Nina Sullivan released ten rare gold-tipped fish into the company pond—for her assistant, Brandon Quinn.

When I found out, I was furious.

She didn’t even flinch. Rolling her eyes, she snapped, “Brandon’s parents are seriously ill. We just released a few rare gold-tipped fish to pray for blessings. Do you really have to be so petty?”

I let out a bitter laugh and tossed the divorce papers onto the table.

Her eyes widened. “Michael, are you out of your mind?”

“All this over a few stupid fish? They weren’t even that expensive! You’re divorcing me because of that?”

My voice turned to ice. “This marriage is over.”

——

“You’re unbelievable!” she shot back. “I’m on my way to visit Brandon’s parents in the hospital. If you have something to say, save it for when I get back.”

She hung up.

No apology.

No remorse.

I stood before the massive office aquarium—now empty. My chest tightened.

I had only been gone for a few days on business. And this—this was the welcome I came home to.

Ten rare gold-tipped fish. Gone. Each one rare. Irreplaceable.

The security footage nearly made me nauseous. Nina and Brandon, laughing as they scooped them out and released them into the river like it was some kind of romantic outing.

I called her more than ten times. She didn’t answer a single one.

Then, Brandon updated his Instagram.

Two photos.

One: him and Nina at the riverside, hands intertwined as they released the rare gold-tipped fish.

Two: the two of them standing beside a hospital bed, smiling softly, fingers still laced together.

To the outside world, they looked like lovers.

His caption:

“Grateful for you. May this moment last forever.”

I commented:

“Lovers finally get married—congratulations.”

And added:

“Tell Nina to come sign the divorce papers. I’ll be waiting at the office.”

Minutes later, my phone rang.

“Michael, are you insane?” Her voice was sharp with fury. “What the hell did you comment on Brandon’s Instagram? Delete it right now or I swear—”

“I’ve drafted the divorce agreement,” I cut her off. “Come sign it.”

Then I ended the call.

Half an hour later, Nina stormed into my office, face dark with rage. Brandon trailed behind, playing the wounded saint.

The staff pretended not to stare.

She marched straight to my desk and slammed her palm down. “Enough, Michael!” she hissed. “Do you know how much trouble your stupid comment caused Brandon? Apologize to him. Now.”

Brandon gave me a look—half meek, half smug.

“Mr. Sterling,” he said gently, “I never meant to cause any misunderstandings. My parents have been urging me to settle down. Miss Sullivan was just trying to cheer them up, that’s all.”

“She only pretended to be with me so they wouldn’t worry. I’m truly sorry if—”

Before he could finish, Nina turned to him and smiled tenderly.

“Why are you apologizing? You did nothing wrong.”

Then her expression hardened as she looked back at me.

“I’m so done with your jealousy, Michael. You’ve always been this way—petty, insecure, controlling.”

“If you don’t apologize to Brandon today, I’ll never forgive you!”

Nina stood unwavering behind him, her posture fierce, her expression unyielding.

Beside her, Brandon lifted his chin, arrogance radiating off him in waves. Her support had become his armor—each glance she threw his way only made his smirk more intolerable.

I looked at her—this woman who once meant the world to me. Strong, sharp, distant. A stranger.

Maybe she’d always been this way. Maybe I just refused to see it.

Things began unraveling the moment Brandon joined the company as her assistant. The warmth in her eyes when she looked at me disappeared overnight. The soft touches, the lingering glances—gone. Every ounce of affection she once gave me now belonged to him.

And what was left for me?

Coldness.

Disdain.

Impatience.

Still, I tried. I bent until I nearly broke—swallowed my pride, endured her moods, convinced myself she was just going through a phase. That maybe she’d remember the love we once shared.

But nothing changed.

Nina knew I loved her. Knew I’d do anything for her. She thought that meant I’d stay, no matter what.

But love is not a leash. And I’m done.

Done with the humiliation.

Done pretending this marriage is something it hasn’t been in a long time.

Done fighting for someone who never planned to stay.

The rare gold-tipped fish were the final straw.

Ten priceless rare gold-tipped fish. Released without hesitation. A legacy thrown away for a man who didn’t even flinch.

I took a breath, steady and sure, and pulled out the divorce agreement. I laid it on the desk between us.

"Sign it." My voice was quiet. Flat.

She stared at me as if I’d struck her. Shock flickered across her face, quickly drowned by fury.

"Say that again, Michael!"

I met her eyes. "I want a divorce."

Gasps echoed from the hallway. The staff who had been quietly listening couldn’t hide their reactions any longer.

Her face flushed with rage. She slammed her palm on the desk.

"Over some rare gold-tipped fish? Are you insane?"

"You’re acting like a child. Grow up."

Before I could answer, Brandon stepped forward, voice thick with rehearsed guilt.

