Chapter 5

My phone was silent for a while—then it started buzzing like mad.

[Of course! Of course! Of course!]

[Nat, you're amazing! By the way, wasn't it your birthday yesterday? The gift I sent should've arrived—don't forget to pick it up at your apartment front desk.]

I stared at the screen for a moment, then a small laugh slipped out of my throat—quiet at first, then growing louder, until it felt oddly out of place in this upscale restaurant.

Right. It was my birthday yesterday.

When Julian handed me that mango juice, did it cross his mind? That it was my birthday?

When he sat in his fancy sports car, gently putting a Band-Aid on Chloe's knee while I lay alone in an ice-cold ER with an IV drip in my arm—did he remember his wife of seven years might be worth a birthday gift?

I guess he forgot. Too busy thinking about his Chloe.

But it didn't matter.

We were getting divorced.

Who cared about gifts from an ex-husband?

After finishing my expensive but solitary dinner, I didn't go home to rest. I threw myself into migrating the data for that project.

A gift for my new boss had to be flawless.

For the next two days, I barely left the office, working through the nights without turning off the lights once.

Others in the company noticed. In group chats, deliberately excluding me, I became their favorite topic.

"She's just pulling a stunt," one wrote. "Even if she is cofounder in name, she always lived off Julian's money. Who's she kidding?"

"Without being Julian's wife, would the company even need her with how far we've come?"

"I heard she was the reason the company didn't IPO sooner. She dragged Julian down when he started."

Chloe, of course, screenshot these messages and sent them directly to me—each with a smug little voice note, pretending to sympathize. "Natalie, I know it must be hard, being married to a CEO as attractive and capable as Julian. That kind of insecurity must really eat at a woman."

She paused, then sweetened her tone to something even more piercing. "But let me give you some advice—men aren't drawn to women who only work. They want someone like me—young, pretty, fun."

I listened to her sharp voice, smiling faintly.

"Great," I said coolly. "I'll have HR send over your termination letter tomorrow. Wouldn't want someone in the office who can't attract men, now would we?"

Then I blocked her and didn't look back.

Ten minutes later, Julian called me from overseas.

"Nat—what the hell are you doing?" he barked. "What did Chloe ever do to you this time?"

He didn't even try to hide his anger. "I finally convinced her to come to Paris with me, just to help her get over the scene you made at the party—and now you go and text her something that made her cry? Really? Do you go a single day without trying to stir up drama?"

Forgiveness? Who's supposed to be forgiving whom here?

I laughed quietly as I gathered the freshly printed divorce papers from the printer tray.

"When's your flight back from Paris?" I asked. "We should talk about the divorce."

On the phone, Julian fell silent. Then his voice rose, sharp and furious. "Jesus, Natalie! Can't you stop with the theatrics for once? You don't get to keep throwing this divorce tantrum every time you lose an argument!"

He paused, breathing heavily. Then came the threat. "If you bring up divorce one more time, I'm going to get angry. For real."

I almost dropped the papers from laughing.

I'd already signed the damn thing. What was I supposed to be afraid of—his anger?

"I left the signed divorce agreement on your desk. Make sure you read it when you get back."

Bang!

He kicked over a chair—clearly losing it.

"Fine, Natalie! Don't blame me later. This time, I'm done trying to fix things!"

The call ended abruptly.

I shrugged and calmly signed my name: Natalie Sterling.

The next morning, when I woke up and checked my phone, Julian had left a message.

Apparently, he hadn't slept a wink. At 4 a.m., he posted a public update across all his socials, visible to the entire network.

It was a photo: Julian and Chloe standing in front of a hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, fingers tightly entwined. Behind them, the pale dawn light of Paris.

Caption: [Seven years... Thank God I had you.]

The comment section exploded:

"Finally we see her! So this is the woman the company's been hiding all these years?"

"Wait—wasn't that Sterling woman the real wife???"

Julian gave no reply. But he pinned a smug emoji of someone covering their mouth.

Moments later, he sent a company-wide announcement in the team chat: [Effective immediately, Chloe will assume the role of Operations Director. The European M&A project is now in her hands. Tonight's launch event will also be hosted by Chloe in place of Natalie.]

He knew how I pulled that deal together—how I lived abroad for 39 straight days to make it happen.

He knew I spent every morning organizing data and every night drinking whiskey with arrogant partners whose respect was as fragile as their egos.

And still, he did this.

To humiliate me. To force me to beg.

Another message from Julian. [If you admit you were wrong, there's still time. Come to the launch tonight. Apologize to Chloe in front of everyone, and we'll restore your position as director.]

I didn't reply.

I tossed my phone aside and went to wash up.

Had he really forgotten?

That deal only happened because of me. Not his company. Not Chloe.

The European partners never cared about the logo. They only respected one name:

Natalie Sterling.