That night, Blake didn't come home.
I dropped my son off at school and went into the office as usual.
I'd barely reached my desk when my coworker Leopold Finch sidled up, his face dark with frustration：
“Evelyn, it's just not fair. You broke your back developing product after product for this company, clawed your way up to General Manager, and the second Shelagh Simmons walks in, she gets to drop into your chair? There's no way those two aren't sleeping together.”
My hand froze over the keyboard. I turned to her, blank.
Only after asking around did I get the full picture. Shelagh had started at the company today, and Blake had handed her the General Manager title. Me? He'd bumped me down to team lead in the product division.
On top of that, he'd credited every achievement I'd earned over the years to her.
Blake and I had been married for years. We'd built this company from nothing, side by side. I'd developed products for him nearly every day of the year, no breaks, keeping him miles ahead of the market.
And when I'd simply asked to be promoted from a regular employee to team lead, he'd torn into me.
“Don't think being my wife gets you special treatment. I despise people who want something for nothing. You want a promotion? Show me you've actually earned it.”
“So you developed a few popular products. That's no excuse to play the insider card.”
To avoid any appearance of favoritism, he'd refused to make our relationship public.
At the office, I wasn't allowed within three feet of him.
I couldn't even use his name. It had to be Mr. Sanchez.
I'd assumed he kept work and personal life strictly separate. I never thought twice about it.
But the moment the woman in question was Shelagh, suddenly he didn't mind insiders. Suddenly appearances didn't matter.
Leopold was still venting, but I didn't hear a word of it.
I stood and walked toward the CEO's office.
Inside.
Blake was half-kneeling, gently smoothing stretch-mark oil over Shelagh's belly.
Murmuring sweet nothings I'd never once heard from him：
“Be good, little one. Grow up big and strong, and protect Mommy.”
“But don't give Mommy a hard time, okay? Or Daddy won't love you anymore.”
“Daddy?”
I let out a cold laugh, cutting him off.
“So the child is yours after all.”
Panic flickered through Blake's eyes and vanished. He shot to his feet, brows knitting as he reprimanded me：
“I'm the kid's godfather. What's wrong with calling myself Daddy? Quit with the snide little remarks.”
I swallowed the ache rising in my throat and asked him, my voice flat：
“You're making Shelagh the General Manager? As far as I know, she hasn't worked a single day since she graduated. And you're just handing her the company, that easily?”
Surprised I'd found out so fast, Blake pressed his lips together：
“Shelagh studied management. She's sharp. It'll only take her a few days to get up to speed.”
The whole thing was absurd：
“And what about me? For her sake, you demote me on a whim, take every medal of honor I bled for and pin them on her to make her look good. And you still claim there's nothing between you two.”
“Enough! Are you done?”
Blake's face darkened, his patience gone.
“The workplace is survival of the fittest. I gave her the position because she's more capable than you, plain and simple. Don't go projecting your filthy little theories onto us.”
Shelagh stepped forward, planting herself between us, her eyes brimming with challenge.
“Now, don't go fighting over me.”
“I earned this position on my own merit, sweetie. You're just going to have to accept that there are people in this world who are better than you.”
I was so angry I laughed：
“Fine. Wonderful.”
Something pained flickered in Blake's eyes, but he said nothing.
I pulled out my resignation letter and held it out to him：
“Since you think she's more capable than me, I quit.”
If the job was gone, it was gone. In two more days, I'd be leaving for good anyway.
Blake frowned：
“Will you stop? You think because the product division needs you, you can use that to threaten me? Could you be any more childish?”
Shelagh snatched the resignation letter away and said in that cloying, taunting tone：
“Just sign it, Blake. She's been hanging onto you for years, and she's made enemies of half the industry. Without you, nobody would touch her.”
“She needs a hard lesson. Once she learns how cruel the real world is, that arrogance of hers will finally fade.”
She'd talked him into it. With two quick strokes Blake signed the letter and flung it, pen and all, at my feet.
“Get out.”
