Chapter 2: Let's Get Divorced
The funeral concluded that afternoon, but Michael didn't come home that night.
The next morning, Olivia saw him on the news.
#The Johnson Group and the Brown Group Have Formed a Strategic Partnership.
Olivia was taken aback. The current head of the Brown family, if she remembered correctly, was Sophia, who had just returned to the country.
In the accompanying video, Michael and Sophia stood close, the camera zooming in on them. Olivia felt a familiar pang in her chest; it was just like the scene at yesterday's funeral. She scrolled through the comments and saw a flood of adoration.
[Michael and Sophia are such a perfect match!]
[This is a real power couple.]
[Ms. Brown is both beautiful and capable…]
Olivia’s hand tightened around her phone. The irony was a bitter pill to swallow. Without her even knowing, Michael and Sophia had already become a celebrated couple in the public eye.
Michael had always been a private person, avoiding the spotlight. But now, he was flaunting Sophia. Meanwhile, Olivia had been managing a key lab at the Johnson Group for years, and only a few top executives even knew of their marriage. He never discussed company matters with her, nor did he allow her to get involved.
She closed the news app, her heart aching with a pain that was becoming numbingly familiar.
That evening, Michael finally returned. His clothes had been changed, but Olivia had no interest in wondering who might have helped him. He approached her, carrying the faint, unfamiliar scent of another woman’s perfume. The smell made her nauseous.
Just as she planned to step away, he spoke, his voice cold. "Bianca's condition has been unstable lately. I have other plans for your lab. From now on, stay home and take care of her."
Olivia was stunned. Before she could form a response, he continued, "The Johnson and Brown families have reached a strategic partnership. To show our sincerity, I'm letting Sophia manage the lab. She has experience in large labs abroad, arguably more than you."
His tone was final, a declaration, not a discussion.
Her fingers clenched into fists. A sharp pain stabbed at her heart as bitterness spread through her. She wasn't a full-time housewife. She had a career and had sacrificed her own ambitions in pharmaceutical research for him, taking over the Johnson Group's AI medical equipment lab.
"Michael, do you have any idea how much of myself I've put into that lab?" Olivia’s voice trembled. "The research department is what it is today because I led the team through countless nights of work. How can you just… erase all of my effort?"
If his neglect and indifference had already filled her with disappointment, this act was actively destroying her past. Her love was worthless, thrown to the ground and trampled.
Her eyes reddened. She had given up her place at the funeral, she was losing her job, and next, she knew, would be her position as his wife.
Facing this reality, she found her voice after a long pause. "Michael, we…"
She was about to say the word divorce, but he cut her off without an ounce of patience. "Don't give me that pitiful look. I made this decision after careful consideration. Your work distracts you, preventing you from fully caring for Bianca, which is why she hasn't improved. This is your failure as a mother. There's no room for negotiation. I'm doing this for your own good!"
With that, he walked past her. "I'm going upstairs to shower. You should calm down."
Olivia stood frozen. Laughable. He had twisted his betrayal into an act of concern.
She thought of the new system she had developed—her solo creation, using cutting-edge technology, nearly complete. It was meant to be a surprise for Michael, a gift that would bring huge profits to the Johnson Group.
But now, it was all unnecessary.
She wouldn't waste her breath discussing divorce. She would just present him with the papers. Michael, she thought, don't you dare regret this.
While Michael showered, Olivia went to the study and drafted a divorce agreement. Her mind was a chaotic storm, but her heart was set. She wrote the one clause that mattered most:
[The custody of Bianca Johnson must belong to the mother.]
After printing it, she held the agreement and noticed her body was no longer trembling. The sense of loss in her heart was gone. She swiftly signed her name and pressed her fingerprint onto the paper.
Michael was still in the shower. She placed the document on the nightstand, in the most conspicuous spot, ensuring he would see it the moment he walked out.
