“I was a fool, come back!” the man begged, seeing how much weight Id lost. 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 no time had passed since hed thrown me out six months ago for his new twenty-year-old fling. As if this were still his flat, and I were just a piece of furniture he could temporarily remove and then slot back into place.
“Hello, Oliver.”
My voice was steady, not a single tremble. I didnt rise, just kept stirring my herbal tea with a spoon.
“Yeah, hi. Its about the old loan. The solicitor said we cant sort it without you.”
He didnt look at me. His gaze wandered around my rented studio flat with open disdainthe simple furniture, the stack of books on the windowsill, the cheap wallpaper. Comparing it to the sprawling house where Id once spent six months agonising over paint swatches for the living room.
“You couldve sent a courier.”
“I wanted to make sure you hadnt vanished completely,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “After all, Im still responsible for you.”
That phrase, *responsible for me*, had always been his favourite weapon. It meant I should be eternally grateful he hadnt tossed me onto the street penniless, that hed *graciously* allowed me to take my old things.
I stood slowly. Picked up the pen. I had a first-class economics degree gathering dust for a decade because Oliver had decided his wife shouldnt work. He built his empire while I played homemaker in his shadow.
“Where do I sign?”
That was when he finally looked up. And froze.
His lazy, dismissive gaze sharpened suddenly as it slid over methe tailored black dress that fit perfectly, the slim waist, the face no longer puffy from tears or twisted in resentment.
He wasnt seeing the Emily he remembered. Not the frumpy, defeated woman in a shapeless dressing gown. This was someone else. Calm. Assured. And, as he realised with belated horrorbeautiful.
“You” He swallowed. “What happened to you?”
“I started living for myself, Oliver.”
He took a step toward me. Then another. His eyes held something Id never seen in ten years of marriagepanic. And the greed of a man whod just realised hed thrown out something precious.
“Emily” 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 was realising, too late, that he hadnt just lost a convenient wife. Hed lost an assetone hed foolishly written off.
“I was a fool, come back!” The words burst out of him, strangled.
It wasnt an apology. It was the order of a desperate businessman whod just realised hed bungled the deal of a lifetime.
Silently, I took the folder. Flipped to the right page and signedclear, firm. My new signature.
“Its too late to change anything now, 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 in his eyes shifting to 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 edge of the table. “Weve been divorced for three months.”
“Thats just paperwork! Ten years doesnt vanish with a signature!”
He paced my tiny kitchen like a caged animal, his designer shoes absurd against the linoleum.
“Who is it? Whos gotten into your head? Youd never have thought of this yourself.”
Same old tune. To him, Id always been the silly little woman who couldnt think for herself.
“This was *me*, Oliver. I remembered I have a brain. And I started using it.”
“In this *hovel*?” He gestured around. “*This* is your new life? Emily, wake up. That fling meant nothing. I could forgive youyour stupidity, your betrayaljust come home.”
He spat *betrayal* like it was fact. As if the mere idea of me with someone else justified his outrage.
At that moment, my phone lit up on the table. A message from Daniel Whitmore. Olivers eyes flicked to the screen. His face went rigid.
“Whitmore? *The* Daniel Whitmore? CEO of Horizon? Your *boss*?”
I pocketed the phone without a word.
“Youre sleeping with him?” he hissed. “Trading favours for promotions? I always knew you were capable of this!”
His voice dripped venom. He needed to hurt me, to claw back control.
“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 just watched him. A year ago, Id have sobbed. Screamed that it wasnt true. Now, I waited. My calm infuriated him more than tears ever could.
“Youll come crawling back,” he snapped, finally grabbing 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 I took out my phone and dialed.
“Daniel, hi. He was here. Yes, Im fine. See you tonight.”
That evening, Daniel arrived with my favourite cheesecake and a bouquet of peonies. He didnt pressjust held me, and the days tension ebbed away.
Wed met during my job interview. Hed personally reviewed candidates for the new project lead role. He asked questions not from my CV, but from insight.
He saw in my eyes not the despair of a discarded wife, but a decade of locked-away intellect.
He gave me a chance, and I seized it. Our love grew from late nights at the office, from respect and belief in memore healing than any therapist.
“Emily, I need to tell you something. Oliver came to the office today.”
I stilled, teacup in hand.
“What did he want?”
“To save me from you.” Daniel smiled, but his eyes were cold. “Rambled about how you were a naive fool, manipulated by your cunning boss. Said you were a gold-digger. Offered to settle this man-to-mantake you back, spare me the trouble.”
As he spoke, something inside me snapped. The last thread tying me to the past. Oliver hadnt just insulted mehed gone to the man I loved and tried to reduce me to a transaction.
“He said youd regret your choice,” Daniel finished. “That hed find a way to open my eyes.”
Enough.
It wasnt a decision so much as an exhale. The understanding that half-measures were over. Hed crossed a line.
I looked at Danielat his steady, strong face. He waited for my reaction.
“Does his company have a contract with Horizon?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. A big oneequipment supply. Its up in two months, but auto-renewals standard. Hes the lead contender.”
I nodded. The plan formed instantlyfinal, irrevocable.
“The corporate event next weekall the execs and key partners will be there? Olivers invited?”
“Of course.”
“Perfect.” I pushed my cup aside, smiling for the first time that evening. “Thats where well announce our engagement.”
Daniels surprise turned to admiration. He understood. This wasnt just defense. This was a counterstrike.
“He wanted to humiliate me, paint me as your mistress,” I said. “Instead, Ill be your wife. And its only the beginning. He dreamed Id crawl backinstead, *hell* queue up to congratulate me.”
The event was held in a rooftop restaurant, all glass and city lights. I wore emerald silk. Felt eyes on me but didnt flinch.
I spotted Oliver instantly. By the bar, schmoozing the CFOking of his world. He hadnt seen me yet.
Daniel and I stepped into the center of the room. Oliver turned. His smile faltered. His gaze swept over me, then Danieland a sneer curled his lips.
He started toward us, ready to humiliate me publicly. But he was too late.
Daniel raised a hand for silence.
“Friends, colleaguesId like to share some personal news. Many of you know Emily as our brilliant project lead. But to me, shes far more. This
