Chapter 3

Hannah's POV

There was zero guilt on Nathan’s face at having his affair paraded in my living room.

Instead, he marched up to me, looking down from his high horse.

"Hannah, do you completely disregard company policy now?"

"Skipping work without notice? What do you think GFJ is, your playground?"

"Do you have any idea how severely this undermines my authority as CEO?"

I looked at him quietly and let out a dry laugh.

The person who most flagrantly abused the rules was standing right in front of me.

"Talk about rules?" My voice was dead flat.

"If I recall correctly, this new Project Director you promoted is spending her work hours lounging in her boss's house, wearing his wife's clothes."

I glanced at the woman on the couch, who was already adopting a pathetic, fragile posture.

"You should know she can't even tell synthetic corundum from a natural ruby."

Nathan's face darkened instantly.

"Her sloppy work cost the company a fortune." I continued. "Is that company policy, too?"

Triggered by the truth, Nathan doubled down, raising his voice to a shout.

"I already told you! That was your failure as the Project Director! You didn't train her properly!"

"Don't try to pin your own incompetence on Vivian."

"You're just jealous of her youth. You feel threatened by her talent, so you take every chance to sabotage her!"

I didn't even have the energy to argue.

For three years, I had heard this exact brand of gaslighting. Countless times, I had swallowed the injustice and quietly fixed her catastrophic mistakes.

Looking back, I was pathetically stupid.

Vivian immediately set down her wine glass and padded over, the hem of my silk robe trailing behind her.

She intimately hooked her arm through Nathan's, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"Nathan, don't be so hard on Hannah. She's just in a bad mood."

She turned to me, playing the magnanimous peacemaker.

"Hannah must have come home early to apologize for the misunderstanding today."

"If you just admit you were wrong, I'm sure Nathan will forgive you."

Nathan ate it up effortlessly.

His tense shoulders relaxed, a smug triumph returning to his face. He clearly assumed that freezing his credit cards was just a momentary tantrum, and that I had rushed home to beg for forgiveness.

"I knew you'd give in eventually."

He dropped the fruit platter on the coffee table, speaking to me as if dealing out a pardon.

"It's a good thing Vivian was there with me to meet the Halloway reps today. If it wasn't for her, you would have completely tanked that account."

"For her sake, I'll overlook your little outburst today."

He paused, then dropped his condition.

"But you made a mistake, so you need to make amends."

"Vivian is the Project Director now. She has to visit clients. It's inappropriate for her to be riding the subway."

"Give her your car keys. Consider the car her compensation. You can take public transit to work from now on."

He took my title, he drained my cards, and now he was going to use my car to spoil his mistress.

He wrapped his toxic selfishness in utter entitlement, genuinely believing he was doing me a favor by "giving me an out."

"You're not taking the car. I already sold it."

Nathan's smug smile froze. His eyes widened in shock.

"Are you insane?! Who gave you permission to sell the car?!"

Vivian's eyes darted. She leaned heavier against his shoulder.

"Nathan, don't be mad," she faux-soothed. "The front right tire was damaged last time. Hannah probably just wanted a better car."

"Women love shiny new things. Don't blame her."

She literally remembered that it was the front right tire she curbed.

But her "understanding" tone instantly dissolved Nathan's suspicions. His brow unfurrowed as he reclaimed his arrogant dominance.

"Getting a new car isn't entirely unreasonable."

He even offered a generous smirk.

"Tell you what. Since a better car isn't cheap, I'll bump your pay by $200 a month to cover your subway and bus fares."

I stared at the man whose entire net worth was built on my cash injections. It was beyond absurd.

"You're overthinking it," I said icily. "I don't want a new car."

I paused, making sure he heard every syllable.

"I just thought that one was too disgustingly dirty."

Nathan's expression shattered into ice.

He finally realized I wasn't playing the usual game today. The fury of being challenged flared in his eyes.

"Hannah, you really don't know what's good for you."

He gritted his teeth, pronouncing his sentence.

"Looks like I need to teach you a lesson so you remember who runs this house."

"Even though you lost your Director title, I kept your base salary the same out of respect for our marriage. But now?"

"Starting today, I'm halving your salary."

"You constantly throw your weight around just because you have seniority. If I don't punish you, you'll never learn."

He stepped closer, playing his ultimate trump card.

"If you stay this stubborn, I'll have no choice but to divorce you."

Divorce.

The club he swung at my head every single time we fought for the past three years.

Hearing the word this time, I didn't flinch.

No tears. No pleading.

I simply unzipped my handbag.

First, I dropped the dashcam onto the glass coffee table.

Second, the Ziploc bag containing the black lace panties I dug out from under the passenger seat.

Finally, I pulled out a divorce agreement—already signed by both parties—and slammed it down on top of the pile.

"We don't need to wait."

"We're already done."