"Mr. Sterling, we only released the rare gold-tipped fish to pray for my parents’ health. If it means that much to you, I can go to the market and replace them."

He sniffled. Eyes glistening. "You’ve always had something against me. You’re only doing this to force Ms. Su to fire me."

"Don’t worry—I’ll resign today. I won’t come between you two again."

It was laughable. A grown man playing the wounded martyr.

But it worked.

Nina turned to me, her expression ice-cold.

"You think threatening me with divorce will make me cave?"

Her voice sharpened, venom-laced. "Where do you think you’ll go without me, Michael? You’ll regret this. I’ll be waiting when you come crawling back."

Without waiting for my reply, she snatched up the divorce papers and flipped through them with practiced indifference.

Then she signed.

"The cooling-off period is one month. I’ll see you at the County Clerk’s Office. Don’t be a coward and back out."

She threw the papers back at me. Her eyes were full of disdain.

"And after the divorce, you leave with nothing."

"My father’s heirloom? You’re not keeping it. Return it. It belongs to me."

I said nothing. Just looked past her—at the empty tank that once held so much more than she could ever understand.

She had no idea.

The heirloom she wanted back wasn’t jewelry. It wasn’t property.

It was the rare gold-tipped fish.

Ten rare gold-tipped fish, entrusted to me by her father before he passed. He had pulled me aside that day, voice low and grave.

"Don’t ever tell her what they’re worth," he had said. "She won’t understand. She’ll ruin them."

He had known his daughter far too well.

And now, what he feared had come to pass.

She had destroyed the very thing she was trying to reclaim—without ever realizing it.

My father-in-law and mother-in-law had placed their full trust in me. Before they passed, they asked only one thing: take care of the rare gold-tipped fish.

Those ten fish weren’t just rare—they were insurance for Sullivan Corporation. If Nina ever ran into trouble running the company—if the capital chain broke or the business suffered losses—selling the rare gold-tipped fish could pull the company back from the brink.

Their value? Two hundred million.

But now, that lifeline was gone. Wasted.

Nina didn’t hesitate. The moment she signed the divorce agreement, she stood in the middle of the office and declared, loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Starting today, Michael is relieved of all duties in the company.”

Then, as if rubbing salt in the wound:

“The position of Vice President will be temporarily taken over by Brandon.”

Gasps spread through the office like wildfire. The employees looked around in disbelief.

Brandon? That smug expression on his face—like he’d just won the lottery. He shot me a mocking glance, triumphant.

I didn’t say a word. Just walked out of the building, planning to drive home. But before I could get in the car, the head of security jogged over, looking awkward.

“Mr. Sterling… Miss Sullivan just called. She said… you’re no longer permitted to use any company vehicles.”

I paused, then let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Of course.

Since marrying Nina, nothing—no property, no car, no real estate—had ever been registered under my name. After all, I had been the one to "marry in."

I tossed the car keys to the security captain and walked out of the parking lot. I hailed a taxi and headed back toward the villa.

But when I arrived at the gates of the community, I was stopped again—this time by the residential security.

The property manager was already waiting. His eyes flickered with discomfort as he said, cautiously, “Mr. Sterling… Miss Sullivan just called. She asked us to cancel your facial recognition access.”

“I’m really sorry. Without her authorization, we can’t let you in.”

He hesitated, then added, “Did you and Miss Sullivan have a fight? Maybe you could call her and explain?”

Cruel. That was the only word for her.

Just as I stood there, letting it all sink in, my phone rang.

Nina’s voice came through, cold and commanding:

“Michael, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”

“As long as you return to the company now, apologize to Brandon in front of everyone, and write a written apology of no less than 8,000 words… I’ll forgive you.”

I cut her off mid-sentence. My voice was calm. Flat.

“No need. I’m divorcing you.”

Then I hung up.

I could imagine her face twisting in rage on the other end of the line.

Sure enough, not long after, Sullivan Corporation released an official statement:

Nina and I had signed a divorce agreement. Brandon would be promoted to Vice President.

The internet erupted. Social media lit up with speculation:

“Wait—Nina and Michael are divorced? No way!”

“Weren’t they madly in love just two years ago?”

“I remember their wedding—it was huge. And now, just like that, they split?”

“What happened? Did someone cheat?”

“I saw Nina out shopping with some guy a while ago... they looked pretty close.”

“No way. You must’ve mistaken her for someone else. Nina’s not that kind of woman.”

But the real storm came right after.

Suddenly, the internet was flooded with smears about me—claims I had bullied classmates in school, that I’d been disloyal in the marriage, that I was a manipulative hypocrite hiding behind a polished façade.

It was obvious someone was orchestrating it—dragging my name through the mud, trying to bury me in it.

Even without thinking, I knew who was behind it.

Nina and Brandon.