Seven Years of Loyalty, I Built My Empire

Katherine's POV: In our 7th year of building the company from the ground up, Ethan Caldwell finally acknowledged our marriage in public. The confetti from the Nasdaq bell-ringing ceremony was still drifting through the air. The camera flashes had barely died down when, without warning, he admitted his affair in the backstage lounge. "You can keep the title of Mrs. Caldwell, or take 500 million dollars and divorce me. Your choice." He casually nudged the wedding band on my ring finger with his fingertips, his tone as matter-of-fact as if he were discussing a routine acquisition. "Katherine, you're more like a business partner who's been in the trenches with me than a wife. I've realized it's refreshing to have a sweet little innocent look up to me for a change." I stared at myself in the mirror, dressed in my finest, my eyes so dry they ached. "Who is she?" My own voice sounded so hoarse that I barely recognized it. Ethan lit a cigarette and blew a stream of pale smoke into my face, right over the makeup I'd spent 3 hours perfecting. "The new intern, Sophie Lane." He flicked ash from his cigarette, a faintly amused smile tugging at his lips. "Before the bell ceremony today, I had s*x with her in a bathroom stall for 30 minutes. She was so scared she cried. She's soft, sweet, and obedient. Just like you used to be." My stomach seized. A sharp cramp nearly made my knees buckle. "Our marriage was only a marriage of convenience at first." I gripped the edge of the vanity so hard that my nails dug into my palms. "But 3 years ago in Port Sterling, you said we should make it real. You asked me to give myself to you." "I did, and I'm not going back on my word now." Ethan laughed softly, as if he were doing me a favor. "The title of Mrs. Caldwell will always be yours. As long as you know how to behave, I'll give you the company dividends and sign over several luxury homes in Bellcrest to you. Sophie isn't asking for much. She just wants a little security." "Security?" I let out a bitter laugh. "She's got her eye on the penthouse duplex we bought back then." Ethan calmly held out a property transfer deed. "Sign it and clear the place out for her. She has no one in Bellcrest. I hate the thought of her living in some cramped little apartment." I stood there, stunned. That penthouse duplex was the future home Ethan had once sketched for me 7 years earlier, after his family threw him out and we were crammed into a dark basement apartment that was barely 108 square feet. His hands were cracked and raw from frostbite as he drew it for me, line by line, on a wrinkled napkin. Back then, with his eyes red, he had leaned close and sworn to me, "Katie, once I'm back on my feet, I'll build you a glass conservatory on the top floor. I'll make you the most envied Mrs. Caldwell in the world." For that home and for his startup capital, I spent 2 full years covering for him at one business dinner after another, keeping pace with clients drink for drink. I drank until my stomach hemorrhaged, landed in the ICU, and had one third of my stomach removed. And now he was casually handing the place that held all our blood, sweat, and promises to a girl he'd known for only 3 months. "What if I refuse to sign?" I asked, trembling. The smile vanished from Ethan's lips, and his eyes went cold. "Katherine, don't push your luck. You're 32 now. You're not the young girl I once would have risked my life to protect. You can outmaneuver anyone in business. How can you suddenly fail to understand something this simple?" He ground the cigarette out in a priceless custom-made vase, turned, and slammed the door behind him. The moment the door shut, all the strength left my body. I slid to my knees on the cold floor as pain ripped through my stomach. I curled into a ball, barely able to breathe, the metallic smell of blood filling my nose with every breath.