Chapter 1

My husband lies to me about working late on Christmas Day. I know he wants to give me a surprise—I saw a jewelry set worth millions of dollars in his pocket.

However, all I receive is the news of him pretending to be Santa Claus as he delivers a gift to his female secretary.

She flaunts it on social media. "You're the most precious Christmas gift I've gotten."

My husband changes the background photo on his social media to a photo of them together.

I smile and like the post. Later, the secretary comes to me and smugly says she's pregnant. Meanwhile, I pull out a diagnosis report verifying that my husband is sterile. "Checkmate!"

She visibly panics.

Chapter 1

By the time Yves Golding got home, it was already midnight.

I was lying in bed, staring at a photo of him and Melissa Lane. His abs showed faintly beneath his red Santa suit as she leaned against them, eyes shyly closed.

Their colleagues had left comments below the post, saying that they were a perfect match and that Yves was quite bold.

Melissa commented, "You guys, stop making things up. Mr. Golding was just being kind by keeping a lonely soul like me company for Christmas!"

Just then, a drunken Yves embraced me from behind, his wandering hands becoming restless.

I reached out and turned the light on. The love bites on his neck were glaringly red and prominent.

I held my phone to his face and coldly asked, "Is this what you meant by having things to do?"

A flicker of panic flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by impatience. "You're even jealous over this? It's just a superior being empathetic toward a subordinate," he said.

"Besides, it's not as if you don't know this about me. I can't stand women who are poor and dumb."

Although he said this, his gaze had a hint of fondness. It was completely devoid of the disdain he had first shown when talking about Melissa.

Just a week ago, I told him that since our wedding anniversary is on Christmas day, I wanted to have a proper celebration with him.

He had impatiently replied, "Why should we celebrate Christmas too? You're so ridiculous."

I admit that I had been gaslit at the time, especially after I had just seen the luxury jewelry set worth over nine million dollars in his suit pocket.

But now, Melissa was wearing that exact same jewelry set.

At my silence, Yves climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips against mine.

The stench of alcohol wafting off him sickened me. When I thought about how his tongue was about to invade my mouth—and how I didn't even know where else that tongue had been—I quickly pushed him away, saying, "It's really late, and I'm exhausted. Let's turn in early."

Yves was visibly stunned when he heard me give the same excuse he'd often use. His expression darkened as he snapped, "Cynthia York, don't forget that you were the one who insisted on recruiting Melissa into the company back then.

"You said that she came from a poor family and that she was hardworking and ambitious. You asked me to look after her more.

"There were several times I wanted to replace her, but you wouldn't let me. So what do you want now?"

Yves was quite the chatterbox that night.

"I just want to sleep," I said. Ignoring him, I got up and walked toward the guest room.

I wasn't making a fuss. I didn't plan to throw divorce papers at him and storm out. I wasn't pregnant, so I could not arrange a dramatic escape with a child. There also wasn't a melodramatic tragedy of me going through chemotherapy.

Yves was the one who should leave instead. He was the one who should be penniless.

I was just afraid that he was diseased—and that he'd infect me.

…

For as long as I've known Yves, he had always been a man of few words. Just when did he start to change?

It seemed to have started when Melissa became his secretary.

"This Mel… whatever her name is, she's so dumb. Didn't you say that she graduated from a top college? Why does it take her days to finish a simple presentation? It's full of typos, too."

That was the first time Yves mentioned Melissa and the first time I had heard him speak about someone with such distaste.

And yet, I was the one who felt inexplicably humiliated.

Chapter 2

The second time Yves mentioned Melissa before me was when I noticed a coffee stain on his favorite luxury suit. I asked him what happened.

He replied, "It was Melissa. She's so clumsy in everything she does. If it weren't for the fact that you arranged for her hire, I would've fired her already."

The third time was when I found a cup of bubble tea in his car. Yves never drank bubble tea, let alone a cup of very sweet bubble tea.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he said, "Melissa bought it. After getting her paycheck, she treated everyone on the 52nd floor to a drink, saying it was her way of thanking us for looking out for her. It's my first time trying bubble tea, and it actually tastes pretty good."

A cup of bubble tea cost almost 15 dollars, and there were more than a hundred employees in the office.

It seemed that Yves was very generous with Melissa's salary. Even after paying for her mother's hospital bills, her father's chemotherapy, her brother's tuition fees, and her grandmother's living expenses, she still had enough left to treat that many people to bubble tea.

After that, Yves couldn't hide the smile in his eyes whenever he talked about her.

