The new assistant had a stomachache, so my aloof and proud CEO husband made her a bowl of brown sugar water. The moment I found out, I filed for divorce.

"You're divorcing me over a cup of brown sugar water?" Denver looked at me in disbelief.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation.

"Fine!" He sneered, jaw clenched. "Just don’t come crying to me later."

Denver and I were each other's first love. We’d been together since high school. He was my whole youth, and he knew it. He believed I could never live without him.

But the truth was, that bowl of brown sugar water was just the final straw.

The signs that he didn’t love me were everywhere, hidden in the tiniest details of our daily life.

He thought I was a parasitic vine clinging to him. But he didn’t realize—I was the towering tree that had shielded him from every storm.

——

“You’re divorcing me over a cup of brown sugar water?” Denver asked again from behind his office desk, raising an eyebrow, his deep voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you serious?"

I nodded slightly. “Yes. Let’s get a divorce.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “This is the 99th time you’ve asked for a divorce, you know.”

I froze. Had I really given him that many chances?

The corners of his lips lifted smugly. “Ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf? You say it too often, and no one believes it anymore. Admit it—you can't live without me.”

Just then, Mallory knocked and walked in, carrying a men’s business suit over her arm.

The moment I saw it, I recognized it. It was Denver’s.

Ever since we got married, I’d been the one coordinating all his clothes—suits, ties, cufflinks, watches... even his underwear and socks. I knew his wardrobe better than he did.

“Mr. Medina,” Mallory said sweetly, “I came to return your jacket. Thank you... for yesterday.”

Denver gave a brief nod. “No need to thank me.”

Then, glancing at me, he asked Mallory, “Are you feeling better now?”

In the past, if I’d heard him show this kind of concern for another woman, I would’ve flown into a jealous rage and demanded to know if he liked her.

But after so many times, Denver grew impatient, and I grew exhausted.

So I simply turned around and left the office, giving them space to bond however they liked.

I didn’t expect Mallory to call after me.

“Sis, please don’t misunderstand! Mr. Medina didn’t cheat on you. Yesterday I got my period and stained my skirt. He just lent me his jacket to cover up!”

I stopped and turned back to her, unable to hold my tongue.

“Did I say Denver cheated on me? Is that how you repay your superior’s kindness—by stirring up drama between husband and wife?”

“And another thing—my mother didn’t give birth to a daughter named Mallory. Don’t call me ‘sister.’ Use my name.”

Mallory blinked, stunned by my sharp tone. Her eyes instantly turned red, tears welling up as she stood there like a frightened little rabbit.

“Michelle!” Denver shot to his feet, pulling a handkerchief out for Mallory and glaring at me.

“How old are you? What kind of grown woman picks on a fresh graduate?”

“Do you really enjoy bullying a new hire?”

Mallory wiped her tears, sniffling pitifully. “Please don’t be angry, Mr. Medina... it was my fault. I’ll apologize to Madam right away!”

She turned to me and bowed. “I’m sorry, Madam.”

Denver quickly pulled her upright and shot me a cold look.

“That’s enough, Michelle. How many times do I have to tell you—stop acting like the CEO’s wife when you’re at the office.”

Behind his back, Mallory’s lips curled into a smug little smile.

Suddenly, I found the whole situation laughable.

A junior assistant who had only been with the company for three months had somehow earned the complete trust of the man I’d been married to for five years.

I couldn’t help but lift my head to look at Denver’s refined, handsome face and asked coldly, “Are you deaf? I told her to call me by my name. She’s the one who kept calling me ‘Madam’—how is that my fault?”

Without waiting for a response, I turned and slammed the office door behind me.

As soon as I got home, I contacted my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement.

While I waited, my best friend Lorelei messaged me a screenshot from Mallory’s social media post.

Lorelei had studied office administration. After graduation, she struggled to find a job, so I recommended her to Medina Corp. She now worked as the executive secretary to the president—Mallory’s direct superior.

The post read. [Got period cramps, and feeling moody. Thankfully, someone made me a warm peach gum and brown sugar drink. So comforting to be cared for like this.]

Below it was a photo: a man’s hand holding out a cup.

On his finger was the wedding band we exchanged when we got married.

There was no doubt about it—the hand belonged to Denver.

Just then, my phone pinged again with a new message.

[I heard from the housekeeper you’ve got a bit of a stuffy nose. Drink more warm water.]

So he made peach gum desserts for another woman, but when it came to me, it was just “drink more water”?

I stared at the screen, at the conversation that no longer lit up with new messages. My heart felt like it had sunk into ice.

I’ve known Denver since I was eighteen. I am twenty-eight now. I knew him inside and out.

He wasn’t the type to meddle in others’ business, especially not someone as indifferent as him. He would never go out of his way for a new assistant—unless he really liked her.

It hurt. God, it hurt more than I thought it would.

That kind of helpless pain—watching the person you love fell for someone else right in front of your eyes—was enough to tear me apart.

I barely slept that night. When I woke up the next morning, my pillow was damp, and my eyes were swollen like walnuts.

