After the gala, we made a tactful early exit, leaving the younger employees to enjoy the rest of their night.

The moment I got into the car, I noticed the passenger seat had been moved.

And there, stuck to the corners of the sun visor, were several cutesy cartoon stickers.

Besides me, no one dared treat Liam like a chauffeur. And no one would be audacious enough to claim the front passenger seat as their own.

I knew instantly who they belonged to.

A sudden, white-hot rage surged through me.

I hated to admit it, but in that moment, I was so provoked I felt a prickling heat spread across my scalp as my reason began to fray.

Even when I knew Liam had given Sophia a design I'd created, I'd only mourned the loss of a good idea.

But this—her leaving a mark in my personal space—was a blatant provocation.

In five years of marriage, I had never been this furious.

I wanted to slap Liam, kick him out of the car, then hunt down Sophia and give her a piece of my mind.

I was about to open my mouth when his phone rang.

Utterly oblivious to my fury, Liam calmly answered Sophia's call.

I yanked at the seat adjuster in frustration as I heard him say:

"Okay, don't worry. I'll be right there."

My hand froze. I slowly lifted my head and stared at him.

Liam frowned slightly. "Sophia's at the department store trying to return the jewelry. She doesn't have the receipt, so I need to go."

"Chloe, I'll have the driver come get you. You head home first."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You're going to leave me here for something so trivial?"

"Chloe, can you please not make this so difficult? The girl has a lot of pride. After what you pulled, she cried until her voice was raw. All she wants is to return the jewelry."

"Is it pride, or is she just trying to provoke me by playing the victim? Can't she return it herself?"

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing in exasperation. "Chloe, what's the point of bullying a newcomer?"

"When did you become so petty? You were never like this before."

The towering rage from moments before vanished, doused by a cold, endless wave of disappointment.

Suddenly, the whole situation felt absurd.

"I'm being petty?"

"Liam, you have never defended another woman to me. Not even your own mother. This is a first."

A flicker of confusion crossed Liam's stern face.

"When we got married, we made a pact for our families' sake: no infidelity from you, no staying out all night from me. Are you really going to break it for her?"

Liam's gaze was deep and cold.

He was quiet for a long moment before finally dialing the family driver.

Then, he leaned over to unbuckle my seatbelt, his tone chillingly calm.

"Chloe, you're always so assertive. We're husband and wife, not just business partners. Outside of work, can't you be more like other wives? Can't you rely on me, yield to me, just a little?"

"After I handle this with Sophia, I'm going to my parents' place on Long Island for the night. We both need to cool down."

So that was it.

He was desperate to find his masculine pride in another woman's arms.

But he used to say he admired my decisiveness, my take-charge attitude.

He was just tired of me. Bored.

Why invent such a self-righteous excuse and try to pin the blame on me?

Without another word, I got out of the car and watched the black Maserati disappear down the street.

I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend.

"Olivia, prepare the divorce papers."

I would never have considered divorcing Liam unless it was the absolute last resort.

Our families were both old-money New York dynasties, and we had been childhood sweethearts.

But he went to study in the UK, and we lost touch for a decade.

We met again at a banquet where our families were orchestrating our arranged marriage.

He was polite and poised, charming the elders with ease.

And I, when not running my company, had spent my fair share of nights blowing off steam in Manhattan's clubs.

I thought we'd be distant, awkward.

But when we were alone, I discovered a witty, humorous man hidden beneath that composed exterior.

It rekindled the easy familiarity of our youth.

We were both at the height of our careers, we admired each other, and we were engaged and married in short order.

After the wedding, we exchanged shares in each other's companies, with my design firm and his tech company forming an unprecedented partnership.

Divorce, and the division of our assets, would be an absolute nightmare.

Back home, I showered, drank a glass of warm milk, and got ready for bed.

A good-night message from Liam popped up on my phone.

Followed by a cute kissing emoji.

Even in a cold war, he still went through the motions.

The next morning, heading to work, I was nearly knocked off my feet by a blond young man in the coffee shop downstairs.

My Hermès Birkin hit the ground hard, scraping the leather.

The latte in his hand went flying, splashing across the hem of my cashmere coat.

