The night before the annual gala, my wife promised me a big surprise.

But the very next day, she publicly quintupled the marketing manager's bonus. To me, she just gave a curt nod and a half-hearted "keep up the good work".

When I questioned her decision, she brushed it off casually. "You've racked up some impressive wins in court. I'll give you that, but let's be real. Without Kevin hyping you up, you'd never have hit top-tier status. Plus, what's mine is yours. Why nitpick over a bonus?"

The room buzzed with anticipation of my explosion. But I held my tongue till the gala ended.

The next morning, I marched into her office and slapped my resignation letter down on her desk. "Might as well tack my salary onto Kevin's. Consider it my wedding present to you."

She erupted, branding me as narrow-minded and dooming me to the unemployment line.

She conveniently overlooked my track record as a powerhouse attorney. For that alone, elite firms were lining up to recruit me.

"I don't want to talk about this," Effie Marsh said, hurling her bag onto the couch.

Her face was etched with icy detachment, shutting down any chance of further discussion.

I rubbed my throbbing temples, bone-tired from the endless back-and-forth.

We'd been at each other's throats since clocking out, sparked by the events at the firm's annual gala earlier that day.

I couldn't comprehend why she had diminished my hard-earned victories while propping up Kevin Taylor, the fresh-faced newcomer who'd joined the firm only months ago.

To her, my objections were petty, a childish scramble for minor perks against Kevin. The spat dragged on until we both dug in our heels, the air crackling with tension.

Her phone pinged with an incoming message. She fished it out, scanned the screen, and furrowed her brow.

"Something came up at the office. I gotta head back for a client schmooze," she said. "I'm done arguing over nonsense. Pull yourself together, and remember to compile that case breakdown for tomorrow's hearing. Send it to me ASAP."

She sighed, adding, "You're being so small-minded. We've been married for five years, and you're fixated on chump change. It's disappointing."

"Small-minded? Me?" I was incredulous.

She had a knack for derailing arguments, dodging the core issue like a pro. Whenever Kevin was mentioned, she'd pivot to her jam-packed schedule or remind me of our common interest.

The next few minutes passed in stony quiet.

She grumbled about her exhausting day, insisting on a shower before changing in the bedroom. We exchanged no words, our standoff chilling the air.

But a marriage couldn't survive like this indefinitely. Someone had to break the ice.

I mulled it over and stepped toward her, ready to extend an olive branch, when a peculiar sight stopped me cold.

Effie was furtively tucking a bundle into her suit pants. I edged closer for a better look, and my stomach twisted.

It was a pair of black stockings, the kind that screamed anything but a late-night work grind.

The apology lodged in my throat, neither coming out nor going down easily.

A heavy dread settled in my chest. Memories of her strange behavior over the past six months flooded back.

There had been endless meetings and frequent business trips. Her impatience with me had been growing, and intimacy was a distant memory.

That meant nothing but a love affair. The truth hit like a freight train.

I staggered, eager to confront her, but I reined it in.

Swallowing the rising bile, I decided this could be the catalyst for a swift, clean break, as our marriage had long been a hollow shell.

I quietly backed out of the bedroom and sank onto the couch.

Effie emerged moments later, her posture tense. "Did you call me just now?"

I met her gaze with feigned confusion. "No."

Relief washed over her, but soon, her expression hardened back to frosty indifference.

"I'm off to the office. We can hash out the bonus drama later," she said. "Don't wait up. I might crash there tonight."

She left without awaiting my reply.

I counted down the minutes, estimating her drive out of the complex, then shrugged into my coat, dashed downstairs, and flagged a cab to tail her.

Right from the start, her route veered wildly off course.

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips as Effie's car finally stopped at a hotel.

Barred from following her inside, I zeroed in on her car instead.

Slipping into the driver's seat, I unlocked the dash camera and rewound the footage, my heart pounding as Effie's voice filled the air.

"Babe, you make it yet? I'm pulling up soon. Blame the delay on Gabriel. He's been paranoid, picking fights over nothing."

My brows knitted, but her follow-up jab sliced deeper. "He forgets who handed him his big break. Now he's flipping out over the bonus. It's driving me nuts. I need your kisses to calm down."

Rage surged through my veins as I recognized the voice on the line. It belonged to Kevin.

His meteoric rise, the lavish praise, the bonus bonanza, and Effie's "extended working hours" all made sense now.

"How could you betray me like this?" I muttered bitterly.

In fact, Kevin's arrival had raised eyebrows from day one. He was just a fresh graduate with scant experience, yet he landed a leadership role in the firm.

His performance was mediocre at best, but Effie showered him with prime assignments, stirring grumbles among the veteran staff.

In record time, those perks catapulted him to marketing manager, which had fueled my initial suspicions.

