He Made His Intern a Founder, So I Became the Heiress Who Destroyed Him

Confetti caught in the shoulders of my cheap suit and worked its way under my collar. On the Nasdaq stage, my husband, Julian, raised both arms while camera flashes bounced off the closing-bell display. He pulled his intern, Chloe, against his side. She wiped her eyes on his jacket. “And I want to give a special thank you,” Julian’s voice boomed, “to our true co-founder, the genius who carried us over the finish line. Chloe Adams!” The crowd roared. Chloe Adams had been with us for six months. At the pre-IPO dinner last week, I'd found her barefoot in the front passenger seat, winding a strand of hair around one finger. That seat was supposed to be mine. Julian tossed my overnight bag into the back. “She gets carsick. Just get in, Sera.” I glanced at the passenger-side visor. My old, faded parking pass from our first office was still clipped there. Chloe left it there. She smiled at me and locked the door from the inside. *Click.* Backstage smelled of champagne and hot stage lights. Julian finally turned to me, still grinning. “We did it,” he said. His eyes stayed on the photographers. I touched the locket at my neck. The plain silver pendant was shaped like a line of code. Its microchip held the original algorithm I'd written five years ago, the first working piece of Sterling Tech. Julian followed my hand and frowned. “I need that,” he said, his voice low and firm. I stared at him. “What?” “The locket. Give it to me. Chloe’s feeling overwhelmed. She needs a confidence boost. A symbol.” A symbol for the intern he'd just called our founder. His fingers went to the clasp before I answered. I covered his hand and felt the metal dig into my palm. He pressed my hand aside and kept working at the catch. The locket came free. He walked straight to Chloe and lifted her chin. “This belongs to a founder,” he whispered, loud enough for me to hear, as he fastened our past around her neck. She beamed and traced the code I'd written in a stuffy garage while Julian pitched investors. That settled it. I turned and walked away. He didn't call after me. At the villa, I walked past the bedroom without packing. The clothes, jewelry, and furniture could stay. Nothing in those rooms was worth delaying the flight. In his study, I took two documents from the bottom drawer. My lawyers had prepared them months ago. A divorce petition. A resignation letter. I signed both and left them side by side in the center of his desk. (Julian’s POV) I brought Chloe home. She talked all the way through the villa about redecorating my office. I went into the study for a celebratory scotch and found paperwork centered on the mahogany desk. The first document was a divorce petition. The second was her resignation letter. Her signature sat at the bottom of both. I laughed. “Dramatic, isn’t she?” I murmured, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. Chloe read over my shoulder. “Is she leaving you?” “She's throwing a tantrum,” I said, tossing the papers back onto the desk. “She has nowhere to go. No money, no family name anyone knows. She thinks this will scare me into giving her what she wants.” I drank the scotch. “Don't worry.” I pulled Chloe close. “She'll be back by Wednesday, begging for forgiveness.” I pictured Seraphina checking into a cheap motel. Her overnight bag was still in my car, so I poured another drink and waited for her call.