**Diary Entry**
*12th June 2024*
“You were a foolcome back!” he begged, seeing how much weight Id lost. But he didnt know I was engaged. 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 passedas if he hadnt thrown me out six months ago for some twenty-year-old fling. As if this were still his flat, and I were just another piece of furniture he could shove aside and then drag back out when convenient.
“Hello, Oliver.” My voice was steady, not a single tremor. I didnt stand, just kept stirring my herbal tea.
“Yeah, hi. Its about the old loansolicitor said it cant be processed without you.” He wouldnt look at me. His gaze wandered over my rented studio, lips curling in disgust as he took in the simple furniture, the stack of books on the windowsill, the cheap wallpaper. Comparing it, no doubt, to the grand house where Id once spent six months picking the perfect shade of paint for the dining room.
“You couldve sent a courier.”
“I wanted to see for myself that you hadnt vanished,” he said, a smirk in his voice. “Still legally responsible for you, after all.”
That phrase*legally responsible*had always been his favourite weapon. It meant I was supposed to grovel in gratitude that he hadnt tossed me out with nothing, that hed *graciously* let me take my old things.
I stood slowly, picked up a pen. I had a first-class economics degree gathering dust in a drawer for ten years because Oliver decided his wife shouldnt work. He built his empire; I was just the decor in the background.
“Where do I sign?”
Thats when he finally looked at me. And froze.
His lazy, dismissive stare sharpened. His eyes dragged over methe tailored black dress, the slim waist, my face no longer puffy from tears. He wasnt seeing the Emily he remembered, the frumpy woman in shapeless jumpers. This was someone else. Calm. Assured. And, as he realised with belated horror, beautiful.
“You” He swallowed. “What happened to you?”
“I started living. For myself.”
He stepped closer. Then again. His eyes held something Id never seen in ten years of marriagepanic. And the greed of a man realising hed tossed out an antique, thinking it was junk.
“Em” he whispered, reaching for my shoulder.
I stepped back.
“Dont.”
His hand hung in the air. His gaze darted over me, over this tiny flat that was *mine*. Hed just realised he hadnt lost a convenient wife. Hed lost an asset. A valuable one.
“You were a foolcome back!” The words tore out of him, strangled.
Not an apology. A demand from a desperate businessman whod just realised hed bungled the deal of a lifetime.
I silently took the folder, flipped to the right page, and signed. Clear. Firm. 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. Just stared, confusion shifting to angerthe fury of a man interrupted mid-game.
“What do you mean, *too late*? Youre my *wife*, Em.”
“*Ex*-wife,” I corrected, setting the papers on the table. “Weve been divorced 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 put these ideas in your head? Youd never think of this yourself.”
Same old song. To him, Id always been the silly little thing, incapable of a single independent thought.
“Its *me*, Oliver. I remembered I have a brain. Started using it.”
“In this dump?” He waved a hand. “*This* is your new life? Em, wake up. That tart meant nothing. Ill forgive it allyour stupidity, your betrayaljust come home.”
He said *betrayal* like it was fact. As if the mere idea I could be with someone else justified his outrage.
Then my phone lit up on the table. A message from *James Whitmore*. Olivers eyes flicked to the screen. His face went slack.
“*Whitmore?* The James Whitmore? CEO of Horizon? Your *boss*?”
I pocketed the phone without explanation.
“Youre sleeping with him?” he hissed. “Trading up, are we? Always knew you were that sort.”
His voice dripped venom. He was scrambling for something, anything, to wound me.
“You have five seconds to leave, Oliver.”
“Or what? Youll call your new sugar daddy? Think hell protect you? Youre *nothing* without me, Em. Just a convenient layfirst for me, now for him.”
I just watched him. Once, Id have cried. Screamed that it wasnt true. Now I waited. My silence infuriated him more than tears ever could.
“Youll come crawling back,” he spat, finally 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 I called James.
“James, hi. He was here. Yes, its fine. See you tonight.”
That evening, James arrived with my favourite cheesecake and a bouquet of roses. He didnt ask questionsjust held me, and the days tension melted away.
Wed met during my interview. Hed personally reviewed candidates for the new project lead. Asked questions not from my CV, but from *me*. 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 took it. Our love grew from late nights at work, from respect and a faith in me that did more than any therapist ever could.
“Em, I need to tell you something,” James said later. “Oliver came to the office today.”
I froze.
“What did he want?”
“To save me from you.” James smiled, but his eyes were cold. “Called you a naïve little gold-digger, said you were just after my money. 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 me. Hed gone to the man I loved and tried to *bargain* for me.
“He said youd regret your choice,” James finished. “That hed find a way to open my eyes.”
Enough.
It wasnt a decisionmore an exhale. A line crossed.
I looked at James, at his steady strength. He waited for my reaction.
“Does his company have a contract with Horizon?”
“Yes. A big oneequipment supply. Ends in two months, but it auto-renews. Hes the frontrunner.”
I nodded. The plan formed instantly. Ruthless. Final.
“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.”
Jamess eyes lit with understanding. Not just defence*devastation*.
Oliver had wanted to shame me, paint me as a kept woman. Instead, Id be the wife of his CEO. And that was just the beginning.
### *The Gala*
The event was at The Shard, all glass and glittering lights. I wore emerald silk. Felt the stares, but they didnt unnerve me anymore.
Oliver was by the bar, laughing too loudly with the CFO. Master of his universe. He hadnt seen me yet.
James and I stepped into the centre of the room. Oliver turned. His smile died. His gaze raked over me, then Jamesand a sneer twisted his lips.
He started towards us. Ready to humiliate me publicly. But James spoke first.
“Friends, colleaguesa personal announcement. Many of you know Emily as our brilliant project lead. But to me, shes far more.” He took my hand. “Shes agreed to be my wife.”
The room erupted in applause. I kept my eyes on Oliver.
His face paled. The sneer vanished, leaving blank shock. The woman hed treated as his shadow would soon bear the name of the man who held his business in his hands.
People swarmed us with congratulations. Oliver stood alone, abandoned even by his drinking buddy. His world was crumbling.
When the crowd thinned, he approached. Looked ten years older.
“Congratulations James
