“Congratulations to Mr. Archie Branson on returning home after completing his studies abroad.”
Margaux navigated through the crowd, arm in arm with Archie, looking the perfect host in a dark, intricately patterned gown. The chandelier above them cast a gentle glow that illuminated the matching rings on Archie’s finger—rings from the Queen’s Auction. Rare. Exclusive. Priceless.
And not meant for me.
Even though I had already accepted that her love was never truly mine, a dull pressure still tightened in my chest. It was an old wound, but seeing that ring brought the ache back as if it had never left.
I remembered the day I once tried it on.
The ring had barely slid onto my finger before Margaux’s eyes locked onto me, her face twisted in outrage. She stormed over, grabbed my wrist like she’d just caught me cheating, her grip so tight her hand shook.
“Take it off. Now,” Margaux snapped.
Startled, I fumbled to pull it off and placed it carefully back in the safe.
My voice came out defensive and confused. “I was just trying it on. That’s all.”
Her expression didn’t soften at all. In fact, it got colder. “Haven’t I told you not to touch my things? Try it again, and don’t blame me when I lose it.”
After that day, the safe’s password and the lock on her office door were changed. Back then, I couldn’t understand it. It was just a ring, right? We were married. Why couldn’t I wear it, even for a second?
But I get it now.
That ring was never mine. It had always been meant for someone else.
It had been waiting for him. For Archie.
That ring wasn’t a symbol of our marriage. It was her promise to him.
And now, it had finally found its way to where it was always supposed to be.
...
The music faded, and Margaux led Archie up to the ceremonial stage. They moved in sync, effortless, like they’d been rehearsing their whole lives.
She took the mic with a practiced smile.
“Today marks Mr. Archie Branson’s return after completing his studies abroad. I’m pleased to officially announce that he will be stepping into the role of Vice President at Novastar Group, with a twenty percent equity stake.”
She paused, letting the crowd soak that in before she continued, “And as a gesture of appreciation for his decision to join the company, I’ll also be transferring ownership of Starlight Heights to him.”
Exactly as expected, a hostess approached with a silver tray. Margaux extended her hand, removed the black silk cover, and unveiled a property deed—a rich crimson folder shining under the stage lights.
The room buzzed like a kicked beehive:
“Miss Haywood is insane. A company stake and a luxury villa? That’s real power.”
“Starlight Heights alone is worth billions. She’s not just generous—she’s making a statement.”
“Come on, everyone knows Miss Haywood’s heart was always with Archie. This just seals it.”
The comments rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
I could feel the weight of a hundred stares landing on me.
Some were pitiful, some amused, but most of them just wanted a good show.
Just in time, Gerard entered, his jaw tight.
He fixed me with a look and spoke low: “See that? He walks in and leaves with billions. You’re still here talking about divorce. If you’ve got energy to sulk, spend it getting Margaux back. When she kicks you out, don’t come crawling to us. We don’t carry dead weight.”
I just smiled faintly and looked down at my phone.
A video had just come in.
“You’re right, Gerard,” I said. “I stand corrected.”
Meanwhile, on stage, Margaux and Archie looked at each other with the warmth and longing I once dreamed she would show me. She handed him the deed and leaned in for a kiss.
The moment felt soft and intimate. It didn’t seem staged and appeared genuine.
As Archie mentioned, a woman’s spending often follows where her love resides.
He had hardly landed back in the Metropolis when she already presented him with equity and property worth billions. If he stayed longer, Novastar Group might also become his.
But then, none of it had anything to do with me.
Six years of marriage got me nothing. No shares. No assets. Not even a house key in my name. Just a bed to sleep in and cold leftovers on the table.
When the ceremony ended, Archie strolled over, looking relaxed, while carrying a black gift box, smiling like we were all old friends.
“Troy,” he said, light and breezy. “Thanks for showing up to my homecoming party. I got you something.”
I took the box. Part of me was just curious. If he’d walked all the way over here himself, it had to be deliberate.
I flipped it open.
My heart skipped a beat.
Inside, there was a used condom. It was still wet. The stench hit me immediately—sharp, sour, and disgusting.
It was vile.
Archie leaned in, close enough for his breath to hit my ear. His voice dropped, smooth and mean.
“Troy… last night, Margaux just couldn’t keep her hands off me.”
He chuckled softly.
“I had no choice. Had to do what a man’s gotta do. You should’ve seen her like an animal, like she hadn’t had real meat in years. She almost tore me apart.”
Then he pulled back, tilting his head with a smirk, that same smug, gleaming look that made my fists curl.
His eyes sparkled with victory, as if he was waiting for me to snap... waiting to see me burn.
"Go ahead, Troy. Cry, scream, hit me again if you want," Archie sneered. "I slept with your wife. What are you gonna do about it?"
I stared at him momentarily, calm as ever, then slowly closed the gift box lid.
The smile on my face didn't waver.
"Branson, thanks for the gift," I said coolly. "I really like it."
Then I turned and walked up the steps to the stage. My steps were slow and deliberate, and every move was measured. I picked up the mic with a steady grip and looked out at the sea of guests.
"Tonight," I said, my voice echoing through the hall, "Mr. Branson gave me a very special present. It seems only fair that I return the favor. I hope he likes mine just as much."
The velvet curtains behind me parted with a soft, theatrical sweep.
The LED screen illuminated brightly, displaying a large, crystal-clear image that covered the entire display—impossible to miss and even more memorable.
It was Archie, naked and tangled with a French woman in what was clearly a hotel room.