It was only when I mentioned wanting to return to work in the office that I saw him panic for the first time.

"Cyn, your main duty right now is to take care of your health and give birth to the Golding family's grandson," he said.

We had been married for three years, yet we still did not have a child. My mother-in-law had long been displeased by this.

If it weren't for my family name, she would have already said that I had "an unwelcoming home".

…

I ended up barely sleeping that night.

When I got up, the maids had already prepared breakfast.

Yves came downstairs just as I finished eating. He rubbed his temples and addressed me like he would a maid, "Cynthia, grits."

Previously, whenever he drank too much, I would cook shrimp and grits for him the morning after. I had considered having the maids do it, but he once said that only the grits I made cured his hangover the best.

"Ms. Willow, Mr. Golding wants grits," I called out toward the kitchen.

"Okay, Mrs. Golding. I'll make some right away."

Yves' expression darkened, and he looked reproachfully at me. Displeased, he barked, "Forget it! Cynthia, I'll see how long you will keep this up!"

He grabbed his freshly ironed suit jacket from a maid and stormed off to the car.

My mother-in-law, Emma Bennett, stood on the stairs watching. She was probably aware that we had fought the night before.

"Thia, I'm not blaming you, but you were married into the Golding family to raise children and look after your husband.

"You don't even have a child yet, and now you can't even take care of Yves?"

I raised an eyebrow at that. "What if he's the one who can't have children? Why don't you ask Yves if the problem lies with him?

"Plus, with so many maids in this house, why must I care for him? He doesn't even pay me a salary."

Given how I always appeared docile, Emma clearly hadn't expected me to talk back. Her outstretched finger trembled as she uttered, "You're truly a lady from a lesser family… You have no manners at all!"

"Oh? A former dancer such as yourself really sees herself as some upper-class lady now, huh?" I retorted. "And don't forget. If I—from a 'lesser family'—hadn't married into yours, Golding Corp wouldn't even be in this industry today."

I didn't bother listening to what she said after that.

Mom was right. Emma was a mistress with a terrible character. And him, the son of a mistress? His character was hardly any better.

It was true. Yves had inherited his father's adultery habits and his mother's shamelessness.

When Melissa's image flashed in my mind, I realized that she even looked somewhat similar to Emma. It seemed like mistresses all had a certain look in common.

…

After breakfast, I went to the office. At the same time, I sent a message to that person on my phone. "I'll cooperate."

The reply from them came quickly. "Okay!"

The receptionist at the front desk was a newcomer, so she didn't recognize me. She stepped forward and blocked my way.

I slowly adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses and smiled at her. "Where's Jeanie?"

Chapter 3

"Jeanie was dismissed by Ms. Lane for making a mistake. Miss, who are you?" the new receptionist asked.

"I am Yves' wife."

"Mr. Golding got married?" she asked a young woman beside her. The young woman shook her head, indicating that she didn't know.

I didn't bother making things difficult for them. After all, I hadn't been to the company in nearly two years.

I simply pointed to the phone at the front desk and said, "Tell Mr. Golding that Cynthia York wants to see him."

"You should set an appointment with Ms. Lane first. Mr. Golding isn't someone you can just see whenever you want," the receptionist said somewhat dismissively.

"Please contact her for me. I don't have my phone," I responded.

The two receptionists exchanged a glance, and then one of them dialed the number.

She explained the situation, but on the other end, a scolding voice replied, "Mr. Golding has said that anyone who wants to see him must make an appointment! Do you not understand?"

"But she said she's Mr. Golding's wife."

"This 'anyone' includes his wife! Does Mr. Golding pay your salary, or does his wife? Quickly get rid of her!"

After saying this, a beeping sound came from the other end of the call. The arrogance of the other party was something else.

After the receptionist hung up, she looked awkwardly at me and said nothing for a long time.

I was going to force my way in, but she shouted for security to come stop me. "Ms. York, please don't make things difficult for us. Ms. Lane said we can't let you go up."

Frowning, I said, "Melissa is just a secretary, yet you all heed her words so well."

"Mr. Golding said that when he's not around, Ms. Lane will handle all the company matters."

It seemed that Yves had forgotten who the largest shareholder at Golding Corp really was. I took my phone out and dialed his number before the receptionist's confused gaze.

Every call I made was immediately hung up on.

…

Later on, I was brought upstairs by the driver.

If Mom knew that I had been cheated on and then stopped from entering the company, especially by a mistress, she would surely laugh and say I deserved it.

