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.”

I legally, officially rebranded the firm to Vance Financial.

I took my rightful, indisputable seat at the absolute head of the massive obsidian boardroom table as CEO. The older male executives and investors who had previously only seen me as a quiet, unassuming, decorative wife now sat in terrified, absolute reverence when I entered a room. They had watched me orchestrate the execution of a CEO without blinking; they knew I was an apex predator.

Without the dead weight of Adrian’s parasitic spending, his terrible investments, and his incompetent management, the company breathed anew. Our quarterly profits skyrocketed by forty percent within six months. I fired the toxic, enabling managers Adrian had hired and promoted the brilliant, hardworking women he had previously ignored or harassed.

I sat in my sprawling, glass-walled penthouse office, looking out over the glittering Phoenix skyline as the sun began to set, casting the city in hues of gold and violet.