Chapter 1

The fifty-million-dollar deal closed with a digital handshake on screen, the client' s smiling face beaming from halfway across the country.

My team, the Trailblazers, erupted in cheers behind me in the Innovatech Solutions open-plan office.

This was big, even for us.

I leaned back in my chair, a rare smile on my own face.

Jess, my wife and the CEO of Innovatech, rushed over, her eyes bright.

"Mike! You did it! Fifty million!"

She hugged me tight, a genuine, happy hug that reminded me of the early days.

"I knew you could pull it off, honey. There' s a special bonus coming your way for this, a really special one."

Her voice was a conspiratorial whisper, full of promise.

Later, as the office quieted, she strolled to my desk, a playful glint in her eyes.

She grabbed a black Sharpie from my pen holder.

"Close your eyes," she said, her voice teasing.

I did, a flicker of anticipation despite myself.

I felt the drag of the marker on my wrist.

"Okay, open!"

I looked down. She' d drawn a crude, cartoonish luxury watch on my skin.

"Honey, Innovatech's cash flow is a little tight this quarter, you know, with all the expansion," she said, her smile a bit too bright. "I'll get you a real one next year, I promise!"

The promise felt thin, like the cheap ink on my skin. Disappointment settled, a familiar weight.

I forced a smile. "Sure, Jess. Next year."

I loved her, or at least, I'd loved the woman she used to be, deeply. I'd been patient with her ambition, her flaws, but my self-worth wasn't infinite. There was a breaking point.

That evening, scrolling through Instagram at our condo, a post from Liam Walker' s private account popped up.

Someone, probably a disgruntled colleague, must have shared it or he'd accidentally made it public.

The photo showed Jess, beaming, handing Liam the keys to a brand-new, company-leased Porsche Taycan.

The car gleamed under showroom lights.

Liam' s caption read: "To the one who truly deserves it. Real love means exclusive pampering. #BestBoss #Blessed."

My heart didn' t break, it just went cold, numb. Humiliation burned my face.

I stared at the picture, at Jess' s radiant smile for him, a smile I hadn' t seen directed at me in years.

Silently, I tapped the heart icon. I 'liked' the post.

The next morning, Liam' s Instagram post was the only thing anyone at Innovatech was talking about.

The comments section was a warzone of sarcastic praise for Liam' s "stellar contributions" and thinly veiled outrage.

My phone rang. Jess. Her voice was frantic, high-pitched.

"Mike! Mike, thank God. Listen, don't misunderstand about that car, okay?"

I said nothing.

"The Porsche, it' s a motivational tool! For top new talent! Liam is... he' s a rising star! It' s a company asset, strictly for business development!"

Her excuses tumbled out, flimsy and desperate.

"Please, Mike, you have to unlike that post. And tell everyone it' s just a big misunderstanding, a joke that got out of hand. If you do this for me, Mike, I promise... I promise we can finally start trying for that baby you' ve always wanted. This year. We can start this year."

The baby. The one thing I' d wanted more than anything, a dream she' d dangled and deferred for years.

Another too-good-to-be-true promise. I was tired. So incredibly tired.

"No need, Jess," I said, my voice flat, devoid of the anger she probably expected. "Let's just get a divorce."