When Yves proposed to me, she was already dubious about him. She said that he had the look of an opportunist and was marrying me just to use my resources to save Golding Corp.

However, the love-struck me didn't listen to her.

At that time, Yves had just been legally recognized after being labeled a bastard child.

We went to the same school, and before, he was often bullied by his sister, Mindy Golding. She would viciously scold him and beat him up hard. Whenever I saw this, I couldn't just stand idly by.

Over time, we became a couple. To be exact, I was the one who unilaterally declared us one. I told him that if he got together with me, I could protect him.

Yves believed me. Every day, he brought me breakfast, and I would tell him that our maid had already prepared some. He would reply that it was his heartfelt gesture.

Looking back on it, why did he choose breakfast out of all the three main meals? It was because breakfast was cheap to buy. It seemed that he thought that I was only worthy of a cheap meal.

After three years of marriage, the most expensive gift he gave me was the broken diamond ring I was wearing at that moment. However, yesterday, he gave Melissa jewelry worth over nine million dollars.

Without thinking, I took off the ring and threw it into the trash can.

I deserved better than this.

…

When Melissa saw me, she had none of the arrogant attitude from the phone call just now. She poured me a cup of coffee and timidly retreated to Yves' office.

I glanced at the necklace around her neck. It was indeed beautiful.

Golding Corp's CEO's office felt more like a child's playhouse than an office. Every inch was adorned with red and green decorations. Even the Christmas decorations in malls couldn't compare to the ones in his office.

The first button dial on the office phone was plastered with a sticker of Melissa's face.

There was a pink Happy Capy cup on the desk. The chair cushion was also a pink Happy Capy pillow. The desktop had numerous Happy Capy items, and even the folders had been replaced with Happy Capy ones.

Chapter 4

I began to suspect that Golding Corp was selling Happy Capy merchandise instead.

"Mel, please pour me a glass of warm water," someone said. The voice came from the lounge area.

Mel? Yves sure didn't hold back when calling out to her.

With a calm expression, I poured a glass of hot water and walked into the lounge. The moment he saw me, he became a little flustered. "What… What are you doing here?"

"You're such a big shot that I even need an appointment to enter my own company." I sneered.

I calmly looked at him as he took the cup, drank a large gulp, and quickly spat the water out.

"Hot! Whot did youth do?" His tongue was so burned that his speech became slurred.

"Just disinfecting your mouth a little," I replied.

I looked at the lipstick mark on his shirt with disdain. It was the same shade as what Melissa was wearing.

I added, "If you keep licking cheaply made lipstick, you'll end up with lead poisoning."

Yves changed into a new shirt before coming up with a poor excuse. He said, "Don't misunderstand. Melissa fell, and I just happened to catch her."

"Really? She just happened to fall on your shirt collar? What a coincidence.

"It seems like it won't wash off. This shirt is custom and handmade in Kintaly. Melissa probably can't even afford it with several years' worth of her salary," I said. I raised my brows and looked at Yves.

"It's just a shirt. I can buy a new one. Why make things difficult for others? You weren't like this before," Yves retorted.

It seemed like he really had forgotten. In just half a year, he had forgotten that this was the birthday gift I gave to him. He even said he would cherish it.

Melissa, with her head lowered, brought in a cup of coffee. She was about to leave after setting it down when Yves called out to her, "Bring me the bidding document for the project in North City."

"It's… It's here," Melissa stuttered as she dug it out from the many folders on Yves' desk and handed it to him.

When he sensed the strangeness in her voice, Yves furrowed his brow and asked, "What's wrong?"

She looked up, and instantly, a teardrop fell into the coffee. Her eyes were slightly reddened, with tears welling up in them. There was also a clear handprint mark on her cheek.

"Who did this?" Yves asked, his gaze full of distress.

Melissa said nothing and simply turned to look at me. Another teardrop slipped down her face again. She really looked quite pitiful. Even though I didn't say anything, just her one expression conveyed a thousand words.

Was she an actress? It would be a shame if she didn't enter the acting industry.

"Cynthia, did you hit her?" Yves snapped.

Melissa held his wrist and gently shook it. "No… It wasn't Mrs. Golding. It was my mistake."

"No matter what the mistake was, hitting someone is wrong, let alone slapping them. Cynthia, what you did is too harmful to one's dignity!"

I began, "Where did you—"

However, Melissa interrupted me as soon as I spoke. She choked up, saying, "I-It's… It's because I didn't know… I-I shouldn't have told the receptionists to stop Mrs. Golding… I didn't know…"

Yves' distressed gaze lingered on Melissa's face before he pulled her over to stand before me.

