Chapter 4

Another week slipped by.

Throughout those seven days, Julian's arrogance was written all over his face.

His "strictly professional" relationship with Vanessa was blossoming right out in the open.

They laughed together in the breakroom, walked side by side through the corridors, and constantly flirted in project WhatsApp groups.

Several colleagues pulled me aside to warn me. I just offered a polite smile.

Inevitably, office gossip spread like wildfire. Whispers echoed in restrooms and hallways—people saying Chloe got pregnant and lost control of her man.

Others felt sorry for me, but Julian brushed every inquiry off with a breezy, "My wife is just hormonal and overthinking things."

I watched the circus unfold from the sidelines, completely detached.

Until that Thursday.

That afternoon, Julian didn't work overtime for once. He arrived home early.

The moment he walked through the front door, his demeanor gave him away.

A mix of manic excitement and tension, with a smug grin he couldn't wipe off his face.

"Chloe, we need to talk."

I sat on the sofa and looked up. "About what?"

He pulled a thick folder from his briefcase and slammed it down onto the glass coffee table.

Papers scattered across the surface.

I glanced down, my heart sinking in mock surprise.

They were drafts of the confidential internal project I had been managing.

"Recognize these?" His voice trembled with barely suppressed glee.

"This is the project you spearheaded last month."

"Under corporate compliance rules, no employee is authorized to take confidential internal drafts outside company grounds."

"Not only did you bring them home, you printed them, and you edited them here."

He jabbed a finger at the handwritten notes on the margins, enunciating every syllable: "Chloe, you leaked proprietary company secrets."

I raised my head and met his gaze.

His eyes glittered with predatory excitement—the look of a hunter watching his prey step cleanly into a snare.

"Do you have any idea what the penalty is for leaking Level-1 classified material?"

He crouched down, bringing his face inches from mine, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper. "Immediate suspension, internal investigation, termination with cause, and criminal prosecution."

"What do you want?" I asked flatly.

"Nothing unreasonable." He stood up, pulling a neatly folded document from his breast pocket. "Sign this."

I took it and skimmed the pages.

A Marital Settlement Agreement.

Under asset division, it read: *Chloe Hayes voluntarily waives all claims to marital property, including shared real estate and investments, agreeing to leave the marriage with zero assets.*

"You know I'm not a heartless man," he said, leaning down again, his tone shockingly gentle.

"Sign this, and I'll keep these documents buried."

"You can resign quietly with your dignity intact. I won't push the legal team to press charges."

"You keep full custody of the baby. I'll even pay standard child support. How does that sound?"

I pinched the paper between my fingers, feeling a chill run through my veins.

It wasn't fear.

It was the final, absolute confirmation of a bitter truth:

This man had never loved me. Not for a single second.

He had only loved what I could provide. My industry connections, my technical brilliance, my family's financial backing.

Now that he had secured a shortcut to the top through Vanessa's father, he couldn't wait to discard me like trash.

"Julian, are you certain you want to do this?"

"It's not about what I want; it's about what you have to do," he chuckled arrogantly. "You handed me the weapon yourself."

I looked down, remaining silent for a long time.

He assumed I was paralyzed by terror, hesitating, on the verge of breaking down.

He had no idea I was counting.

Counting how many cards he had left in his hand.

He had this one pathetic bluff.

While I held the entire deck.

"Fine," I said, setting the papers on the table. "I need to think it over. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."

"Sure, take your time," he laughed, turning toward the home office. "I'm in no rush."

Of course he wasn't.

In his mind, the game was already over.

He thought he had won.

He stepped into the office and shut the door.

Within seconds, his hushed, excited voice filtered through the wall.

"It's going down tomorrow... don't worry, the presentation deck is secure... the moment the ink is dry on the divorce, we can go public..."

He was talking to Vanessa.

I didn't bother listening any further.

I pulled out my phone and texted my executive assistant:

"Reschedule all my morning meetings tomorrow to 8:30 AM."

Then, I sent a second message to Mark in Information Security:

"Deploy the mousetrap tomorrow morning."

After locking my phone, I walked calmly into the bedroom.