Effie's attentiveness to him was excessive. During those client dinners and networking events, I'd often find myself sidelined while Kevin claimed the seat beside her.

I'd raised concerns, but she'd dismiss them every time. "He's my junior from college. Guiding him a little doesn't hurt."

I finally realized what was going on with her solo trips and all-nighters. Undoubtedly, she was tangled up with Kevin in some illicit rendezvous.

Dazed and heartbroken, I trudged back home.

Collapsing onto the couch, I scrubbed my face with trembling hands.

Guessing at infidelity was one thing, but irrefutable proof was a gut punch. I'd poured my soul into loving Effie, and this betrayal stung like salt in an open wound.

The TV droned on in the background, airing a local segment about a son who murdered someone to avenge his mother's death, but I barely registered it.

My mind was a whirlwind until exhaustion claimed me on the cushions well past midnight.

Dreams of our early days haunted me.

We'd crossed paths fresh out of law school, Effie's confident, decisive energy captivating me.

I pursued her ardently, and once together, she founded the firm to support my career.

Gratitude fueled my grind. I slaved away for six grueling years, building our firm brick by brick.

Our wedding was blessed by ecstatic families. Yet here we were, the firm soaring, and before the infamous seven-year itch could even set in, she'd shattered our vows.

The restless night left me groggy, and I stumbled into work late the next morning.

Effie wasted no time unleashing hell, berating me publicly during the executive huddle.

"What's your excuse?" she snapped. "I chewed you out yesterday, and today you're dragging in late? No perfect attendance for you this month. Go reflect on that!"

Under the weight of pitying glances and blank stares from the team, I nodded and bit back any retort.

My restraint only fueled her fire; she interpreted it as defiance.

Once the room cleared, she lounged in her executive chair, folded her arms, and unleashed a frosty tirade. "Get this straight: office rules apply here. Being my husband doesn't give you the right to defy me publicly. I always keep business and personal separate."

I chewed over her words. The irony twisted my lips into a sardonic smile.

While she was principled with me, her call to Kevin last night dripped with honeyed affection and endless compliments.

Her escalating fury met my wall of silence, which she took as outright disrespect.

She bolted upright, pounding the desk with her hand. "What's your deal? You dissatisfied or something?"

Ignoring her venom, I pivoted on my heel, exited the office, and beelined for HR to handle my resignation.

"You sure about resigning?" the HR coordinator asked, wide-eyed.

"Absolutely," I replied firmly.

He gaped, probing me repeatedly to confirm.

My marriage to Effie was never broadcast, but office gossip had pieced it together over time.

Unwilling to be part of our domestic drama, the HR coordinator hemmed and hawed. "Uh, this is huge. I'm not authorized to greenlight it solo. Maybe consult with Ms. Marsh? See what she says."

My role was central to the firm, and my exit indeed required her stamp of approval.

"Skip that step," I insisted. "Process it by standard procedure."

My tone was steady and resolute. It didn't sound like a rushed decision.

After a pause, the coordinator relented, telling me to collect the paperwork in the afternoon.

But no sooner had I stepped out than Effie buzzed me back to her office. Kevin was there, greeting me with a plastic grin. "Hey, Gabriel."

"Perfect timing," Effie said. "Caught that vigilante killing story on the news last night—the one avenging his mom? The case is ours, thanks to Kevin's hustle. Crush this, and you'll be a household name in legal circles."

Her olive branch felt forced, her tone laced with condescension as she doled out this "prestigious" gig: representing the killer who'd dominated headlines.

I'd skimmed the details that morning. The case was a media circus, inflamed by public opinion.

Success could catapult my profile, but Kevin's motives behind this were suspicious.

This case was a minefield. If I did it too zealously, I'd alienate the masses. If I faltered, my reputation would tank.

Law clashed with raw emotion, guaranteeing backlash no matter the outcome. It would be a stain on any attorney's record.

I declined outright, "Backlog is piling up. I can't juggle another case. Hand it off."

"What's the matter?" Effie scoffed. "A string of victories, and now you're snubbing prime cases? I say seize the day. What are you thinking?"

Kevin piled on, feigning counsel. "Acing this boosts the firm across the board. Reconsider for Ms. Marsh's sake and our long-term goals. We landed this gem because I pushed hard. Someone is gotta step up, and you're the prime candidate."

I bristled at his manipulative ploy, poised to counter, when Effie's phone rang.

"Hello? What? Who is quitting?" Her composure cracked, her complexion paling as the information sank in.

Once the call ended, she fixed me with wide-eyed incredulity. "You're resigning? Over my morning scolding?"

She surged to her feet, quaking with indignation.

I calmly braced against the desk, inching nearer with a steely smirk. "More than that. I'm filing for divorce, too."