At that moment, I was seated on the couch and savoring my tea. When I looked at the two of them, I took a small sip and remarked, "This tea is delicious."

Yves snatched the teacup from my hand and glared fiercely at me. "Apologize to Mel right now!"

"Apologize for what?" I asked, tilting my head.

"You hit someone, yet you're still this audacious!"

"I hit someone?"

"You hit Mel! Look at her swollen cheek!"

I stood up and leaned closer to Melissa. "I hit you?"

"N-No. Mr. Golding, Mrs. Golding didn't hit me. I fell…"

Then, I graciously slapped Melissa's face twice, the sound echoing through the room.

"Now, I've indeed hit you," I said.

Melissa acted like she had suffered a great injustice. Covering her face, she ran out of the office in tears.

Chapter 5

Before Yves left, he berated me, "My tolerance for you is not a ticket for you to cause unreasonable trouble. If I catch you doing it again, we'll get a divorce!"

In our three years together, this was the first time he had threatened me with a divorce.

I smiled bitterly, losing even the last shred of hope I held.

…

After the argument, Yves didn't come home for an entire month.

To appease Melissa, he took her on a worldwide trip. He took her to Nartic to see the penguins, to Sartica to see the aurora, to San Melini to see the ocean, and to Tornky to ride in a hot air balloon. He even took her to Izland to enjoy some barbecue at the foot of a volcano.

I saw all of this from Melissa's posts on social media.

Meanwhile, Yves himself posted something, which was unusual behavior for him. His caption read, "To me, all others are mere blades of grass, but you're the only towering mountain."

I liked the post, and he deleted it instantly. It seemed like he had forgotten to block me. However, I had no time to worry about that shameless couple.

Yves had disregarded an important bidding project for that secretary of his, drawing the dissatisfaction of many senior board members.

If the bidding project succeeded, Golding Corp would secure its foothold in the legal and underworld business industries.

As the largest shareholder of Golding Corp, I had to step up and stabilize the situation.

For the past month, I had been busy running around and no longer looked forward to Yves coming home like I did before. I was living a much more fulfilled life.

On the day of the bid, when the others saw that Yves himself hadn't even attended and instead sent someone unfamiliar, their gazes were full of disdain.

"Mr. Golding isn't even bothering to show up for such a major project?"

"Haven't you heard? Mr. Golding prioritizes love over business."

"That's no ordinary woman. She's like Cleopatra."

"It's not as if there aren't plenty of women to choose from. At this rate, Golding Corp is doomed."

To say these people respected women was a lie. They'd treat them as playthings. But if you thought that they looked down on women, that wasn't true either, as they believed that women had the power to bring a nation down to its knees.

The government official reviewed all the submitted proposals without showing any signs of satisfaction.

I had my assistant hand over my proposal. The government official was close to feeling completely disappointed, but just when she had almost given up, the average solution I presented felt near perfect to her.

Her expression lit up with surprise as she stood up. While holding the proposal, she asked, "Ms. York, are you from Golding Corp?"

I respectfully rose to my feet and nodded. "I'm a shareholder," I corrected.

A short while later, she answered an incoming call. Then, she announced, "We've decided to go with Golding Corp's proposal."

It was as I expected—the Bureau of Land Management chief's wife wanted to build the country's largest and most humane hospital, specializing in providing medical care for women and children, regardless of their wealth.

Men always tended to focus on making things the largest and most high-tech, while women often considered the opposite. Humanity would always be more important than technology.

…

The bureau chief's wife, Queenie Reed, would be attending the celebration dinner that evening.

What I didn't expect was that Yves had also come to the party—and that he had brought Melissa along.

Due to having menstrual cramps, I ended up being half an hour late. After getting an injection to help relieve my cramps, I rushed to the banquet.

At the entrance of the private dining room, I overheard Yves say, "Melissa thought of this proposal during our travels. Foreign hospitals are much more compassionate than domestic ones. She built upon those ideas and added her personal insights. I never expected the bureau chief's wife to like it so much. It's an honor for her."

The others present began flattering her, saying, "I never imagined that such a proposal could come from a freshly graduated young lady. It seems that Golding Corp is full of talent."

"Ms. Lane is truly both talented and beautiful. A perfect blend of intelligence and grace."

"Could she be Mr. Golding's capable wife?"

"Mr. Golding, Ms. Lane wasn't the person at the bidding that day. If I recall correctly, her name was Cynthia York." Just then, a familiar voice spoke up. That person had arrived.