Chapter 1

1.

It was 3 a.m. when an Instagram DM lit up my phone screen.

I opened it. A selfie of my husband, Jack Carter, and his executive assistant, Sienna Shaw. They were in bed together, the signature wallpaper of a boutique Napa Valley hotel in the background.

Sienna had even added a caption: "Hey, Eleanor. Jack's all tired out tonight. He fell asleep at my place ;)"

I stared at the photo of my husband's sleeping face. A single thought flashed through my mind.

Okay, Sienna. Challenge accepted.

I calmly took a screenshot, then opened the company-wide Slack channel for Lycan Analytics.

I dropped the photo into the chat and tagged everyone. "@here Breaking news! Congratulations to Sienna Shaw on her recent promotion, earned through her exceptional 'nighttime strategic support.' To celebrate this innovative partnership, I'll be personally funding a $500 'Transparency and Morale' bonus for every employee in this channel. Let's call it 'The Asshole Tax.' The finance department will process it on the next payday."

Once it was sent, I switched my phone to airplane mode.

Silence. Finally.

…

Three in the morning.

My phone screen glowed.

An Instagram DM from an account I didn't recognize.

I opened it. It was a photo.

My husband, Jack Carter. And his executive assistant, Sienna Shaw.

They were in bed together. Jack was on his side, sleeping soundly. Sienna had her arm wrapped around his, her head resting on his shoulder. She was awake, her eyes locked on the camera, a look of smug provocation on her face.

Beneath the photo, a single line of text: "Hey, Eleanor. Jack's all tired out tonight. He fell asleep at my place ;)"

That winking emoji was like a poisoned needle.

I stared at the picture for a long time. There was no anger. No tears. My heart felt like it had been seized by an icy hand and plunged into a bottomless, frozen lake. A kind of numbness I had long expected.

So this was her power play. How… creative.

I calmly took a screenshot. Saved it. Then I opened Slack. I found the '#general' channel I had created myself. Five hundred and two members. Me, Jack, every company employee, and a few key investors from the board.

I pasted the screenshot in. Then I started typing.

@here.

"Breaking news! Congratulations to Sienna Shaw on her recent promotion, earned through her exceptional 'nighttime strategic support.' To celebrate this innovative partnership, I'll be personally funding a $500 'Transparency and Morale' bonus for every employee in this channel. Let's call it 'The Asshole Tax.' The finance department will process it on the next payday."

I hit send.

I watched as the channel instantly flooded with "Thank you, Eleanor!" and a storm of shocked emojis. I allowed myself a small smile.

Then I closed Slack. Switched my phone to airplane mode. Tossed it onto the nightstand. Finally, some peace and quiet.

I lay back in bed and closed my eyes. Sleep wouldn't come. My mind was empty.

Jack and I had been married for ten years. We started in a garage in Palo Alto, fresh out of MIT and Stanford. Today, our company was valued in the billions, on the verge of a Nasdaq IPO.

Ten years. He went from a broke kid in a hoodie who dreamed of changing the world with code to "Mr. Jack Carter" on the cover of Forbes. And I went from a top systems architect to "Jack Carter's wife."

I chose to step back from the company's public face to create a single, star CEO image for Lycan, which was crucial for fundraising. We didn't even have kids. He said the Series A funding was too critical, we were too busy, maybe in a couple of years. Then a couple of years later, he said the company was preparing for an IPO, we should wait a little longer. We waited and waited, all the way to today. To a photo of him sleeping in someone else's bed.

Sienna Shaw. I remembered her. Twenty-four years old, a Berkeley grad. Young, beautiful, bursting with energy. She interviewed a year ago. I was one of the interviewers. I said her ambition was written all over her face, that she was too aggressive for the position. Jack said I was overthinking it. He said it was good for young people to be driven. He overruled everyone and hired her, placing her right by his side as his core executive assistant.

Now I understood. This is what he meant by "driven." Driven to climb into her boss's bed.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. The darkness blurred its edges, just like the future with Jack. No, we didn't have a future. Not since I sent that photo.

I didn't want to know if the Slack notifications would wake him. I didn't want to know how he would react when he saw the channel. I didn't want to know what a mess the company's stock would be in pre-market trading tomorrow morning.

I just felt tired. Ten years. It was like a long, long dream about a Silicon Valley startup. Now, I was awake. And that was for the best.