Then his voice came, deeper, rougher than the one he used with me. “Mr. McAllister? Call me that again and I’ll stop right here. You testing me, huh?”

There was a small laugh, “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean it…”

“Then say it right,” he said, low and coaxing, like he had all the patience in the world for her. “What do you call me?”

A pause. Then softly, almost shy. “Baby…”

“Good girl,” he muttered.

My nails dug into my palm so hard it hurt. Even after everything, after knowing how this all ended, my heart still cracked open like it was new. Why did it still hurt? Haven’t I died once already?

I stood there for a long time. I don’t even know how long. Long enough for the sounds to fade, for silence to come back.

Then I lifted my hand and knocked.

“Come in.”

When I pushed the door open, Bernard was already behind his desk, perfectly composed. Tie straight, expression calm, like nothing happened. Like there wasn’t a woman still hidden somewhere in that room.

His eyes landed on me and narrowed slightly. “What are you doing here?”

Cold. Just like always.

“I brought something for you to sign,” I said, walking in slowly.

I took the document out of my bag, flipped to the last page, and slid it across the desk toward him.

“What is it?” he asked, already reaching for a pen, barely even looking.

Before he could read, there was a soft sound under the desk. A small, muffled breath.

His hand paused for half a second. Then he leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat, like he was covering it up.

I didn’t look down.

I just tightened my grip on my bag until my fingers hurt. I could taste bitterness in my throat, thick and choking, but I swallowed it anyway.

“It’s nothing important,” I said. “Just some property transfer stuff.”

He didn’t question it.

Of course he didn’t. Why would he? I was just his wife. The boring one. The one who handled things quietly and never caused trouble.

“Next time, just have someone bring it over. You don’t need to come here for this kind of crap.”

I almost laughed.

Is it because you’re worried I’ll get tired… or because you’re scared I’ll see her?

“It’s fine. Just this once. You’re busy anyway. I won’t take up your time.”

He hummed, distracted, and signed his name without another glance. Quick. Clean. Like it meant nothing.

The divorce agreement.

Just like that.

I took the papers back, my hands steady.

“Get some rest at home,” he added, not even looking at me anymore. “You look like shit.”

I nodded. “I will.”

Then I turned and walked out.

The moment the door closed behind me, I pulled out my phone. My fingers didn’t shake this time.

I dialed the number.

“It’s me,” I said when the line connected. “I’m selling thirty five percent of MacAllister Group shares. Low price.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“When do we sign?”

“One month,” I said. “We’ll finalize everything in one month.”

That was when the divorce would take effect.

And when that happened, I would walk away from everything I built with my own hands. The company. The name. All of it.

I lowered the phone slowly after the call ended.

Bernard.

In my last life, you hated me for sending her away. You destroyed my entire world for that one decision.

This time…

I’ll give you exactly what you want. And then I’ll take everything you never thought you could lose.

Before I left, I stopped by the restroom.

I splashed some water on my face, stared at myself in the mirror for a second. Pale. Tired. Empty. I almost didn’t recognize the woman looking back at me.

When I walked out, I ran straight into her.

Ingrid.

She was walking toward me like she owned the place.

“Mrs. MacAllister... You’re still here?”

Her shirt was slightly open, just enough to show the marks on her skin. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. She wanted me to see.

I stopped and looked at her properly.

In my past life, I crushed her in less than a day. I used everything I had, pressure, threats, money, until she backed off and left for New York on her own.

Now?

I was too tired.

Too tired to fight. Too tired to care.

I looked away and walked past her without saying a word.

I didn’t even make it five steps when a hot liquid splashed across my back.

I flinched. The heat burned through my clothes instantly.

“Oh!” Ingrid gasped behind me, way too dramatic. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to.”

I turned slowly.

She was holding an empty coffee cup, her lips trembling like she was about to cry. But her eyes… her eyes were smiling.

“I just…” she continued softly, lowering her gaze. “President MacAllister kept me busy earlier. I guess I used too much energy. My hands are still shaking.”

My stomach twisted.

Images flashed in my head without permission. Him and her. In that office. Right above where I was standing.

I felt sick.

I didn’t want to deal with this. Not anymore. But that didn’t mean she got to walk all over me.

Before I could think twice, I stepped forward and slapped her.

The sound echoed down the hallway.

Her head snapped to the side.

And right at that moment, the office door opened.

Bernard walked out.

