The rivalry between Smith and me started back in high school. His father was the man who wrecked my mother's marriage, leaving a permanent, unbridgeable chasm between us. So, when I found out the lead investor for our new project pitch was Stella Lancaster, I already knew the outcome. She is my wife, but Smith is the ghost of her past. He is the one who got away, and I knew that better than anyone. When the pitch results were announced, Stella handed the golden branch straight to Smith, exactly as I expected. He walked up to me, his tone dripping with unconcealed smugness. "Even if you married her, so what? In her heart, I will always be number one." "Everything you bleed to achieve is handed to me on a silver platter." I followed his gaze to where Stella stood a few yards away. Suddenly, a wave of sheer, bone deep exhaustion washed over me. I was done. I did not want to play this endless game of tug of war anymore. This time, I choose to let go. Rather than letting a hopeless marriage drain the life out of me, I was going to focus on my own empire. 1 The new investor was stunning. Her looks, her ruthless competence, and her elite family background had already sparked a wildfire of gossip across our floor. The investor was Stella Lancaster. My wife. The moment I saw her name on the executive brief, I knew my silent war with Smith was already lost. In the breakroom, my coworkers were whispering furiously over their coffees. "Did you hear? The CEO of Summit Peak is heading the investment this time. Stella Lancaster herself." "She is a literal goldmine. If she picks our team's design, we will not have to worry about our quotas for the next five years." "Honestly, Smith's team is probably going to bag it. Word on the street is that Smith is her college sweetheart. Her first love. She is only investing in Nova Design because he works here." Hearing those words made my chest tighten. I walked back to my desk like a hollow shell. The news of Stella's arrival had taken over the office. Our department director, Harrison, called Smith and me into his office. "Rob. Smith." "Stella Lancaster from Summit Peak is funding this cycle. I want both of you to lead your teams and draft a concept. You have one month to submit your final pitches." Harrison gave Smith a long, meaningful look, his eyes practically shining with approval. It was obvious Harrison had heard the rumors too. He knew exactly why Stella had chosen our firm. Before I even stepped out of the office, I knew my team's grueling work would be for nothing. Competing against Smith meant I was just there to be the sacrificial lamb. Out in the hallway, Smith stopped in his tracks. We stood face to face. I met his gaze, and he offered a slight smile. It was arrogant, bright, and completely infuriating. "May the best man win, Rob." But his eyes said he had already won. He knew exactly who Stella would choose. I watched him walk away with that confident stride before turning on my heel. The design department was basically throwing a parade for him. If my team's proposal got rejected, I would be demoted to working under Smith. I would have to swallow my pride and take his orders. I refused to bow down to him. Right before clocking out, a crowd formed around Smith's desk, showering him with praise. "You are incredible, Smith." I looked at him through the sea of people. He was the center of attention, surrounded by warmth and laughter. In contrast, my corner of the office felt bitterly cold. I stood alone. He caught my eye and smirked. I looked away, grabbed my trench coat, and walked out into the chilly evening air. 2 Stella got home late. Her expression carried its usual detached, untouchable grace. Despite everything, I could not stop myself from asking. "Stella, did you invest in my company?" She looked up at the sound of my voice. Her eyes met mine, calm and unreadable. She gave a soft hum of confirmation. "Why Nova?" I pushed. I forced a casual, joking tone. "Are you going to give your husband a backstage pass?" Stella's brow furrowed slightly. She looked entirely serious. There was not a trace of humor in her striking eyes. She paused for a moment. "It was a board decision. I do not make the final call on the proposals alone." Her underlying message was crystal clear. Being her husband gave me absolutely zero privileges. I did not press any further. She was always like this. Cold, pragmatic, operating entirely on her own strict logic. She never bent the rules for me. And like a fool, I constantly humiliated myself by hoping I could be her one exception. Stella turned away and walked into her home office. The heavy mahogany door did not click shut all the way. I could hear the low murmur of her voice on a phone call. The voice echoing faintly from the speaker was Smith's. Stella would occasionally let out a soft, low laugh in response to whatever he was saying. When the call ended, she pushed the door open. She walked to the entryway and pulled her coat off the rack. Slipping into her camel