My Bitter Brew: A CEO's Regret

For seven years, I poured my life into Artisan Ales, brewing the beer that built our empire, secretly married to its co-founder and CEO, Chloe. Tonight, at our success party, I expected her to finally announce us, our shared journey, our partnership. Instead, she introduced a fresh-faced intern, Liam, giving him full credit for my life' s work-my signature IPA-and beaming as he winked at her, publicly erasing me from our story. My stomach clenched as applause erupted, not for us, but for Chloe and her new "power duo" with Liam. Later, as she fretted over Liam's fake migraine, Chloe tossed me a cheap, flimsy watch-a pathetic imitation of the expensive one she bought him-an insult that cut deeper than any public slight. "Don't be dramatic," she sighed, dismissing our secret marriage as an inconvenience, solidifying her betrayal. How could the woman who promised "us" and believed in my beer, now treat me like an obsolete relic, a disposable part of her ruthless ambition? The overwhelming feeling wasn't anger, but a hollow, cold emptiness where our shared dreams used to be, replaced by a bitter taste of ash. As the cheap watch ticked, reminding me of my worth in her eyes, a new, chilling resolve set in: I would not just leave, I would reclaim everything that was truly mine. Picking up my phone, I dialed the only other person who truly valued my craft, prepared to cut the cord, not just from the company, but from Chloe for good.