Ingrid reacted fast. Faster than I expected. She dropped to the floor right in front of me, covering her face, her body trembling.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. MacAllister,” she cried, “I didn’t mean it, please don’t be mad at me. I know I was careless.”

Bernard’s expression darkened instantly.

“What the hell is going on?” he snapped, already moving toward her.

He shoved me aside without even looking.

My back, already burned from the coffee, slammed into the corner of the wall. Pain shot through me and I sucked in a breath, but he didn’t notice. Of course he didn’t.

He crouched down in front of her, “Hey. Look at me. What happened?”

Ingrid sniffed, clinging to his sleeve. “I felt dizzy… I think my blood sugar dropped. I didn’t see properly and spilled coffee on Mrs. MacAllister. She got angry and slapped me. I understand… I really do but my head still feels so light…”

His jaw tightened.

Then he looked up at me.

That look. Cold. Sharp. Full of blame.

“She’s just a kid! An intern. You really had to hit her over something like that? What’s wrong with you?”

I stared at him.

A kid?

So that’s what she was now?

He didn’t wait for my answer. He slid one arm under Ingrid and lifted her up carefully, like she was something fragile.

“Easy,” he muttered to her. “I’ve got you.”

And then he carried her back into the office.

Just like that.

I stood there, watching his back disappear, and something inside me finally broke.

Tears fell before I could stop them.

I remembered… there was a time when I got a small cut on my finger. Just a tiny one. He panicked back then. Carried me all the way to the hospital, cursing at the doctors to hurry up. They even laughed at him for overreacting.

Now…

That same man didn’t even notice I was hurt.

I wiped my face quickly. Enough. I already decided, didn’t I? So why does it still hurt this much?

I straightened up, ignoring the pain in my back, and walked out of the building.

I didn’t look back.

I went straight to the courthouse and filed for divorce.

There was a waiting period. A month. After that, everything between me and Bernard would be over.

Completely over.

This time, I wasn’t going to stay.

No matter what.

…

That night, Bernard didn’t come home. He only sent me a message. Said he had to stay late at the company, some business that couldn’t wait. Then he added one more line, cold and casual. Don’t be late for dinner tomorrow. That dinner… I was the one who arranged it. A client tied to one of his underground deals. Important. Dangerous. I stared at the screen for a while before replying.

“Okay.”

That was it. I didn’t ask where he really was. What was the point?

...

The next night, I arrived at the club on time. Private room. High-end place. The kind where deals were made over drinks and blood got cleaned before anyone noticed. But he wasn’t there. Instead, I saw Ingrid. She stood up when she saw me, all neat and proper, nothing like yesterday.

“Mrs. MacAllister,” she said politely. “President MacAllister is still in a meeting. He asked me to come ahead and let you know. He also said I should observe and learn.”

Observe? I almost laughed. Still, I nodded and led her inside.

“Fine. Stay close and don’t mess anything up.”

Dinner started. The client was already tipsy, loud, eyes wandering. Ingrid didn’t hold back. She poured drinks, leaned in close, her body brushing against him on purpose. Smiling, laughing, letting him touch her arm longer than necessary. Anyone could see what she was doing. I felt disgust crawl up my throat. I hated this kind of thing. Always had. I built everything without playing those games. I wasn’t about to sit there and watch it happen in front of me. I stood up.

“Excuse me.”

And walked out to the bathroom. When I came back, something felt off. There were people gathered outside the private room, whispering, tense. My heart skipped. I pushed through them and stepped inside. The room was a mess. Chairs knocked over. Glass shattered. The air smelled sharp, metallic. And on the floor… the client lay in a pool of blood. My breath caught.

“What happened?”

Then I saw him. Bernard. He was already there. And in his arms was Ingrid, her hair messy, dress wrinkled, trembling as she clung to him. I understood in an instant. Before I could even speak again, a sharp pain exploded across my face. He slapped me. My head snapped to the side.

“Don’t you know what’s the fuck going on?” he snapped, his voice low and furious, “Naomi, you wanna play dirty, go ahead. I won’t stop you. But don’t drag her into your shit! She’s not built for that. She’s not as ruthless as you.”

I froze. My cheek burned, but it was nothing compared to what his words did. Ruthless? Me? I remembered the early days of the company. Running around, closing deals, facing men who thought they could corner me.

One time it got dangerous. I refused. Walked away even if it meant losing everything. He was furious back then. Stormed to my place, grabbed me, even hit me once in anger. Got himself locked up for a few days because of it. And when he came out, he held me and said, you did the right thing. Thank you for protecting yourself.