trench and sliding on her leather heels, she stood tall and looked back at me. "I have a business dinner. I need to head out." I just nodded. Stella was breathtaking. She had sharp, aristocratic features, a high nose bridge, and perfectly sculpted lips. Her tailored suit underneath the trench coat made her look powerful and commanding. The heavy front door clicked shut behind her. She came home very late that night. Any questions I wanted to ask died in my throat the moment I saw Smith's newest post on Instagram. It was a group photo. Four people. Smith, Stella, and two of their old college friends. Staring at that picture, I realized my question was pointless. I wanted to ask Stella if she would favor Smith. The answer was already staring me in the face. I used to leave a warm lamp on in the living room whenever she had late dinners. Tonight, I turned off every light in the house and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke up, Stella and I barely crossed paths. We left for work separately. At the office, the entire department treated Smith like royalty. Everyone knew the truth. If it were not for Smith, Stella would never have looked twice at our firm. My bad blood with him was my own problem. My coworkers only cared about their annual bonuses and hitting their quotas. Today, Stella arrived at the office for an investor walkthrough. Director Harrison immediately summoned Smith to escort her. When Smith finally returned to the floor, all eyes locked onto him. "Smith, is CEO Lancaster super intimidating in person?" Smith's lips curved upward. His answer was deliberately vague and intimate. "I have known Stella for a long time. She is not intimidating at all. You guys can relax." The junior designers exchanged knowing, excited smiles. I had already read every single detail of Smith and Stella's college romance online. If I were not Stella's husband, I probably would have thought their youthful love story was beautiful too. But reading the compilation of their history, painstakingly put together by their old classmates, only left me with a mouth full of ash. Smith still had an old, active Twitter account from college. It was a digital diary of their romance. I used to torture myself by scrolling through it late at night. The more I read, the more I realized how fiercely Stella had loved him. She would read every single one of his mundane tweets, liking and replying to them. She was the one who chased him first. It took me a full year of relentless pursuing just to get Stella to look my way. When I first found out Stella's ex was Smith, a sick thrill had run through me. I thought I had won. I thought it was the ultimate revenge against him. But I quickly realized I had lost, brutally and completely. The fact that my wife still harbored feelings for her ex was not a victory. It was the ultimate humiliation. It just gave Smith another way to crush me under his heel. 3 Smith and I had been sworn enemies since middle school. We were like fire and ice, completely incompatible. His father manipulated his way into our home. The stress and betrayal broke my father's health, sinking him into severe depression. I almost lost my dad entirely. In high school, Smith followed me again. He was one point short of getting into the elite prep academy, so my mother, Victoria, pulled strings and paid off the board to get him in. That same year, my father left the country to recover in a private sanatorium. I was left behind in the Kensington estate. I thought if I acted out, if I was cruel enough, Smith and his father would take the hint and leave. My tactics were not clever. Honestly, they were stupid. I tried to poison their tea with black ink. I wanted to terrify them, to mark my territory. Instead, Smith went straight to my mother playing the victim. Victoria's face turned dark with fury. She cornered me and berated me for being a monster. I hated them, but I never had it in me to do real, permanent damage. Everything I did only made my mother feel worse for Smith and his father. By college, I was finally at a different university. The final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Victoria came during my freshman winter break. She took Smith to a high society gala instead of me. When people asked, she did not even deny it when they assumed Smith was her biological son. She even mentioned changing his last name to Kensington. I told her if she let him take our family name, I would drop it entirely and take my father's name, Reed. Her eyes burned with rage. She raised her hand, ready to strike me across the face. But a tall, imposing figure stepped in and caught her wrist. That person was Stella. After graduation, our paths crossed again. I spent an entire year chasing her. Just when I was on the verge of giving up, she finally said yes. It was only after we signed the marriage papers that I found out Smith was her ex boyfriend. She had even visited the Kensington estate before, formally introduced as Smith's girlfriend. When my mother