After two months away on business, I returned to find my office transformed into a playground for my assistant's son. Every important document had been turned into drawing paper—the walls, the desk, nothing was spared. I went to confront my wife, but she was the one who got angry. "You're a grown man picking a fight with a child? Can you be any more petty?" "Do you have any idea how hard it is for Ryan, working while raising a kid as a single father?" I tried to explain, but she cut me off right there, stripped me of my position, and gave my office to Ryan. That evening, Ryan posted on Instagram—a photo of Victoria's back as she sat at a parent-teacher conference. "Finally found Tyler the mom he deserves. ❤️" I smiled and left a comment. "You three make the perfect family. That's what matters most." The next day, Victoria had Ryan take over my key clients. I announced my divorce on the spot. Walking out, I sent a text to my father: "Pull all Westfall investments from VictoriaTech." I turned off my phone and collapsed on the couch, lighting a cigarette. Five years of marriage. Five years of my parents hoping for grandchildren. But I knew Victoria didn't like kids—she hated them, actually. I'd fought with my parents countless times because of it. After enough arguments, they'd given up and accepted that the Hayes bloodline would end with me. But today shattered everything I thought I knew. My phone rang. It was Victoria. Was she calling to apologize? Part of me wondered if my comment had been too harsh. But the moment I answered, her voice came through dripping with fury. "Ethan Hayes, has your brain been kicked by a donkey or eaten by a dog? So what if I went to Tyler's parent-teacher conference?" "Delete that comment and apologize to Ryan right now, or you'll regret it!" She slammed the phone down before I could respond. My hand froze around the phone. I hadn't expected an apology—but I definitely hadn't expected her to call and tear into me. She was playing mother to another man's child. What right did she have to yell at me? A sharp pain lanced through my stomach. Years of business dinners and drinking had given me chronic gastric bleeding. I checked the time—today was my hospital follow-up appointment. Victoria had promised to come with me. But now... she was probably still busy being a mother to her perfect new son. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The pain was making my vision darken. My phone suddenly vibrated non-stop. Ryan had posted in the company group chat. "@Ethan Hayes, I feel terrible about the misunderstanding today. Tyler's young and didn't know better—he probably made a mess in your office playing around. I know those files were important. You have every right to be upset. It's my fault for being a single dad, trying to juggle work and childcare—I just couldn't keep an eye on him properly. That Instagram post didn't mean anything bad. I was just thanking Victoria for taking care of Tyler. I used the wrong words and caused this misunderstanding. If you're still angry, take it out on me. Don't let this damage your relationship with Victoria." What a textbook guilt-trip performance. The pain in my stomach made it hard to hold my phone. Before I could respond, Victoria replied almost instantly. "Ryan, you don't need to apologize. I'm the one who said Tyler could stay in Ethan's office. Those files are important, but are they more important than a child's happiness and a single father's struggles? Drop the petty attitude. This office situation is over. Anyone who brings it up again is crossing me." With the boss taking that stance, all the yes-men employees jumped in to condemn my pettiness and defend Ryan. Everyone knew Ryan was Victoria's golden boy now. Who cared about a CEO's husband in name only? I didn't bother watching the show unfold. I exited the chat, grabbed my car keys, and headed to the hospital. The stabbing pain eased somewhat during the drive. One of the company employees called me. I frowned but answered anyway. "Ethan Hayes, Ryan has a client dinner tonight but something came up. Victoria says you need to go immediately." A junior employee calling me by my full name, dropping even the courtesy of "Mr. Hayes." I laughed bitterly. The lapdog barks when the master points. "I'm not available." My voice was flat, emotionless. The caller clearly hadn't expected a refusal. "Victoria said if you don't go, don't bother coming back." "Oh?" I let out a soft acknowledgment. "That's what Victoria said?" "Yes!" The employee thought they had me scared. "Victoria herself said it! If you don't go, you're fired! If you know what's good for you, you'll get over there right—" "Perfect." I cut them off. "Tell Victoria for me..." I paused. "I quit." I hung up without hesitation. Instant silence. As I stumbled along the wall toward the registration desk, clutching my stomach— A commotion erupted in the hospital lobby. "You quack! What kind of doctor are you? My son's head is killing him and you examine him for half an hour just to say nothing's wrong?" It was Victoria.
