**Diary Entry**
“You were a foolcome back!” he pleaded, seeing how thin Id become. But he didnt knowI was getting married. To his own boss.
“I need your signature,” Oliver said, tossing a folder onto my kitchen table the moment he stepped inside.
He acted as if six months hadnt passed since hed thrown me out for his new twenty-year-old fling. As if this were still *his* flat, and I were just another piece of furniture he could discard and reclaim at will.
“Hello, Oliver.”
My voice was steady, not a single tremor. I didnt rise from my seat, still stirring honey into my chamomile tea.
“Yeah, hi. Its about the old mortgage. The solicitor said we cant move forward without you.”
He wouldnt look at me. His gaze roamed my rented studio with open disdainthe thrift-store furniture, the stack of books on the windowsill, the cheap wallpaper. Comparing it to the sprawling Surrey home where Id once spent six months agonising over paint swatches for the lounge.
“You couldve sent a courier.”
“I wanted to see for myself you hadnt vanished,” he said, a smirk creeping in. “After all, Im still responsible for you.”
That phrase*responsible for you*had always been his favourite weapon. It meant I should be eternally grateful he hadnt tossed me onto the streets penniless, that hed *graciously* let me take my old things.
I stood slowly. Picked up the pen. Ten years ago, Id graduated top of my class in economics. My degree had gathered dust in a drawer because Oliver decided his wife shouldnt work. He built his empire while I arranged his home.
“Where do I sign?”
Thats when he finally looked at me. And froze.
His lazy, dismissive gaze sharpened, raking over methe sleek black dress that fitted perfectly, the waist he could nearly circle with his hands, the face no longer swollen from crying. He wasnt seeing the Emily he rememberedthe frumpy, defeated woman in shapeless jumpers. This was someone else. Calm. Assured. And, as he realised with a belated jolt, beautiful.
“You” he swallowed. “What happened to you?”
“I started living, Oliver. For myself.”
He took a step forward. Then another. His eyes held something Id never seen in ten years of marriagepanic. The greed of a collector realising hed thrown away a priceless antique.
“Em” he whispered, reaching for my shoulder.
I stepped back.
“Dont.”
His hand hung in the air. His eyes darted over my face, my figure, this tiny flat that was *mine*. He understood, suddenly, that he hadnt just lost a convenient wife. Hed lost an asset. A valuable one.
“You were a foolcome back!” The words burst out in a strangled rasp.
It wasnt remorse. It was the order of a desperate businessman whod just realised hed botched the deal of a lifetime.
Silently, I flipped the folder open to the right page and signed. Clear. Unwavering. New.
“Its too late to change anything, Oliver.”
I held out the documents.
“Your solicitor was right. You *did* need me. Now please, leave.”
He didnt take them. He stared at me, confusion twisting into angerthe fury of a man interrupted mid-game.
“What do you mean, *too late*? Youre my wife, Emily.”
“*Ex*-wife,” I corrected, setting the folder on the tables edge. “Weve been divorced three months.”
“Thats just paperwork! Ten years doesnt vanish with one signature!”
He paced my shoebox kitchen like a caged animal. His expensive leather shoes looked absurd here.
“Who is it? Whos put these ideas in your head? Youd never think of this yourself.”
Same old tune. To him, Id always been the “silly little wife,” incapable of a single independent thought.
“It *is* me, Oliver. I remembered I have a brain. And Ive been using it.”
“In *this* dump?” He gestured wildly. “*This* is your new life? Emily, wake up. That fling meant nothing. I can forgive ityour stupidity, your betrayaljust come home.”
He spat *betrayal* like it was fact. As if the mere idea of me with another man justified his outrage.
Then my phone lit up on the table. A message from Daniel Whitmore. Olivers gaze flicked to the screen. His face hardened.
“*Whitmore*? *The* Daniel Whitmore? CEO of Horizon? Your *boss*?”
I pocketed the phone without explanation.
“Youre sleeping with him, arent you?” he hissed. “Trading up? I *knew* you were capable of this!”
Venom dripped from his voice. He needed to wound me.
“You have five seconds to leave, Oliver.”
“Or what? Youll call your new *sugar daddy*? Think hell protect you? Without me, youre nothing, Emily. Just a convenient layfirst for me, now for him.”
I said nothing. Once, Id have sobbed. Screamed that it wasnt true. Now, my silence infuriated him more than tears ever could.
“Youll crawl back,” he snapped, snatching the folder. “When hes done with you. And I wont take you.”
The door slammed behind him.
I waited, listening to his footsteps fade, then dialled Daniel.
“Daniel, hi. He was here. Yes, Im fine. See you tonight.”
That evening, Daniel arrived with my favourite cheesecake and an armful of peonies. He didnt pryjust held me, and the days tension melted away.
Wed met during my interview. Hed personally vetted candidates for the project lead role, asking questions not from my CV but from *me*. Hed seen not a discarded wife but a mind left dormant for a decade.
He gave me a chance. I seized it. Our love grew from late nights at work, from respecta balm more healing than any therapy.
“Emily, I need to tell you something. Oliver came to my office today.”
I froze, teacup in hand.
“What did he want?”
“To save me from you.” Daniels smile didnt reach his eyes. “Said you were a naïve fool, a gold-digger. Offered to settle this man-to-mantake you back, spare me the trouble.”
Something inside me snapped. The last thread to my past. He hadnt just insulted mehed gone to the man I loved and tried to reduce me to a bargaining chip.
“He said youd regret your choice,” Daniel finished. “That hed open my eyes.”
Enough.
It wasnt a decision, just an exhalethe understanding that half-measures were over. Hed crossed a line.
I met Daniels steady gaze. He waited for my reaction.
“Does his company have a contract with Horizon?”
“Yes. A major oneequipment supply. It renews automatically in two months. His firms the frontrunner.”
I nodded. The plan crystallised instantly.
“The corporate gala next weekall the senior partners will be there? Olivers invited?”
“Naturally.”
“Perfect.” I pushed my cup aside, smiling for the first time that evening. “Thats where well announce our engagement.”
Daniels eyes flashed with understandingnot defence, but retaliation.
“He wanted to shame me, paint me as a kept woman,” I said. “Instead, Ill be his bosss wife. And its only the beginning. He dreamed Id crawl backnow *hell* be the one queueing to congratulate me.”
The gala was held in a rooftop restaurant overlooking London. I wore emerald silk. Eyes followed me, but they didnt unsettle me anymore.
I spotted Oliver immediately. Preening by the bar, chatting up the CFO. The master of his domain. He hadnt seen me yet.
Daniel and I stepped into the centre of the room. Oliver turned. His smile faltered. His gaze slid from me to Danieland a sneer twisted his lips.
He started toward us, ready to humiliate me publicly. But Daniel raised a hand, calling for silence.
“Friends, colleaguesId like to share some personal news. Many of you know Emily as our brilliant project lead. But to me, shes much more. This week, she agreed to become my wife.”
The room erupted in applause. I watched Oliver.
His face drained of colour. His sneer vanished, replaced by stunned disbelief. The woman hed considered his shadow would soon bear the name of the man who held his entire business in his hands.
Guests swarmed us with congratulations. Oliver stood alone, abandoned even by his drinking buddy. His
