Chapter 3

Instead of going to Chloe's room, I went straight to the airport.

On my phone, the wedding planner was blowing up my WhatsApp, asking me to confirm the final details for the ceremony.

Before this trip, Marcus had held me close, promising he would give me the wedding of the century the moment we got back.

I stared at the screen for a long time, waiting until my battery was down to one percent.

Finally, I typed back: Change my name on everything to Chloe.

I also bought the digital file of the photo I saw at the photography studio and sent it to them. Use this as the main welcome poster at the entrance.

I figured Marcus would love my little wedding gift.

Our trip was supposed to last a week, but by the time Marcus finally returned home, a whole two weeks had passed.

He hadn't even noticed that I left the honeymoon early, nor had he sent a single text to check on me.

He tossed a luxury gift box onto my lap. "Chloe bought you this to apologize. It’s been weeks, Catherine. You should be over your little tantrum by now."

I looked at the box. It had a prominent 'Gift with Purchase' sticker on it, and the perfume sample inside was already more than half empty.

He couldn't even bother to pretend to care.

I slowly stood up, pulled the pre-drafted divorce papers from my drawer, and slid them across the table.

"Marcus, let's get a divorce."

He glanced down at the papers, his brows knitting together in pure irritation.

"Catherine, don't you think you're being incredibly dramatic?"

"Your family literally threw you away and handed you to me like a piece of garbage. If you leave me, who else in New York would ever want you?"

I snapped my head up to look at him. It was true—the moment the alliance with the Christians was finalized, my parents had kicked me out of the house.

They called it "fostering a relationship" with my future husband.

Looking at the man who had once promised to build a home with me, I felt like I was looking at a complete stranger.

The love I had once been so proud of felt incredibly pathetic at this moment.

My lips trembled, but I couldn't find the words to argue. Because he was right.

He slammed the door and left, telling me to use the night to clear my head.

The next morning, when I arrived at the office, my colleagues were whispering and congratulating me, saying my promotion to Senior Project Manager was a done deal.

But my blood ran cold when I opened the official announcement email and saw Chloe’s name listed as the new manager.

I stormed into Marcus’s office with the printout, only to stop dead in my tracks. Chloe was leaning over Marcus, tenderly adjusting his tie. They looked like two high school sweethearts in the middle of a honeymoon phase.

When Marcus saw me, his face immediately twisted into annoyance.

"Knock before you come in. Even elementary school kids know that rule. Do I need to send you back to HR for basic etiquette training?"

"You've been with this company for years, and you still have zero situational awareness."

Chloe, on the other hand, took a timid step back, looking like a frightened rabbit.

"I'm so sorry, Catherine... I always do Marcus's ties. I saw it was crooked and just reacted without thinking."

She quickly untied Marcus’s tie, shoved it into my hands, and ran out of the office crying.

Once again, she made me look like the wicked witch who had ruined their pure love.

Marcus’s voice boomed with anger. "You know Chloe has been depressed since she failed her job interview. It’s just one position, Catherine. Do you really have to fight her for everything?"

This was different.

I had pulled countless all-nighters and drafted dozens of proposals to earn this promotion.

And with one casual sentence, he expected me to just hand it over.

Watching him turn to leave, I called out, "Marcus, it's either Chloe or me. Choose."

He paused for a fraction of a second, but didn't turn back. He kept walking to chase after Chloe.

I walked back to my desk. Looking at the cubicle where I had poured four years of my life, it felt utterly alien.

That afternoon, the company-wide Snapchat group exploded.

A coworker nudged my arm, sliding her phone in front of my face. "Catherine... is Mr. Christian actually your husband?"