The two security guards at the door immediately rushed over.

They started yelling at the young man for not watching where he was going.

The youth, startled, scrambled to pick up my bag. He handed it to me, then fumbled for a tissue to wipe the stain on my coat.

When he saw it wouldn't come out, he dropped to his knees on the cold floor, begging for my forgiveness.

In the dead of winter, he wore only a thin jacket and sunglasses, but even they couldn't hide the dark bruises under his eyes.

I ignored my stained coat, frowning as I gently rubbed the scuff on my bag.

And as fate would have it, Liam, who always arrived at work at the same time, saw the entire scene.

Our company headquarters stood directly across the street from each other.

He stood there, watching quietly, his face cold and grave.

For the first time, I saw disgust in his eyes.

He probably saw my aloof posture as another example of me throwing my weight around.

I ignored his silent judgment. Taking a step back, I held up a hand to stop the approaching security guards and grabbed the young man's arm, pulling him to his feet.

"I don't know what you're going through, but a man should never kneel so easily. You can lose anything, but never lose your dignity. It's the only thing you truly own."

The young man kept apologizing and thanking me as he cleaned up the mess.

Finally, he scurried away.

As he rounded the corner, he glanced back over his shoulder, a cryptic smile on his lips.

Back in my office, I sat at my desk and carefully examined the damaged bag.

The scratch wasn't large; you wouldn't see it if you weren't looking for it.

But once a thing is flawed, it can never be perfect again.

Because it was so precious, even the smallest imperfection was nearly impossible to repair.

Much like my relationship with Liam.

The look in his eyes that morning was still a thorn in my side.

Liam and I always had lunch together in my office, delivered by our private chef.

Today, I waited until one. When he didn't show, I figured he wasn't coming.

The moment I opened my lunch, he walked in.

Trailing behind him was Sophia.

Her eyes were red and swollen. She kept her head bowed in a picture of meek submission.

I put down my chopsticks and just watched them.

Liam sat down beside me and sighed.

"Because of last night, Sophia is being targeted and ostracized by everyone at the company."

I picked up my spoon and began to ladle soup for myself, not even bothering to look up.

"What's the problem? She's the great CEO's assistant. Can't she handle a little workplace drama?"

"I was hoping you would tell your people to back off. Stop making things difficult for her."

It was standard practice in our world to have allies planted in each other's companies.

Liam was implying my people were targeting Sophia to defend my honor.

Nearly every employee from both our companies had been at the gala.

It was only natural that Sophia would face criticism for her behavior.

I stirred my soup and took a sip.

"First, I have not instructed anyone to target your assistant. You know that's not my style."

"Second, if she's suffering, she has only herself to blame for her complete lack of boundaries."

"Liam, you still don't understand people. The exceptions you make for her, the way you indulge her—sooner or later, that will make enemies for her. The person hurting her is you, not me."

Sophia, silent until now, suddenly stepped forward. "It has nothing to do with Liam," she said anxiously.

"Chloe, what happened yesterday was my fault. It was the first time I'd ever received such a valuable gift. I got carried away and offended you. I apologize."

I was taken aback for a second, then I laughed. "Liam, your assistant is quite a piece of work. Can't grasp plain English, but fiercely protective of you, isn't she?"

I didn't accept her insincere apology, nor did I promise to intervene.

Sophia's tearful grievances finally wore Liam down.

For the first time ever, he lost his temper with me, smashing the soup bowl at my feet.

He even demanded that I apologize to Sophia.

I had done nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?

That day, we parted on the worst of terms.

That same afternoon, Liam took Sophia on a business trip to San Francisco, escaping the mess he'd made.

That night, drinking with Olivia, she sighed that I lived my life with too much control.

That, she said, was what allowed a beautiful fool like Sophia to catch Liam's eye.

My mother died when I was young, and my father never remarried. He raised me to be his successor, to shoulder the weight of our entire family.

Feminine weakness was a luxury I couldn't afford; it would only slow me down.

I had held fast to my principles for thirty years.

Why couldn't he?

In the end, the answer was simple. He didn't love me anymore.

And I have no interest in things that no longer belong to me.