found out Stella and I were married, her face drained of color. She clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. "Did you do this on purpose?" she gasped. "You knew she was his ex. Did you marry her just to spite him?" I was paralyzed. During the holidays, I refused to go back to the estate. But Stella insisted. She dragged me back. The moment we walked through the doors, Smith and I got into a physical altercation in the courtyard. We both lost our footing and fell hard. Stella reacted purely on instinct. She lunged forward and caught Smith, holding him up. I hit the concrete. Later at the hospital, with red, stubborn eyes, I asked Stella why she did not catch me. She calmly peeled an apple, not even looking at me. "I did not see you." When Stella stepped out of the hospital room, Smith walked in. He looked down at me in the hospital bed, a victor's smile on his lips. He spent the next ten minutes recounting every beautiful detail of his college life with Stella. He painted a picture of a warm, passionate Stella that I had never met. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. After I recovered, I found myself trapped in the same orbit as him again. We ended up at the same design firm. We were constantly at each other's throats. He weaponized his status as the heir to the Kensington Conglomerate to make management bow to him. And now, he had the added armor of being the lead investor's unforgettable first love. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on. I knew my pitch was doomed. But I still pushed my team to work overtime, perfecting every single detail of our proposal. A month later, I walked into the executive boardroom holding my portfolio. Everyone was seated. Except Smith. He walked in a moment later, side by side with Stella. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows hit them perfectly. Stella occasionally tilted her head up, matching Smith's height, listening intently to whatever he was whispering. 4 Her profile was sharp against the projector's light. Her dark eyes held a faint, rare smile. When her gaze accidentally flicked to mine, I searched her eyes, desperate to find some hidden emotion. But there was nothing. Just that same chilling, detached indifference. We drew lots for the presentation order. I was up first. I walked to the podium, perfectly composed, and pulled up my slides. I poured my heart into the presentation, breaking down every inspiration and structural concept. I was completely immersed in the work. When I stepped down, the applause was painfully sparse. The only person clapping with any real enthusiasm was Noah, a bright eyed kid who had been my intern since he graduated. Stella's face was completely blank. No one could read her. Director Harrison kept stealing glances at her, trying to decipher her mood. Then it was Smith's turn. He walked to the front and naturally locked eyes with Stella. They shared a private, knowing smile. The other executives exchanged glances, barely hiding their gossip fueled grins. Noah leaned over to me and whispered anxiously, "Rob, are we going to lose this?" I forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid smile. When Smith finished, the room erupted. The applause was deafening compared to mine. Harrison clapped so hard his face turned red. A faint, unmistakable smirk touched Stella's lips. We took a thirty minute recess. Lately, the suffocating rumors about Stella and Smith were draining the air out of my lungs. The way she looked at me was so cold it made my chest physically ache. Listening to the office chatter, I learned even more about their past. Stella had pursued him relentlessly. She waited outside his dorm every morning to bring him coffee. Everyone at their elite university knew how deeply Stella worshipped Smith. I sat frozen in my chair. Watching the backs of Stella and Smith as they walked out of the boardroom together, my nose stung. The woman I had bled to win over was harboring the soul of the man I hated most in the world. The boardroom emptied out until only Noah and I were left. Noah gave my arm a comforting squeeze. The thirty minutes were up. The results were in. Stella and the executives from Summit Peak had already left the building. Harrison stood at the head of the table to announce the verdict. There were three deciding votes. All three went to Smith. When the words left Harrison's mouth, my eyes burned. A hot, pathetic dampness threatened to spill over. I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the tears back down. Harrison shot Smith a look of pure, validating triumph. A crowd immediately formed around him. "Smith, you are an absolute god!" I packed up my laptop and walked toward the exit, a solitary shadow in a room full of celebration. Smith caught up to me in the hall. "Rob." I stopped. His eyes were bright with mockery. "Even if you are the one married to her, I will always be her priority." "Everything you break your back to get, I can have just by reaching out my