Letting out a sigh, I washed my face, put on sunglasses, and drove to the nursing home.

I wheeled my father out to the lawn to sit in the sun. For the first time in a long time, we had an honest conversation.

The old man sat in his wheelchair, puffing on a cigarette, giving me the occasional sideways glance.

“What’s with the sunglasses? Did Denver hit you?”

I shook my head and got straight to the point. “I’m divorcing him.”

My dad let out a scoffing laugh, took two hard drags of his cigarette, and said, “When? Want me to find someone to help you move?”

I shook my head again, pulled a bank card from my pocket, and stuffed it into his hand.

“Take this. I probably won’t be able to visit you for a while.”

He didn’t believe me until he felt the card in his palm. Then the look in his eyes changed. He stared at me in stunned silence.

Even when I was already walking away, I heard him shout after me.

“Wait—are you serious? You’re really leaving? Where are you going to find someone better than him?”

Yeah. Everyone thought Denver was the best I could ever get.

Top-tier education. Impressive family background. Good looks.

But they all seemed to forget—I wasn’t some damsel with a pitiful background, nor a soft-hearted, sweet-talking social climber.

I was a top graduate in a prestigious university’s elite program, once hailed as a genius in the AI field.

Back in my sophomore year at Stanford University, I’d independently applied for several AI patents. Before even graduating, I founded a leading AI tech company with a few senior classmates—and I still hold 60% of its shares.

Marrying into the Medina family’s so-called "upper class" had nothing to do with my crippled, gambling-addicted father—or any fake innocent persona I put on.

On the drive back home, Lorelei called.

“There’s a high school reunion tonight. Are you coming?”

We all attended high school here in our hometown.

Every year around this time, the closer classmates would organize a small reunion.

Since I’d made up my mind to leave, I figured it was time to say a proper goodbye—so I agreed to go.

At 8:30 p.m., I arrived at Suite 603 of “Winnie's Bar,” a local upscale karaoke and entertainment club, just as Lorelei had texted me.

As soon as I entered, my classmates started teasing me.

“Where’s Denver? He didn’t come with you?”

Someone laughed, “Come on, when has Mr. Medina ever shown up at a class reunion? He’s got a million things to deal with every day!”

But then a woman sitting in the corner let out a snort and said mockingly, “Who says Denver didn’t come? I just saw him in the private room next door—blocking drinks for some young girl.”

She looked right at me. “Michelle, don’t tell me your husband is cheating on you? Finally losing your grip, huh?”

I recognized her immediately—it was Colette.

Back in high school, she was always second-best, constantly trying and failing to beat me.

Before I got together with Denver, she had even confessed her feelings to him.

But he chose me. And ever since then, she’s held a grudge—convinced I stole him from her.

Now, finally catching wind of trouble in my marriage, she was seizing the chance to gloat.

The others quickly jumped in to defend me.

“No way. Denver loves Michelle to death. Even if every man on earth cheated, he wouldn’t.”

“I don’t buy it either. Remember how over-the-top he was when he chased her? And that time Michelle got in that car accident—he was crying like a baby!”

“His parents were so against them dating that they cut him off financially. And just to buy her a birthday gift, Denver worked a whole month at a burger joint after school.”

One by one, they recalled all the things Denver had done for me.

Their words triggered a flood of memories, flashing before my eyes like a reel of film.

They didn’t believe he could ever cheat, and their disbelief only made Colette angrier.

She slapped the table and stood up. “You don’t believe me? Fine! Come with me and see for yourselves!”

“Sure, let’s go. Who’s afraid of you?”

“Come on, Michelle. Let’s go shut her up!”

Someone tugged on my arm, trying to pull me along to publicly slap Colette in the face with the truth.

But I hesitated.

Because deep down... I was afraid she might be telling the truth.

Just as Lorelei was about to step in to change the subject and smooth things over, Colette folded her arms, eyes gleaming with triumph.

“What’s wrong, Michelle? Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

“I told you long ago—women like you, who fight and claw for everything, always end up with nothing. One day, you’ll be tossed aside like a stray dog.”

Just as her voice fell, the door to the room suddenly opened from the outside.

Standing at the entrance—was Denver.

And right behind him was his assistant, Mallory.

“I heard you guys were having a reunion next door, so I thought I’d drop by and say hello,” he said casually.

“Wife, enjoy yourself tonight. Put everything on my tab.”

I glanced sideways at Lorelei. She gave me a subtle wave of her phone—clearly, she was the one who’d messaged Denver to come and defuse the situation.

Our classmates were thrilled.

“Someone said Michelle got dumped? Open your eyes—this is what happiness looks like!”

Colette froze. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

But just then, Mallory gently tugged on Denver’s sleeve and spoke in a soft, delicate voice, “Mr. Medina, are these all your high school classmates? I really want to get to know them!”

The next moment, without the slightest hesitation, Denver wrapped an arm around her shoulders—and began introducing each person in the room by name.

Instantly, the entire suite fell into stunned silence.

It was as if someone had slapped me across the face—hard.

I stood there frozen, humiliated, caught between leaving and staying, with nowhere to go.