His Secretary Takes Charge

Chapter 6

A week after I was discharged from the hospital, I went straight to find Ethan Carter to finalize our divorce.

But, of course, Ethan refused to sign the papers.

One day it was "I'm swamped with work." The next, it was "Emily's draft has too many issues." He kept circling back to the asset division. I'd made it crystal clear, I didn't want a dime. I was ready to walk away with nothing. But he kept insisting on compensating me.

He knew damn well money didn't matter to me. This was just another game to stall the process.

First, he offered me $527,000. I saw through it immediately, 5-2-7 sounds like "I love my wife" in Chinese. I turned it down.

Then he raised it to $1,314,000, code for "forever." Again, I said no.

Somehow, in that delusional mind of his, my refusals translated into "she still loves me" and "she's not ready to let go."

I rolled my eyes so hard they almost got stuck.

"Ethan Carter, are you insane? I've told you, I don't want your money. I just want to leave. With *nothing*."

He didn't even flinch. Just calmly poured me a cup of tea, like we were two old friends catching up.

"I know you're not after money," he said. "But remember when we first got together? I wanted to start my own company but had no capital. You sold your family home to help me get it off the ground."

So he hadn't forgotten.

Back then, he was all fire and ambition, determined not to ride on the Carter name. No startup funds, no investors, just a dream. And me. Always me, standing behind him, ready to give everything.

And now, here I was, with nothing to show for it but scars.

I sipped the tea, my voice flat. "So?"

His eyes softened, his voice almost gentle. "If you don't divorce me… I'll give you half my company shares."

I stared at him, stunned. "Are you seriously ill?"

"You were the one begging for a divorce in the car. At the hospital, you were practically dragging me out the door. Now you're offering me *half* your company to stay married? Do you even know what you want?"

He looked down, muttering, "I was angry. You know how I get. I didn't mean it."

I let out a bitter laugh.

"Oh really? So you didn't mean it when you called me an old, fat hippo? Or when you said no one else would want me? That divorcing me would finally give you a shot at a real life? Were those just words too?"

His head dropped even lower.

"Yes… I didn't mean it. I was just angry."

I laughed again, humorless this time.

At his company's annual party, Chloe Brooks had shown up in a glittery designer dress that barely covered anything. A few employees asked about me.

Ethan, glass of whiskey in hand, sneered, "What's there to be curious about? She's just an old, fat hippo. Nothing like Chloe."

Chloe giggled, hanging on his arm. "Mr. Carter, show us a picture of her!"

He looked at her like she hung the moon. "You're the only woman I see. No need to compare."

They didn't know someone recorded the whole thing, and sent it to me while I was riding up the elevator.

I still remember walking into that banquet hall. Ethan spotted me immediately.

And the first thing out of his mouth?

"Why are you dressed so tacky?"

Then, like nothing happened, he took my hand and led me to our table.

Later, I was flipping through the menu when I saw something unfamiliar. I tapped his arm. "Hey, what's the difference between white truffles and black truffles? Which one's better?"

Chloe, of course, pounced.

"Wow, looks like the boss's wife doesn't go to many Michelin-starred restaurants. White truffles are way more expensive than black! Oh, and you *definitely* don't eat them with chopsticks!"

She batted her lashes at Ethan like she was auditioning for a rom-com.

Ethan gave me a withering look. "If you don't know, just keep your mouth shut. Don't embarrass me."

Only later did I find out he'd been taking Chloe to Michelin-starred restaurants for months.