The Fiancial Queen's Rebirth Chronicles

The moment I pushed open the CEO's office door, the entire world froze. By the window, sunlight poured across the room—across him—and the woman sitting in his lap. Her dress was sky-blue—the very same style I’d spotted last month when accompanying Simon to the mall, the one he’d dismissed as too expensive. I remembered clearly how he’d said that day: "Darling, we must be thrifty. No extravagance." Now, that same dress shimmered under the morning light, as she rose from his embrace with a smile that made my stomach twist. Her lips glowed with a limited-edition lipstick—the very shade I’d once wanted but he’d called too bold, “unsuitable for a wife.” It wasn’t about the colour, I realised. It was about the person wearing it. "You... you two..." My hand still clutched the door handle as several pages fell from the folder, scattering across the floor. They were the quarterly reports he'd asked me to organise last night. I'd stayed up all night, terrified of making a mistake. "Darling, what are you doing here?" Simon frowned, his tone laced with an irritation I'd never heard before. He didn't even rise, merely loosening his tie with an impatient expression. As if I were the unwelcome intruder. Bending to gather the papers, I suddenly recalled five years ago, in this very office, when he knelt to propose. He’d said, "Lily, meeting you is the greatest fortune of my life." It was also here, three years ago, that he’d asked me to give up my career and focus on our family. He’d said, "With me here, you needn’t worry about a thing." “So you’re Lily,” she said lightly. “I’ve heard you were brilliant with numbers. What happened? You look more like the housekeeper than the CFO.” Her voice was crisp and melodious, yet each word cut like a knife. A few employees hovered by the doorway, pretending to pass by, phones half-raised. I could almost hear their whispers. Employees who once treated me with utmost respect were now watching my humiliation. I recalled last year's annual meeting when they still addressed me as "Madam". "What else can you do besides shopping and cooking?" Simon stood up, adjusting his suit with impatience. "Stop embarrassing yourself here. Go home and get on with whatever it is you do." Embarrassing? I suddenly laughed. Yes, I truly understood nothing now. I didn't understand why I'd given up a million-dollar-a-year position as Finance Director. Why the man who claimed to love me could be so cruel. And most of all, why I’d naively believed the lie of being a "good wife and mother." I straightened up and glanced at the wedding photo on the desk. In the picture, I wore a white wedding gown, smiling blissfully. Now, that smile was so glaring it made me want to vomit. I watched Alice walk over to the photo and casually flip it face down on the desk. Simon not only failed to stop her but gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. That gesture had once been reserved solely for me. "Apologies for interrupting," I said, turning to leave. My heels clicked slowly across the carpet, step by step. I waited—for him to chase after me with explanations, for him to say it was all a misunderstanding. But all I heard behind me was Alice's coquettish voice: "Darling, I've got a meeting later. Shall we get back to it?" And Simon's smiling reply: "Sweetheart, go and get ready. I'll be there shortly." That term "sweetheart" had once been mine alone. As the lift doors slowly closed, I caught my reflection. Unbeknownst to me, tears had already drenched my entire face. It’s alright. This is the last time I’ll cry for him. I pressed the button for the parking garage. The echo of another afternoon came to me—three years ago, his voice warm with promise: "With me here, you’ll never need to worry about the future." And now, I finally understand: the one thing I should never have given up was myself.