hand." He was right. When we were fourteen, he effortlessly stole my mother's love. Now, he effortlessly occupied my wife's heart. Down the hall, Harrison was kissing up to Stella by the elevators, treating her like royalty. Suddenly, the fight drained out of me. I did not want to compete with Smith anymore. And I did not want Stella anymore, either. The elevator doors remained open. Harrison spotted us and practically begged Smith to join them in the elevator. I had no choice but to step in too. The heavy metal doors closed. The car descended. Harrison immediately started his usual brown nosing. "CEO Lancaster, you and Smith are such a powerful match. Truly a match made in heaven." A few other managers chimed in eagerly. "Exactly! We heard rumors that you two were already married. You are so supportive, coming all the way to our firm just to back your husband's project." I listened to their sickening flattery in dead silence. My heart did not even skip a beat. It was just numb. I felt a heavy, burning gaze lock onto the side of my face. I turned my head. Stella's face had gone completely rigid. Harrison nudged my arm, silently ordering me to play along. "Right, Rob? Do not they look perfect together?" The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. I looked calmly into Stella's eyes. "Yes. A perfect match." Panic flashed through her usually icy eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as if she was desperate to say something. 5 I stepped out of the elevator and walked away fast. Behind me, a low, urgent voice rang out. "Rob." I did not hesitate. I did not stop. I pushed through the lobby doors and escaped the crowd. The tears I had been swallowing down finally clawed their way up my throat. The suffocating weight of my grievances broke me. When I was fourteen, my father had a mental breakdown and was committed to a facility because my mother was sleeping with another man. I was terrified and lost. When Stella blocked my mother's hand from striking my face, I thought she was my savior. But everything I fought desperately to hold onto slipped through my fingers and flowed straight to Smith. My luck was always just one step short. I hid in my car in the underground garage and broke down completely. Once the tears finally stopped, my vision cleared. Stella's tall figure appeared in the dim light of the parking garage. She was walking fast, her heels clicking aggressively against the concrete. Just as she reached out for my door handle, I slammed my foot on the gas and tore out of the garage. I drove straight to the Kensington estate. Neither Victoria nor Smith's father was home. The sprawling mansion was dead quiet, save for a few maids. The bedroom I had grown up in had long been seized, completely remodeled into Smith's personal sanctuary. I grabbed my passports, my financial documents, and a few valuable heirlooms. The entire house was infested with traces of Smith and his father. On the desk in the study sat a framed photo of Smith's college graduation. I looked away. When Victoria first found out I married Stella, she exploded. She accused me of sacrificing my own marriage just to get back at Smith. If I had known Stella was his ex, I would have just assumed she had terrible taste in men. I would have tossed her into the same garbage bin as him. As I walked out of the grand double doors, I ran straight into Smith. He leaned against a marble pillar, looking at me with pure amusement. "Rob." "It is boring fighting you. You know why? Because I can take whatever you want without lifting a finger." "Your dad lost to my dad. You lose to me. It runs in your blood." "I heard you chased Stella for a year? Half the guys on campus were obsessed with her back then." "But she was known as the Ice Queen. Completely untouchable." "Yet with me? I do not have to do a single thing, and she will always take my side." "It was true four years ago, and it is true today." In Smith's eyes, Stella was gentle, fiercely loyal, and devoted. In my eyes, she was cold, ruthless, and entirely indifferent. Smith's old tweets were a brutal reality check. Only after seeing how Stella loved someone else did I realize she never loved me at all. Smith loved playing the social media game. We only added each other on messaging apps after we started working at the same firm. Stella would occasionally like his random, mundane status updates. Sometimes she would even leave a comment. I had started a massive fight with her over it once. She just frowned, looking at me with total disdain. "Rob, why are you always targeting him?" I was so furiously heartbroken I could barely string a sentence together. Did she not know what boundaries were? All I wanted was for her to choose me. Just once. Smith's voice snapped me back to reality. "Rob, you can never beat me." "The woman you love? I was the one who taught her how to love." "I even took her first kiss." I just smiled faintly and walked past him without a word.
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