room.

"Chloe! What are you doing? Don't do anything stupid!"

Cole scrambled after her in a panic, but not before turning to leave me with one last threat.

"If anything happens to her, Claire, I will never forgive you!"

The door slammed shut, and the room fell blessedly silent. I let out a long, shuddering breath, feeling a bone-deep exhaustion settle over me.

Chloe wouldn't turn herself in. This was all a performance designed to drive a wedge between Cole and me.

Only a man as blinded by lust as Cole would fall for such an obvious ploy.

Sure enough, a short while later, a notification popped up on my phone. Cole had posted on Instagram. The photo was a scenic shot from just outside the hospital, captioned: "I'll always protect you."

He hadn't bothered to hide it, posting it for the world to see.

Of course, he never came back to check on me. Why would he? My life was no longer in danger, so I was no longer his problem.

I sneered, unfazed by his pathetic attempt at provocation.

After having my stomach pumped, I had no appetite and no desire to spend another minute in that hospital. I cleared my discharge with the doctor for the next morning.

When I’d gathered my things and returned to our penthouse apartment in Manhattan, I found Cole was already there.

"You're back?"

Cole was on the sofa. The moment he saw me, his smile vanished, and his warmth was replaced by a cool indifference. He didn't even ask how I was.

He obviously hadn't expected me home so soon. He might have been in a good mood before I walked in, but now his expression had darkened.

It was pathetic that this was what our marriage had become—an empty facade.

"Yeah," I replied, my tone just as frigid. As I spoke, I noticed the tense line of his shoulders, the way he sat rigidly on the sofa.

I frowned. A moment later, I heard it: the sound of the shower running in the master bathroom.

Someone else was here.

"Who's in the shower?"

I already knew the answer, but a tiny, foolish part of me held on to a sliver of hope.

Cole's expression immediately soured as he fumbled for an explanation.

"It's Chloe. Her heat's been out for a week, so I brought her over to take a hot shower after work. Don't overthink it. It's just the heating."

"I see. I'm not."

My calm reaction seemed to throw him.

He scanned my face, searching for a flicker of anger, but when he found none, he let out a visible sigh of relief.

"Good. You've come to your senses. It's rare for you not to throw a fit."

Throw a fit? Is that what he called it when I reacted to his betrayals?

I didn't answer. I strode straight into the bedroom, pulled a suitcase from the closet, and began silently packing. Cole never once looked my way.

As I packed, I was struck by how few things were truly mine. I’m not a materialistic person, but the realization still stung.

I left behind everything he had ever given me, every shared object that held a memory. I didn't want any of it. I didn't want the memories, either.

When I finished and walked out of the bedroom, Cole was drying Chloe's hair with a Dyson. She was wearing my custom-made silk bathrobe. He was kneeling on the floor in front of the sofa, his fingers gently working through her hair as they laughed together. They looked like a picture-perfect couple.

I felt like an intruder in my own home.

Cole's back was to me, the whine of the hairdryer masking my footsteps. He didn't notice me, but Chloe did.

The moment she saw me, her head tilted up. A triumphant smirk played on her lips.

Her triumphant smirk said it all: She had won.

My face remained a blank mask. I wasn't playing her game. I just stood there, watching the tender, patient way he cared for her.

That tenderness... I couldn't remember the last time he'd shown it to me.

So, his explosive temper at home wasn't from work stress. He was just saving all his gentleness for someone else.

The hairdryer clicked off. When Cole turned and saw me standing there, he froze.

He scrambled to explain.

"I was just helping her dry her hair. I don't want her catching a cold and missing work."

"I know," I said, my tone flat. "You don't have to explain."

My detached response gave Chloe the opening she wanted. With a timid pout, she began.

"Claire, I feel like I'm not very welcome here… Maybe I should go."

She made a show of getting up, and Cole immediately rushed to stop her.

"You just showered. You'll catch your death if you go out now."

"I never said you weren't welcome," I cut in. "I'm the one who's out of place. You two stay. I'll go."

I strode back into the bedroom, grabbed my suitcase, and headed for the door.

Cole saw the suitcase, and his face fell.

He moved to stand in front of me, blocking my way.

"Claire, what are you doing? I was wondering why you were so quiet when you got home. What is this, some new kind of act?"

A dry, humorless chuckle escaped my lips. I couldn't be bothered to imagine what kind of monster he thought I was, all thanks to her manipulations.

I met Cole's gaze, my own empty of all emotion.

"It's no act, Cole. Check your email. I'm sending you the divorce papers."