Chapter 3

Back in our silent penthouse, the city lights felt cold.

Social media was buzzing. "Power couple Jake and Elara Shen weather the storm!" Fawning posts, staged smiles.

Inside Apex Constructors, I knew the silence was different. Knowing.

Flashback: Jake, his face alight with pride, presenting me with a custom-made ergonomic chair. "For your back, Shu-shu. All those late nights supporting my startup."

That chair now sat in his office. Chloe often used it, her feet propped on his desk in her Instagram stories.

Flashback: Finding a vibrant, unfamiliar designer scarf tucked under the passenger seat of Jake's car. He' d laughed it off. "Must be from a client. You know how messy the car gets."

Flashback: Jake' s first small construction business, on the verge of collapse. Me, Han Jingshu back then, using my entire inheritance from my grandparents to bail him out. "We're a team," I'd said.

I realized I hadn't been Elara Han, the architect, for years. I was "Mrs. Apex CEO," a brand extension.

My needs, my health, my career – all secondary to the company's image, to his ambition.

I called my lawyer.

"Sarah, I want to sell my personal properties. The pre-marital ones, and any gifts from Jake that are solely in my name."

"And prepare divorce papers. I want a fifty percent split of all marital assets. Apex was built on my back as much as his."

As if on cue, my phone buzzed. Provocative texts from Chloe. Images of her in our bedroom, wearing Jake's shirt.

I forwarded them to Sarah. "More evidence."

Jake came home late, the apartment dark and cold. I always left lights on, prepared a late-night snack for him.

"Elara? You okay?" He feigned concern, his voice a little slurred.

He looked around. "You didn't call me a hundred times. That's new."

He tried to explain Napa. "It was a necessary evil, Elara. A brand deal. You know how these things are."

I remembered a rare art piece I' d loved, a sculpture by an emerging artist. We were poor then. I' d wanted it so badly.

Jake had held me close. "One day, Shu-shu, I'll buy you a whole gallery."

Now, he bought Chloe watches and threw parties.

"Chloe's new watch is nice," I said, my voice flat.

"Just a discretionary bonus for a hardworking intern," he dismissed, annoyance creeping in. "You're being paranoid."

I was reviewing the draft divorce agreement on my tablet.

He saw the screen. "What the hell is that?"

My calm infuriated him. He couldn't understand why I wasn't screaming, crying, begging.

"You're impossible!" he yelled, then stormed out again, probably back to Chloe.

I signed the digital divorce papers.

Then, I slowly, deliberately, removed my wedding ring. The simple band he' d shown off at the press conference.

It felt surprisingly light in my hand.