After three days of my radio silence—three days without a single expense request—my husband, Julian, the CEO of the Sterling-Hale Group, finally called.

"Darling, I've already approved the next round of expenses for your hand treatment. There, you see? As long as you learn to behave, I'm more than willing to give you anything."

His deep, magnetic voice poured through the receiver, as if he were soothing a pet he had finally tamed.

"I know artistic types like you are sensitive. You aren't used to the rules that come with this life. I'm only doing this for you, to help you adapt. For our family's reputation."

His tone was as indulgent as ever, a flawless imitation of a doting husband, frantic with worry.

But he didn't know that as his name—"Darling"—flashed on my screen, my lawyer was already finalizing the divorce papers.

When I left, all I took was the old, faded cashmere sweater I’d been wearing during the accident.

No one would have believed that the enviable Mrs. Sterling, the talk of New York's high society, couldn't even scrape together five decent performance gowns in the three years since our wedding of the century.

Every personal expense had to be approved by the family trust—a power that, as the lady of the house, should have been mine all along.

"Thea, managing finances is exhausting. It would dirty your beautiful hands."

"Let Ava handle the tedious work of approvals. Your only job is to be my perfect, stunning wife."

And so, the authority over the trust became something I had to beg for from Ava, the chief of staff who was, in name, "handling trivial matters" for me.

Three days ago, the most critical window for my hand nerve treatment arrived. I cried and begged him to approve five hundred thousand dollars to secure an emergency treatment slot at the Swiss clinic.

But Ava deliberately blocked the approval, citing "non-compliant risk control review procedures."

In the end, my career as a concert pianist was given its death sentence. A part of my soul died with it.

I had endured his indifference and humiliation for three years, staying because I had once truly loved him and because I believed his vast fortune was the only thing that could heal my hand.

But now, both of those pillars had crumbled. My hand was ruined.

And I was done with him. Utterly and completely.

————————

1

As I emerged from the examination room, the attending doctor's dispassionate words echoed in my ears.

"You've missed the optimal treatment window. The nerve damage in your hand is permanent. There's no need for you to come back."

A chilling silence filled me, and my heart plunged into an abyss.

When I arrived at Julian's penthouse office, he was engrossed in signing documents with Ava.

When I brought up divorce, he didn't even bother to look up, just scoffed lightly.

"Throwing another tantrum? Still upset I didn't take you to the charity gala last week?"

"Thea, don't make jokes like that. It's not funny."

I lowered my gaze, suppressing the hollow ache in my chest, and said firmly, "Julian, I'm not joking. I want a divorce."

Julian finally looked up at me.

He rounded the enormous mahogany desk and moved toward me, reaching for my hand. I flinched away.

His hand froze in mid-air. A flash of displeasure crossed his features, but it vanished as quickly as it came.

"I know you're unhappy about the treatment being paused. That was only to help you break your dependency on experimental drugs. I was thinking of your health."

"Ava was just following my orders. How could you embarrass her in front of the board?"

"I authorized an unlimited line of credit on your black card yesterday. Darling, my time is precious. I have an entire company to run, so don't make me waste it soothing your feelings."

Before I could answer, he glanced at the Patek Philippe on his wrist. "I have a meeting. I'll bring you your favorite jewelry tonight. Be a good girl and wait for me at home."

He was so sure I couldn't leave him, certain that a few crumbs of affection would have me bowing my head in gratitude.

After all, in the past, even when he left me alone in the car during a downpour to pick up Ava from the airport, all it took was him saying, "She's my most important business partner," for me to wipe away my own tears.

But now, I no longer needed those cold diamonds.

Whether the treatment resumed or not no longer mattered.

If, three days ago, Julian had bothered to check my urgent email in the middle of his damn multinational conference, I might still be that fool living in a dream.

Back then, I had pleaded with him, begged him not to end the video call, to just listen to what I had to say.

But my frantic pleas were no match for Ava's delicate, cloying voice in the background.

"Julian, did Mrs. Sterling misunderstand me? I only reminded her that the amount was quite large, and I didn't feel comfortable approving it without an official document from the clinic."

"If she is truly in a hurry, I'd be willing to push it through, even if it violates regulations, but I'm afraid the group's risk control department will investigate, and that might affect your reputation, Julian…"

"That's why I was a bit stricter with the approval—to help her develop good habits that align with the standards of the Sterling-Hale Group."

Hearing this, Julian was completely won over, forgetting my desperation entirely.

"You see, Thea? Ava is so considerate. She's always thinking of me."

