At exactly eight the next morning, six movers arrived at Yannan Bay.

I stood in the living room drinking coffee while my assistant, Vivian, checked the inventory.

—Ms. Jiang, everything belonging to Mr. Shen?

—Everything he brought into this marriage can stay.

Vivian looked at the single old suitcase beside the entrance.

Then she understood.

Ethan had entered my apartment five years ago carrying that suitcase.

Everything else had come later.

The suits.

The watches.

The golf clubs.

The imported coffee machine he insisted was necessary.

Even the black Mercedes parked downstairs.

All purchased through my personal accounts or companies controlled by the Jiang family.

—Pack it carefully —I said—. I don’t want him claiming we damaged anything.

At nine fifteen, Ethan came home.

He froze in the doorway.

Two movers were carrying boxes past him.

—What the hell is happening?

I didn’t look up from the divorce agreement.

—You’re moving.

—This is my home.

I finally raised my eyes.

—No.

I slid the property certificate across the table.

—It’s mine.

He stared at my name printed on it.

—We’re married.

—Not for much longer.

His gaze moved toward the closet.

Half of it was already empty.

—You can’t throw me out overnight.

—Actually, I can.

His face darkened.

Then Mia appeared behind him.

Of course she did.

She wore a pale dress and carried a paper bag.

—Mr. Shen didn’t sleep all night —she said softly—. I brought breakfast.

I almost admired her timing.

—Wonderful.

I pointed toward Ethan’s old suitcase.

—You can help him pack.

Mia’s face stiffened.

Ethan slammed his hand on the table.

—Enough, Jiang Ci!

The movers stopped.

He lowered his voice.

—Yesterday was embarrassing, but you’re taking this too far.

—Yesterday?

I laughed.

—You lied to me for months.

—Nothing happened between Mia and me!

—Then you’ll have plenty of time to prove that during the divorce.

His expression changed.

I pushed another document forward.

—And before you ask, yes, your access to my supplementary credit cards was canceled this morning.

He blinked.

—What?

—The Mercedes lease is under Jiang Holdings.

—My car?

—My car.

—The membership at Royal Lake Club?

—Mine.

—Your private medical insurance?

—Paid through one of my companies.

Every sentence stripped another layer from his confidence.

Mia stared at him differently now.

That was the fascinating part.

She had always looked at Ethan as though he were some self-made prince.

She apparently hadn’t realized how much of his kingdom had my surname printed underneath it.

His phone rang.

He answered angrily.

—What?

Silence.

His face changed.

—What do you mean my access card doesn’t work?

Another pause.

—I’ll come to the office.

He hung up and looked at me.

I smiled slightly.

—You should go.

Ethan narrowed his eyes.

—What did you do?

—Nothing that wasn’t already scheduled.

He left immediately.

Mia hesitated before following him.

I called after her.

—Mia.

She turned.

—Take the breakfast.

I looked at the paper bag.

—He’ll need it.

By eleven, Ethan finally understood why.

For five years, he had worked as deputy general manager of Shen-Yuan Capital.

What almost nobody outside the board knew was that the company’s largest institutional investor was Jiang Investment Group.

My father had invested when Ethan’s company was close to collapse.

Not because Ethan impressed him.

Because I had asked.

That morning, Jiang Investment Group exercised a contractual right triggered by financial irregularities discovered during an internal review.

Ethan wasn’t fired because I wanted revenge.

He was suspended because someone had approved questionable reimbursements, unauthorized entertainment expenses and contracts involving a vendor owned by Mia’s cousin.

At twelve seventeen, Ethan called.

I rejected it.

At twelve eighteen, again.

At twelve twenty-three, Vivian walked into my office.

—He’s downstairs.

—Let him up.

This time Ethan didn’t look angry.

He looked frightened.

—Did your family order the investigation?

—The audit began six weeks ago.

He stared at me.

—Six weeks?

—Before I knew about Mia.

I pushed a folder toward him.

His hands became stiff as he opened it.

Hotel reimbursements.

Restaurant bills.

Designer gifts.

A weekend resort reservation.

Two airline tickets.

One under his name.

The other under Mia Harper.

His lips went white.

—That trip was canceled.

—Interesting.

I turned another page.

—Because yesterday Mia told everyone you had never crossed any boundaries.

Ethan stopped speaking.

Then the office door opened.

Mia rushed in.

—Mr. Shen!

Her eyes were swollen.

—HR suspended me.

She saw me.

Her expression hardened.

—You did this.

—No.

Vivian placed another file on the desk.

—Ms. Harper submitted several personal expenses as client-development costs. The finance department flagged them.

Mia looked at Ethan.

—Tell her!

Ethan didn’t.

She grabbed his sleeve.

—You said you would protect me.

There it was.

Not “we’re innocent.”

Not “this is unfair.”

You said you would protect me.

I leaned back.

—Protect you from what?

Mia realized her mistake.

Too late.

Ethan pulled his arm away.

—Stop talking.

She stared at him.

Then something ugly flashed across her face.

—Now you’re afraid?

The room became silent.

—You weren’t afraid when you told me your marriage was practically over.

Ethan looked at me immediately.

Mia continued, almost hysterical.

—You said she was cold!

—You said you stayed married because her family was useful!

Ethan shouted:

—Shut up!

But the sentence had already landed.

I felt strangely calm.

Useful.

Five years of marriage reduced to one word.

I stood.

—Thank you, Mia.

Ethan stepped toward me.

—Ci, listen to me—

—Don’t call me that.

His voice cracked.

—I was angry when I said those things.

—Were you also angry when you booked the hotel?

He stopped.

That was enough.

The divorce took four months.

Ethan initially refused to sign.

Then my lawyers submitted the financial records, messages and testimony from the internal investigation.

He signed within forty-eight hours.

He kept his personal savings and everything legally belonging to him.

Which turned out to be much less than he had imagined.

Mia resigned before she could be dismissed.

Three months later, I heard she and Ethan had stopped speaking.

Apparently, affection became considerably less romantic once there were no luxury cars, private clubs or expensive dinners surrounding it.

I didn’t ask for details.

One year later, I was standing in the lobby of Jiang Holdings when Vivian handed me an envelope.

—From Ethan.

Inside was the old key to Yannan Bay.

And a note.

“I thought everything I had was something I earned myself.

Only after losing you did I realize how much of my life you quietly built around me.

I’m sorry.”

I read it once.

Then dropped it into the shredder.

That evening, I returned to Yannan Bay.

The apartment looked completely different.

His enormous wardrobe had become my reading room.

His wine cabinet held books.

The space where his golf clubs used to stand was filled with flowers.

I opened the balcony doors and looked at the city lights.

For years, Ethan had called me cold because I didn’t flatter him, serve him drinks or pretend helplessness made a woman lovable.

Mia had been sweet.

I had been useful.

At least, that was how he saw us.

He discovered too late that sweetness could be performed.

But loyalty couldn’t.

And neither could respect.

The morning I removed his belongings from my apartment, Ethan thought I was taking revenge.

He was wrong.

I wasn’t taking anything from him.

I was simply taking back everything that had always been mine—including myself.