The morning after I uncovered my husband’s affair, I packed every suit, watch, and pair of shoes he owned into 2 suitcases and wheeled them into his office during the Monday staff meeting. “You wanted him? Take him,” I told his young intern. The room fell silent… until she pressed a thick envelope into my hands and said, “He never told you who’s really been paying for all of this.”

“Security!” Adrian roared, completely losing his mind. He spun around, pointing wildly at the massive, armed corporate security guard standing near the revolving doors. “Get this hysterical, crazy woman out of my lobby right now! Throw her out!”

The security guard, a burly man who had worked there for five years, did not move toward me. He looked at me, then looked at Adrian. He slowly, deliberately crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Beckett,” the guard said, his voice flat and devoid of respect. “Ms. Vance’s legal team informed our contracting agency of the ownership transfer at 8:15 this morning. We have our new directives. My orders are to escort you off the premises.”

Adrian’s jaw literally unhinged. He looked like a cornered animal. Driven by the desperate, narcissistic need to prove he was still in control, he frantically pulled his expensive smartphone from his pocket.