Brittany snuggled into Caleb's arms, her voice sickeningly sweet.

"I just don't want our COO to feel overworked."

Caleb snorted.

"It's her job. She's been doing god-knows-what all day and even abandoned her post. Making her finish this project is the least she can do."

With a single sentence, he dismissed all my contributions as worthless.

In the past, I might have argued. But I knew now that no matter what I said, in Caleb's eyes, it would just be another excuse.

I was numb. I wouldn't waste my breath.

Sensing my lack of response, Caleb mistook my silence for guilt, and his tone softened condescendingly.

"Nora, this isn't just a job; it's a chance for you to prove yourself. If you can't deliver impressive results, how can you expect to command respect as the COO? Look at Brittany. She was up until three in the morning on this proposal. She has more vision and a better work ethic than you. If you don't step up and solidify your position, she'll replace you before you know it."

Brittany let out a soft, tinkling laugh beside him.

"I'm not that amazing. Nora must have her own exceptional qualities to be COO. Otherwise, why would you have chosen her?"

Caleb scoffed.

"I'd be grateful if she were half as agreeable as you. You're the one who's been identifying all our best investment opportunities this year. This company would be lost without you."

Their carefree laughter crackled through the receiver.

I said nothing. I didn't fight back.

My performance reports were there in black and white for anyone to see. Caleb knew it, too; he simply chose to ignore it.

After seven years together, he was convinced that no matter what he did, I would always forgive him for the sake of our history.

"Alright," Caleb said, his voice brisk again. "Brittany and I have a meeting with a fund manager tonight. Don't drag your feet. Get that proposal finalized as soon as possible."

He hung up before I could reply.

Less than two minutes later, a new post from Brittany popped up on my Instagram feed.

The photo showed two hands clasped tightly over a yacht's railing, with clinking champagne glasses blurred in the background.

I immediately recognized the Patek Philippe watch.

One of those hands belonged to Caleb.

I scrolled down.

Brittany's previous post was from four in the morning. She and Caleb were at a poker table in the Monte Carlo Casino, with towering stacks of chips in front of them.

So, this was what Caleb called "work."

A lavish date.

I let out a bitter laugh. Why bother confronting him? I already knew exactly how it would play out. Even if I threw the evidence in his face, he would twist the facts, invent a dozen excuses, and somehow turn it all back on me, leading to another round of the silent treatment.

And every time, I was the one who caved first.

I went to an art gallery and bought the abstract painting I had long admired. If I was starting a new life, my new apartment would need a splash of color.

I had just gotten home when my phone pinged.

It was a payment notification from the family trust fund.

Caleb had once again used our joint funds to purchase a three-million-dollar penthouse.

Logically, as CEO of the Hayes Group, Caleb was by no means short of money and had no reason to touch my prenuptial assets.

But early in his career, he had seduced investors with his carefully crafted "self-made" image. He preached frugality and publicly condemned extravagance, earning the board's unwavering trust. That persona was the cornerstone of his power, and he had to maintain it at all costs.

To prevent anyone from tracing his personal spending, almost all his luxury expenses were paid out of our joint family trust.

I once believed our family was a joint effort, so I never fussed over it.

But recently, I realized Caleb wasn't just using the money for necessities. He bought sports cars and luxury watches. Worse, he frequently used this money to buy gifts for Brittany.

From a multi-million-dollar penthouse to a Porsche worth hundreds of thousands, it was all paid for with our shared assets.

Yet for all these years, my clothes were always from last season, and it never occurred to him to buy me anything new. The gifts he gave me were always just roses from the flower shop downstairs from the company.

When I confronted him, his excuse was always the same: as CEO, his image was everything, and by extension, those around him couldn't look cheap.

Yes, Caleb successfully maintained his pristine, "self-made" image.

But every time he bought a luxury item, he paid for it using our joint trust fund. This led everyone to believe that I was the one who bought those expensive things.

As a result, I became the "gold digger" in everyone's eyes, drowned in an endless stream of accusations.

"Caleb won't even buy himself a decent watch, but she's spending his money like it's water. Haven't you heard? She even bought a limited-edition Ferrari."

"I knew Nora was only with Caleb for his money. A classic gold digger."

"Poor Caleb, stuck with such a spendthrift wife."

I begged Caleb to clear my name, to tell the truth, but he always refused. Protecting his corporate image, he argued, was more important.

"Nora, you understand. Managing a public company means maintaining a public image. What would happen if the board members found out I'm not the kind of CEO they imagined? For the sake of the company, what's a little blame on your shoulders? It's not a big deal."

So I was supposed to be his scapegoat, just so he could maintain his precious image.

After I brought it up one too many times, Caleb grew impatient. He accused me of being unreasonable and making a mountain out of a molehill. He threatened me with another cold war and finally swore on his life he'd never touch a cent of my prenuptial assets again.

Even so, I tried to call him.

He didn't pick up after more than a dozen calls.

Fine. I didn't hesitate. I called my family wealth manager and demanded an immediate freeze on Caleb’s access to the trust fund.

Less than a minute later, my phone rang.

"I was just talking to a fund manager and missed your calls," Caleb said, his voice feigning innocence. "Is something wrong?"

I replied calmly, "No, everything's fine."

"There's an issue with the trust fund's authorization; it's been frozen," he said, getting straight to the point.

"Oh, I know. I froze it," I said, choosing honesty.

Caleb's fury was immediate. "Are you insane? Why would you freeze the fund for no reason?"

"It's nothing. I just don't plan on using that money anymore. Besides, what does this have to do with you? Didn't you swear you'd never touch my prenuptial assets again?"

Caleb fell silent.

In the past, no matter how much money was involved, I had never questioned him.

When Caleb first started the company, it was a small, struggling startup. I invested my entire savings as his seed money, allowing him to pursue projects and expand.

Back then, he was overwhelmed with gratitude. He'd held my hands, tears welling in his eyes, swearing he would cherish me for the rest of his life and never betray me.

I believed him. I thought it would only strengthen our bond, never imagining it would fuel his future, shameless exploitation of me.

Caleb didn't dwell on that. After a two-second silence, he sighed and launched into his usual self-righteous lecture.

"Nora, you're throwing a tantrum again. Just because I didn't take you to Paris, you're retaliating like this, aren't you? As my wife, can't you be a little less narrow-minded? How am I supposed to trust you with the company?"

"Fine, I promise I'll take you on vacation next time, alright? I didn't bring the company credit card on this trip. Unfreeze the fund first; the sponsorship fee for this dinner is very important to me. Stop acting like a spoiled child. I'm giving you ten minutes. If that fund isn't unfrozen, I will make you regret it at the next board meeting."

He was using threats to force my compliance, his usual tactic.

In the past, I would have caved the moment I heard that edge in his voice. But he never understood that I wasn't afraid of his anger; I just didn't want to add to his burdens when he was already stressed about the company.

But in his eyes, my consideration was weakness. So he used it against me, time and time again.

This time, I would not give in.

"Isn't Brittany your star assistant? Didn't she budget for this little jaunt? Sounds like her professional skills aren't so stellar after all. Since this trip was for her benefit, it's only fair she foots the bill."

With that, I hung up and continued packing my personal belongings.