From that day on, everyone knew I hated those unspoken rules. But now… this was who I was to him? A woman who’d do anything for business? A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.

“Is that really how you see me?”

He paused. Just for a second. Something flickered in his eyes. Then Ingrid tightened her grip on his shirt.

“Mr. MacAllister,” she said weakly, her face flushed, “Your wife… she asked me to drink with him. I told her I couldn’t handle alcohol, but she kept pouring for me. I feel so sick right now…”

Silence. Then his face hardened again. His gaze turned sharp when it landed on me. Cold. Almost disgusted.

“People change,” he said slowly. “I guess I just didn’t see it happening to you.”

That hurt more than the slap. He didn’t wait for me to respond. He picked Ingrid up in his arms, careful, protective.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to her.

And then he walked out. Just like that. I stood there, surrounded by the mess, by the whispers, by the blood. I lowered my eyes. After a long time, I forced a smile. It hurt more than crying. Yeah… people do change. He wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe he never was.

...

On the way home, the streets felt too quiet. I didn’t notice when I was being followed. Not until someone grabbed me and dragged me into a dark alley. My heart jumped into my throat.

“What are you doing?” I struggled, panic rising. “Let me go!”

No answer. They shoved me down and dragged me further, my heels scraping against the ground. I tried to fight back, but there were too many of them. Then I heard water.

A river.

Cold dread crept up my spine.

They hauled me to the edge and forced me down. One of them grabbed my hair and slammed my face into the water.

Everything went black for a second.

I choked, thrashed, tried to breathe but water rushed into my nose and mouth, burning, suffocating. Just when I thought I’d pass out, they yanked me up. I gasped, coughing, barely getting air in.

Then they pushed me down again.

Again.

Again.

I lost count. My lungs screamed, my body went weak, and I couldn’t even struggle properly anymore. I felt myself slipping, like I was already halfway gone.

When they finally stopped, I collapsed on the ground, shaking, coughing up water, my whole body numb.

Then I heard them talking.

“Alright, that’s enough,” one of them said, a little uneasy. “The boss only told us to scare her, not kill her. You wanna deal with the fallout if something happens?”

Another one laughed, “What are you scared of? You seen how that bastard treats his own wife? He doesn’t give a damn about her. Even if we go further, who’s gonna care? Hell, he might even thank us for it.”

My eyes snapped open.

They were talking about Bernard.

My chest tightened so hard it hurt.

So this was for Ingrid. Because she acted weak, because she played the victim, because she almost got “hurt” at that dinner… he wanted me to feel it too.

He really loved her that much?

One of them crouched down, his hand reaching toward my clothes, rough fingers brushing against my skin. I froze, my body going cold.

Then suddenly—

Police sirens.

Loud. Sharp. Getting closer.

“Hey! Stop right there!” someone shouted from a distance. “I already called the cops!”

The men cursed under their breath.

“Shit, let’s go!”

They scattered immediately, running off into the darkness without even looking back.

Just like that, they were gone.

I lay there, soaked, trembling, staring up at the night sky. My mind was blank. Empty.

Then something inside me cracked.

I started crying.

Everything I held in just poured out all at once. My chest hurt so bad I could barely breathe. Even then, my body kept retching.

It took a long time before I could move again.

I pushed myself up slowly and walked home.

Bernard didn’t come back that night.

Or the next.

...

A whole week passed, and we didn’t talk once. No calls. No messages. It was just silence, cold and distant, like we were strangers sharing the same name.

But I still knew where he was.

Ingrid made sure of that.

Every day, she posted pictures. Dinner under candlelight. A private movie theater just for the two of them. Fireworks lit up the sky while she stood beside him, smiling. Every post was different, but the message was the same.

He was with her. Always with her.

He gave her everything. Designer bags, jewelry, a house, even one of his black cards with no limit. The kind of treatment I never even got as his wife.

I stayed home.

I didn’t go out. I didn’t call anyone.

If I was leaving, then everything tied to me should disappear too.

On the first day, she posted photos of them together. Smiling. Close. Intimate.

I went to the storage room and took out all the albums. Every memory we ever kept. I burned them all.

I watched them turn to ash, one by one, until there was nothing left.

…

The next day, she posted a video of them baking together. Flour on their hands, laughing, feeding each other like they were the only two people in the world.