"Can't you learn from her? Stop being so impulsive and unruly."

"Listen to Ava. Get the financial procedures in order first."

It was always like this whenever I needed him.

"I'm inspecting the European division. If you need anything, find Ava."

"Follow Ava's arrangements."

"Just do whatever Ava tells you to do."

I was his wife, the nominal lady of this business empire, yet I lived without a shred of dignity.

Forget normal socializing; even for galas I had to attend as Mrs. Sterling, or ribbon-cutting ceremonies where I was his prop, I had to apply to his chief of staff for gowns and jewelry.

And every time, Ava would dismiss my requests with a sweet smile and a casual wave of her hand.

"Ma'am, this gown isn't the CEO's preferred style, and this sapphire necklace is beneath your status. Please rewrite the application."

"Oh, Ma'am, you applied too late. The haute couture pieces have all been claimed. How about you wear this one from last season? Besides, you're a natural beauty. The CEO won't mind."

"Ma'am, why are you always like this? Look at this list. Didn't I tell you to confirm everything was in order before bringing it to me for approval?"

She would always drag things out until the last possible second, leaving me to stand awkwardly beside a radiant Julian in an ill-fitting, outdated dress.

And Julian would wrap his arm around my waist and whisper, "Thea, why are you wearing this again? I don't mind you being frugal, but don't embarrass the Sterling family."

"You can't even handle something this simple. You still need Ava to hold your hand. When are you going to grow up?"

And the only reason I couldn't handle such a "simple matter" was entirely thanks to Julian's "good chief of staff."

But he never saw it. Or maybe… he just didn't care.

Just as he knew my hand couldn't wait, that the treatment couldn't be delayed.

Yet he still told me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to just go find Ava.

Getting treatment funds from Ava was harder than wrestling a bonus out of a Wall Street shark.

"What kind of nerve repair treatment costs half a million dollars in one go? Ma'am, are you sure you're not just making up an excuse to ask for pocket money?"

"Five hundred thousand dollars is no small sum. Ma'am, could you provide a detailed treatment plan and expert endorsement before I can approve this? For now, I have to reject it."

I explained that it was an urgent stem cell transplant window, that a detailed plan could only be made after a successful surgery.

Ava tapped her chin with her perfectly French-manicured fingers, feigning realization. "Oh, I see. I went straight into investment banking after graduation. I'm in perfect health, so I'm not very familiar with this kind of thing."

"However, the group's financial approval process is extremely strict, and situations like this are ripe for exploitation. How about this, ma'am? Have the chief physician in Switzerland issue a certificate of emergency treatment, and I'll approve it for you."

Her expression hardened. "Then again, experts can be bought. I'm not doubting you, ma'am. I just have a responsibility to protect the CEO's reputation."

"How about you also attach the group's overseas medical insurance policy as proof?"

And so, Ava stalled and stalled, until the critical treatment window for my hand slammed shut.

By the time I finally received the notification that the transfer was successful, even the most brilliant neurosurgeon in Switzerland could only shake his head in regret.

In that moment, venomous hatred and soul-crushing pain warred within me.

I knew it was over.

A suffocating weight pressed on my chest. After one last, searing pain, my hand completely lost its fine motor skills.

This marriage was no longer a sacred, life-saving contract. It was a cage.

Once I knew what I had to do, a strange sense of relief washed over me. The power Julian had held over me for years abruptly vanished.

So, when I saw Ava's provocative post on Instagram, I felt nothing.

The photo showed Julian, hands on hers, teaching her how to play pool in the company's rooftop bar.

I calmly took a screenshot and then casually liked the post.

When it came to Ava, Julian's messages were always immediate.

"Thea, why did you like that post? It was just a way to unwind after work. Don't read into it."

"You know you're the only one in my heart. Ava is my most capable assistant; she's like family to me."

He immediately sent another:

"You've already liked it, and unliking it now would just look petty. You know how people on Wall Street talk."

"Be good. Go leave a comment praising Ava. This is your chance to show the grace of a Sterling and help me maintain my image. You've always been the sensible one, right?"

I hadn't planned on responding.

But the bitterness was too much to swallow.

So I did as Julian said.

"Chief of Staff Ava is indeed the best 'family.' Not only does she help the CEO with his work, but she also shares his private life. Wielding Mrs. Sterling's trust approval authority, taking care of my husband... she's so dedicated. It must be exhausting."

"Every penny you save for the CEO now will be your own when you take my place. Then you won't have to live like me, a pauper who has to beg for funding."

