"Elliot!"

"Is this the kind of manners you were raised with?!"

The man clung to Paula, tears streaming down his face like a wounded victim.

"Paula and I are truly in love!"

"She stopped loving you a long time ago!"

"Elliot!"

"She doesn't love you!"

I watched as Chloe hit the floor, still screaming: "I'll beat you both to death—you shameless cheater and your pathetic side piece!"

Chloe scrambled to her feet, ready to tear into them again, but suddenly I felt... nothing. The rage drained out of me, replaced by something cold and hollow. I stepped in front of her, pulling her behind me, and met Paula's wary gaze.

"Apologize to my friend."

Paula stared at me in disbelief.

"Paula." I'd expected the pain to be suffocating—but watching someone else fight for me, seeing Chloe's righteous fury on my behalf, something shifted. I became calm. "Apologize. To my friend."

"You've lost your mind!"

The words barely left her mouth.

I swung my briefcase into the side of her head. In the same motion, I grabbed a fistful of the man's hair and slammed his face into the corner of the table.

"Paula."

My voice was steady.

"I won't let this go."

Then I turned and walked out, Chloe at my side.

She'd only been at the company six months. I'd trained her myself from day one.

Now she sat in the passenger seat, face tight with worry. I kept my eyes on my phone, scrolling through the messages Paula had already fired off.

[Elliot! You went way too far today!]

[Do you have any idea—someone filmed your little scene at the restaurant and posted it online! If this spreads, how is Rupert supposed to show his face?!]

[You need to post something and clear this up RIGHT NOW. Do that, and I'll pretend none of this happened!]

[Elliot, don't forget—your parents are retired! Your whole family depends on ME now! I'm not the same person I used to be!]

A new friend request popped up.

The man Paula was so desperate to protect.

Rupert Vance.

He sent videos. Photos. A stream of messages.

[Elliot, Paula stopped loving you ages ago! She only stayed out of obligation!]

[Since we're all tearing off the masks anyway—]

[No point hiding anymore! So what if public opinion drags me through the mud? Fortune favors the bold!]

[The more people attack me, the more your wife loves me! I've already won—believe it or not!]

I opened the video he'd sent.

Paula, on a phone call, already moving assets. Her voice was crisp, businesslike.

"Separate everything Elliot and I own jointly. All my overseas accounts—transfer them to Rupert's name. Make it seamless. Elliot doesn't tolerate betrayal. I need to prepare for the worst."

"Understood."

"If Elliot can accept this—if he apologizes and agrees to let Rupert stay—then fine. He's still my husband."

"But if he refuses to fall in line..."

"I can make sure Elliot ends up with nothing."

I stared at her face on the screen—the same face I'd woken up next to for years—and felt ice spread through my chest. The woman I'd shared a bed with hadn't panicked when I caught her cheating. Hadn't apologized.

No.

Her first instinct was to demand I clear her lover's name.

Her second was to insist I accept him—and keep my mouth shut about it.

I laughed. The sound surprised me.

But she was right about one thing.

I don't tolerate betrayal.

So when my lawyer friend sent over Rupert's background file—and I forwarded the videos and photos—his call came through almost immediately. He was laughing so hard he could barely speak.

"Did Paula seriously pick this idiot?"

"We don't even need to dig for evidence—he's hand-delivering it to us!"

His laughter echoed through the speaker.

"Those videos alone are enough to bury Paula. As for your joint assets—"

"One more thing," my attorney asked. "When your parents backed her startup—did they get that in writing?"

They did.

Paula had insisted on a formal IOU. She'd made me film the whole thing, said she wanted my family to have peace of mind. My parents tried to refuse, told her it wasn't necessary.

She wouldn't budge.

"Elliot," she'd said, her voice soft but firm. "I don't want anyone thinking I'm taking advantage of your family. Keep this safe. It's your protection."

Now.

I stared at that same IOU in my hands, the USB drive with the video beside it, listening to my attorney explain.

"With these documents alone—"

"There's more."

I cut him off and pulled out the company registration papers. Back when Paula founded the business, some fortune teller told her my birth chart was more auspicious—better for attracting wealth. So she put everything under my name. The company. Every piece of real estate we owned together.

I laid it all on the table.

"This is enough to make Paula come crawling."

My attorney studied the documents. I met his eyes.

"I don't just want her left with nothing. I want her reputation destroyed."

I returned from the law firm to the home Paula and I had shared for three years.

At the entryway, a vase of roses sat waiting—the ones Paula had prepared for me. They'd wilted beyond recognition now, petals curled and brown. A card rested against the vase.

Wishing my husband happiness forever.

In the corner, she'd drawn a little smiley face.

Paula used to leave me fresh flowers every single day. Five years. Never missed once.

Now.

I watched her walk through the door carrying a new bouquet, her expression perfectly serene as her eyes met mine.

"Elliot."

She acted like nothing had happened. Set the fresh flowers down, plucked the dead roses from the vase, and tossed them in the trash.

"We're husband and wife. Those other men are just... entertainment."

"You should understand that." She moved closer. "Can we please stop fighting?"

The perfume clinging to her wasn't mine.

That cloying sweetness turned my stomach. I stepped back instinctively, and before I knew it, my palm had connected with her face. I threw the divorce papers at her feet.

"Paula."

"Adultery during marriage. Fraudulent transfer of marital assets. Every dollar you spent on Rupert." I watched her expression freeze. "You have two choices."

"Sign the papers. Walk away with some dignity."

She snatched up the agreement, staring at me in disbelief.

"Or fight me in court." I held her stunned gaze. "Less dignified, but the outcome's the same—you leave with nothing."

Paula tore the papers in half. Then again. A cold laugh escaped her throat.

"Elliot!"

"You're dreaming!"

"Leave with nothing?"

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

She flung the shredded pages into the air. Fragments of paper drifted down around us like snow, settling on the floor.

I watched her face darken to fury as she advanced on me, each word sharp as a blade.

"Elliot!"

"If you think I'm walking away empty-handed—"

"That will never happen!"

She opened her mouth to say more, but her phone erupted with notifications. Irritation flashed across her face as she glanced at the screen, jabbed the answer button, and snapped into the receiver.

"What?"

Then.

I watched the color drain from her face, inch by inch, until she was chalk-white. Her eyes found mine, wide with disbelief.