I stood in the living room for a long time, staring at it. Then I walked to the wine cabinet. Bottles he had collected for years. Expensive, rare, things he once said he was saving for special days with me.

I took one down.

And smashed it on the floor.

Then another.

And another.

Glass shattered everywhere, the smell of wine spreading through the air. I didn’t stop until my hands were shaking and the floor was a mess of broken pieces.

On the seventh day, she posted a video again. Bernard confessed to her, vand she smiled shyly before slipping off the ring on her finger.

I looked down at my own hand.

The diamond was still there. Shining under the light.

Once, I thought it meant something.

I stared at it for a long time. Then I walked to the bathroom, took it off, and dropped it into the toilet.

...

That night, Bernard came back.

It was already late when the bed dipped beside me. His arm reached around my waist out of habit.

“Wife,” he muttered, voice low and a little tired. “Let’s stop this cold war, alright? I’m not in the mood for this shit anymore. Tomorrow’s the company’s tenth anniversary. Come with me. We’ll show up together.”

Our eighth wedding anniversary.

Funny, right? It used to mean everything to me. Every year, I planned it myself. Every detail. Every smile.

This year would be the last.

I moved slightly, closer to the edge of the bed, just out of his reach.

“Mm,” I answered softly.

His hand paused in the air. Missed me.

For a second, he didn’t move. Then he let out a quiet breath. Probably thought I was still angry.

I felt him settle back.

He must’ve remembered the “gift” he prepared. Something to make me happy again. That always worked before.

It didn’t take long before his breathing evened out.

He fell asleep.

I stayed awake.

The next day, the anniversary event was held in one of his private estates. A huge garden, lights everywhere, a pool at the center reflecting everything like a mirror. People in suits and dresses, laughter, music, deals hidden under smiles.

Perfect.

Too perfect.

The big screen lit up. It started with the company’s history. Growth. Power. Blood behind success that no one talked about.

Then it switched to us.

Ten years of “love.”

Photos, videos, memories. Us standing side by side, smiling, holding hands, facing everything together.

People around us started whispering. Admiring. Envious.

I felt his gaze on me. When I looked up, his expression had softened a little. Almost… warm.

Then everything changed.

The screen flickered.

And suddenly, it was her.

Dozens of photos. Bernard and Ingrid. Close. Intimate. Some taken in places I didn’t even recognize. Some of her alone, private, exposed in ways that made people gasp.

The entire place exploded into noise.

Everyone started talking at once. Eyes turned to me instantly. Of course. Who else would do something like this? The wife exposing the mistress.

Bernard’s face darkened. His eyes went cold again.

“Naomi,” he snapped, “What the hell is this? You think this is funny?”

I shook my head immediately. “I didn’t do this.”

Before I could say more, Ingrid ran up to us, tears already falling.

“Mrs. MacAllister,” she cried, “Mr. MacAllister and I… we never crossed that line. Why would you do this to me? Why would you ruin me like this?”

“I didn’t,” I said, my voice coming out weaker than I wanted.

She grabbed Bernard’s arm, holding on tight. “Mr. MacAllister, I can’t stay anymore. If I stay, people will keep talking. I’ll resign. I’ll leave. I don’t want to destroy your marriage.”

Then she turned and ran off, crying.

Bernard’s body tensed. Panic flashed across his face. He moved to go after her, but I grabbed his hand.

“I didn’t do it,” I said again, looking straight at him. “You have to believe me this time.”

He didn’t.

He shook my hand off hard. I stumbled back, my heel slipping. My body crashed straight into the champagne tower behind me.

Glass shattered.

Liquid spilled everywhere.

I fell to the ground, pain shooting through me as sharp edges cut into my skin.

He didn’t even look.

“You’re really getting out of hand,” he said coldly. “Following people, taking pictures, spreading shit like this. What won’t you do anymore?”

“I didn’t…”

“I was gonna make it up to you,” he cut me off, irritation clear in his voice. “Thought you were just throwing a tantrum. But you? You crossed the line.”

Then he pulled something out.

An emerald necklace.

My breath stopped.

That necklace… it was my family’s. Passed down for generations. I sold it years ago to save his company. I never got it back and now it was in his hand.

For a second, hope flickered.

Then he threw it.

Straight into the pool.

“No—!” I shouted, my voice breaking.

But he was already turning away.

“Stay here and clean up your mess,” he said without even looking back. “I don’t have time for this.”

And then he left.

Chasing after her.