After replying, I tossed my phone aside.

Then I began to calmly pack my things.

My phone buzzed violently on the table. It was a voice call from Julian.

Because I had blocked his number, he couldn't reach me directly and had resorted to blowing up my social media.

I pressed play, and his panicked voice crackled through. "Thea! What nonsense are you spouting? Has your account been hacked?"

"Darling, stop it. Delete it, and let's talk this out…"

I turned off the phone and threw it on the sofa.

The world was finally quiet.

Packing didn't take long.

After all, in this penthouse apartment, every valuable item belonging to Mrs. Sterling was locked away in a vault protected by a complex security protocol.

For all these years, I had been an unwelcome tenant in a house that was never truly mine.

Even my scent was just a faint, temporary layer.

For the first time, everything was crystal clear.

Julian returned with the speed of a CEO who’d been defied; when he cared, the distance across Manhattan was nothing.

He didn't rush back out of concern. For a man with his pathological need for control, a wife intentionally severing all contact was an intolerable act of defiance.

He didn't even glance at the pitifully small suitcase at my feet.

He strode over, carrying the faint scent of Ava's perfume.

"Thea, darling," his thumb brushed against my chin. "Why did you suddenly stop answering my calls? I couldn't reach you, and it made me very agitated."

I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "I wanted to be alone."

Julian's hand was left hanging. He froze for a second, then smoothly wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Still angry about that photo?"

"Thea, you know Ava is just my chief of staff, an important team member who has worked hard for the group. As the CEO, I have the freedom to unwind with my subordinates."

"Those old geezers on the board are already biased against you because of your background," he sighed, his warm breath grazing my neck. "Don't get jealous over something so small. It makes you seem very insecure, hmm?"

Hearing this, my stomach churned, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

For all these years, this was how Julian controlled me: with a blade dipped in honey.

He would watch me swallow it and expect me to be grateful.

"Insecure?" I took a step back, breaking free from his embrace. "Our CEO must be a very busy man indeed. So busy he hasn't noticed his chief of staff playing the lady of the house all over New York."

The smile on Julian's face froze. "Thea, when did you become so sensitive?"

"It's not easy for an ambitious young woman like Ava to make it on Wall Street. You're my wife; you should be more understanding of her instead of listening to rumors. The last time you threw a fit at the board meeting over the approval authority, Ava cried all night and was still defending you."

He looked at me with reproach, as if I were the ungrateful sinner.

"I provide you with the best of everything, isn't it so you can be carefree? If you keep targeting Ava like this, I'll be very disappointed in you."

"Besides, your hand is so fragile. Intense emotional swings aren't good for your recovery."

"Thea, listen to me. You don't need to overthink things. Just follow Ava's arrangements and focus on your recovery."

I finally laughed out loud.

But there was no mirth in it, only ice.

Right in front of him, I yanked open the zipper of the suitcase at my feet.

"Carefree? The best of everything?"

"Julian, is this the love you give me?"

The suitcase gaped open, utterly empty.

There were only a few faded, shapeless old clothes inside.

The same clothes I had brought with me three years ago, when I first agreed to be his wife.

"I'm leaving, and I can't even find five decent outfits to wear out the door."

"In this so-called golden cage, I have to fill out an application just to get a haircut. Buying a new shade of lipstick depends on the mood of your precious chief of staff. Even the maids in this house have more cash on hand each month than this Mrs. Sterling of yours!"

Julian frowned. "Thea, don't exaggerate…"

I ignored him, grabbing the sleeve of his expensive custom suit and dragging him to the closed door of the vault.

I pointed to the flashing red light on the electronic lock.

"Go on, my devoted husband. You tell me how to open this."

"You need a password, a fingerprint, and then a remote authorization from our hardworking Ava!"

"What cherished wife has to live like a beggar, kneeling at the feet of her husband's subordinate to plead for every little thing!"

Julian stared at the electronic lock, his face a mask of confusion.

He turned his head, looking at me in disbelief. "Because of this?"

"Darling, you're making this huge scene, even threatening to leave, just because it's inconvenient to get money? Or… are you just jealous that Ava has so much power?"

Hearing those words, my heart turned to ice.

All my anger, all my grievances, were nothing more to him than a petty, materialistic wife throwing an unreasonable tantrum.

I let go of his sleeve and took a step back, the last flicker of hope dying in my eyes. "Forget it, Julian. What you think no longer matters."

"Let's get a divorce."