Divorce Trap for Deceiver

The crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow across the ballroom as I smoothed down my black Valentino dress—a strategic choice for tonight's celebration. Not too flashy to overshadow Benjamin, but elegant enough to command respect as the co-founder's wife. Seven years of love, sacrifice, and unwavering support had led to this moment: Howard Innovations' IPO launch party.

I'd spent an extra hour getting ready, wanting everything to be perfect. My mother's diamond earrings—the only pieces I'd kept after selling her jewelry to fund Benjamin's startup—glinted at my lobes. A subtle reminder of how far we'd come since those desperate early days when I'd emptied my inheritance into his dreams.

"You look stunning," Sarah whispered, appearing at my side with a glass of sparkling water. My trusted assistant knew better than to offer me anything else.

"Have you seen Benjamin?" I asked, scanning the crowd of investors and executives. "He said he wanted to make the announcement at eight sharp."

Sarah nodded toward the stage. "Last I saw, he was reviewing his speech with the event coordinator."

I took a deep breath, feeling the familiar flutter of pride and anxiety. This moment belonged to both of us—to the nights I'd worked alongside him until dawn, to the times I'd reassured him when investors walked away, to the promise he'd made seven years ago when he learned about my father's death.

"I'll never touch a drop, Eleanor," he'd said, holding my trembling hands in his. "I understand what alcohol did to your family. I'll never break that trust."

The lights dimmed, and Benjamin took the stage. My heart swelled at the sight of him—confident, commanding, everything we'd built together.

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice boomed through the speakers, "tonight marks not just a business milestone, but a personal one for me."

I moved closer to the front, expecting him to acknowledge our journey. Instead, I froze as he raised a champagne flute.

"I want to thank someone special who's been with me every step of the way." His eyes found mine in the crowd. "Eleanor, will you join me for a toast?"

The room spun slightly as a waiter appeared at my elbow with a silver tray bearing two flutes of bubbling champagne.

"To new beginnings," Benjamin said, his smile never faltering as he extended one glass toward me.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Seven years of promises shattered in an instant.

"No," I whispered, then louder as heads turned. "No."

Benjamin's smile faltered. "Eleanor, it's just champagne—"

"Just champagne?" My voice echoed in the sudden silence. "Like it was 'just champagne' that killed my father? Like it was 'just champagne' that drove my mother to those pills?"

The room blurred as I backed away, bumping into a waiter who nearly spilled his tray. My gaze caught on a familiar face at the head table—Diana Cruz, watching me with barely concealed satisfaction, her red lips curved in a smile.

"Diana?" I gasped. "You invited her here?"

Benjamin stepped down from the stage, setting his glass down. "She's been instrumental in bringing in the West Coast investors. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think," I repeated, my voice ice-cold now. "Or you didn't care?"

The rain had started by the time I reached the parking garage, big drops splattering against my carefully styled hair and soaking through my designer dress. I didn't care. The cold matched the ice forming around my heart.

My phone buzzed as I slid into my car.

*Where are you going? Diana's had too much. I need to make sure she gets home safe.*

I stared at the screen, raindrops blurring the words. He was staying. With her. While I drove away alone.

*You're overreacting,* came a second message. *It was just champagne, Eleanor. Don't make this into something it's not.*

I threw my phone into the passenger seat and pulled out of the garage, tires squealing on the wet pavement.

The next morning arrived gray and drizzly, matching my mood as I sat at my kitchen counter with ten orange prescription bottles arranged before me like soldiers.

"Ten bottles," I murmured to myself. "One for each year he should have kept his promise."

I wrote the note with steady hands: "Since promises mean nothing to you, perhaps these will help with the consequences."

Marcus had delivered them to me yesterday—antidepressants I'd never needed until now. Now they would serve a different purpose.

"Are you sure about this?" Marcus had asked when I called him at dawn.

"More sure than I've ever been about anything," I replied, sliding the bottles into a courier envelope addressed to Benjamin Howard, CEO.

As I handed it to the courier waiting at my door, I felt something shift inside me—the last piece of the woman who had believed in Benjamin Howard crumbling away.

"He'll get the message," I said quietly, watching the courier's car disappear into the morning traffic.

What I didn't know then was just how desperately Benjamin would try to decipher what the message truly meant—and how many more messages would follow before this was over.