She was glaring at a middle-aged doctor in glasses who looked exhausted. I'd never seen her this unhinged before. My feet stopped dead, like they'd been nailed to the floor. "Ma'am, please calm down!" The doctor's voice carried helpless frustration. "We've examined your son. His temperature is normal at 98.6°F. Chest and lung sounds are clear. His mental state seems fine. He says his head hurts, but it might be from getting excited earlier or playing too hard. We genuinely haven't found anything physically wrong. You can't accuse me of incompetence just because a child is crying—" "Bullshit!" Victoria cut him off viciously. "What do you know? You're a useless quack! If you delay treating my son, can you handle the consequences? Get me your supervisor. I'm filing a complaint!" "Mommy..." Tyler lifted his head from her arms, his face flushed and healthy-looking—nothing like a sick child. Victoria immediately looked down, her fury melting into tenderness and concern. "Tyler, sweetheart, don't be scared. Mommy's here. Mommy will find you a good doctor." I leaned against the wall, watching this scene, feeling the pain shift from my stomach to my heart. Five years of marriage. Countless careful hints and hopes from my parents, all ending in resigned sighs. Because Victoria didn't like children. She hated them. To honor that wish, I'd defied my parents again and again, shouldering all the family pressure. I thought that was respect. That was love. But what the hell was this? Here she was with my assistant's son—a child with no blood relation to her—so anxious she'd lost all composure, screaming at a doctor over a minor complaint. She turned with the child in her arms and spotted me. Her brows immediately knitted together. "Ethan? Are you following me?" I ignored her and kept moving toward my scheduled appointment. "Stop!" She caught up, her tone like she was scolding an employee. "Why didn't you go to the Anderson dinner? Kevin said you hung up on him? Are you trying to sabotage us?!" I didn't turn around, my voice ice-cold. "I have a doctor's appointment. For my stomach." Silence behind me for a beat. She seemed to remember. "Your stomach? You... today was your follow-up..." Her tone softened slightly. "Why didn't you say something earlier? Can't you just tough out the old problem? The Anderson deal is crucial! Ryan can't make it—you're the only one who can step in!" Didn't say something? I'd told her weeks ago. "Can't you just go to the dinner first and... I'll come with you tomorrow instead?" The pain had my vision going black. I grabbed the handrail to stay upright. Seeing my condition, she conceded reluctantly. "Fine. Which doctor are you seeing? I'll come with you to speed things up, then we'll head straight to the hotel..." Even now—even like this—she still wanted me to go drink for business. Victoria. Do you even have a heart? She took a few steps toward me, Tyler in her arms. "Wahhh!" Tyler suddenly burst into tears, kicking his legs violently. "No! I want to go home! I want Daddy! Mommy, find Daddy!" His crying instantly consumed all of Victoria's attention. "Tyler, sweetheart, don't cry!" She stopped immediately, patting him anxiously. "Where does it hurt? Mommy will take you home right now. We'll find Daddy, okay?" She didn't spare me another glance. Carrying the crying child, she turned and rushed toward the exit. "Yes, we'll find Daddy. We're leaving now! Good boy, Tyler. Mommy will get you something yummy..." She moved fast, her figure disappearing through the door, the crying fading. I caught Tyler making a face at me over her shoulder. The hallway was empty except for me. The stomach pain exploded. Something sweet and metallic rose in my throat. I swallowed it down hard, cold sweat soaking through my shirt. The door opened. The doctor emerged with my results, his face dark as thunder. He slapped the report on the desk, his hand actually trembling. "Look at this yourself. Your ulcer is this severe—you're almost perforated. And these bleeding spots—if you keep ignoring this, it'll turn cancerous! How old are you? Do you understand?!" The doctor's voice rose with anger. "How did you destroy your stomach like this? Do you have a death wish? Drinking like water, aren't you? Your stomach is worse than an eighty-year-old's!" I opened my mouth to explain—the business dinners, the sacrifices for her company, for her... But my throat felt blocked. I couldn't get a single word out. A stranger cared more about me than my own wife did. Seeing me in too much pain to speak, the doctor was both furious and anxious. "Immediate hospitalization. One more incident like this and even God can't save you. Sign here." "Doctor... can I delay admission a few days?" I forced the words out through the pain. "I need to... handle my resignation paperwork." The old doctor's eyes widened. "You're in this condition and you're still thinking about work? What job pays enough to be worth your life? You—" He looked at my pale face and the cold sweat on my forehead. His words caught in his throat, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Delaying a few days... should be manageable. But absolutely no more alcohol." "Thank you..." My voice came out hoarse. The next day, my stomach still burned like fire, but it was better than yesterday. I forced myself to go to the company. The moment I reached what used to be my VP office, my feet stopped cold.
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