I Was the Perfect Mistress. Until I Stopped Needing His Money.

I handed the printed resignation letter to Marcus, ready to end my five-year gilded cage existence.

"Did something happen? The company can't afford to lose you," Marcus said, flipping through the resignation letter.

"My mother passed away. I want to take my child abroad for a while," I replied. "We need a fresh start somewhere new."

Marcus nodded in understanding, recalling the night a week ago when my mother died. I had made over a dozen calls to Ethan from the hospital corridor. No one picked up.

Later, I saw on Victoria's social media that Ethan was busy showing Victoria, who had just returned from abroad, around the company.

My mother took her last breath at three in the morning.

"Emma, are you sure you want to leave?" Marcus's voice pulled me back to the present. "Mr. Blake needs..."

"He'll handle it. After all, he has Miss Rothwell now."

As I left the HR office, I encountered them in the corridor.

Victoria was holding his arm as they headed towards a conference room. Seeing me, Victoria gave a polite, professional smile and nod.

I returned the nod and prepared to leave.

"Wait," Ethan called out.

"Yes, Ethan?" I turned to face him, a flicker of hope stirring despite myself.

"Ms. Thompson, let me introduce you," he said, his tone distant and formal. "This is Victoria. She'll be taking over your secretarial duties."

Ms. Thompson.

I gave a bitter smile. For five years in the company, I was always Ms. Thompson.

At work, he always maintained this detached demeanor, as if we were merely superior and subordinate.

And I had silently played along.

"Understood," I nodded. "I wish you both a smooth transition."

Then Victoria took his arm and they walked away.

My phone vibrated. It was Lucas.

"Mommy, do you have my birthday present ready?"

Hearing his voice instantly calmed my heart.

"Of course. Anything special you want?"

"I want Mommy and Daddy to pick me up from school together."

I glanced over at Ethan, still talking with Victoria. They were discussing some work arrangement, Victoria nodding and smiling occasionally.

"Okay, sweetie. Mommy will come get you."

After hanging up, I hesitated, then sent Ethan a text: Free tonight? It's Lucas's birthday.

The moment I pressed send, I felt ridiculous. After five years, what was I still hoping for?

At four PM, I went alone to pick up Lucas from kindergarten.

Many parents had already gathered at the gate, most couples together.

I saw the parents of Amy, a girl in Lucas's class, discussing where to go for dinner. Her father suggested that new Italian place; her mother said they should ask Amy first.

Standing among them, my phone screen still showed no reply from Ethan.

"Mrs. Thompson!" Amy's mother approached me. "It's Lucas's birthday today, right? Any special plans?"

"Yes, we'll celebrate at home," I answered with a smile.

When Lucas saw me, he showed no disappointment, just quietly packed his little backpack.

"Mommy, look what I drew today—'My Family,'" he said, holding up a picture of the two of us in a park. In the distance was a tall building with a blurry figure inside. "Daddy's at work."

He was already used to his father's absence. The thought twisted my heart.

Back home, I prepared Lucas's birthday cake. While cutting fruit, I remembered the night five years ago when I signed that agreement. The A4 paper held cold, hard clauses: confidentiality, five-year term, fixed monthly transfers.

Ethan's signature was scrawled; mine was neat and precise. Back then, I thought it was the beginning of love. Now I understood it was just a comprehensive employment contract.

"Mommy, aren't we waiting for Daddy?" Lucas asked, wearing his birthday hat.

I checked my phone. Six o'clock. Still no reply.

"Daddy has important work today," I said, ruffling his hair. "Let's start without him."

Lucas nodded, asking no further. He never fussed over things he couldn't have, a trait he shared with Ethan.

Then my phone rang. My heart leapt—maybe Ethan finally remembered. Maybe we could still celebrate as a family.

But the message read: [Important last-minute meeting.]

Then my phone notified me of a Victoria's social media update. A candlelit dinner at a restaurant, captioned: "A perfect night with you."

And in the corner of the photo, a man's hand was visible, wearing a ring.

I zoomed in on that hand, a sense of foreboding rising within me.