Chapter 3

3.

Now, the time had come.

I knew about Chloe's addiction to peanut butter protein bars, "thanks" to an offhand comment from Ryan. Because of Caleb's allergy, our home was a strict peanut-free zone.

But a long time ago, while shopping at Whole Foods, Ryan casually tossed a few boxes of peanut butter-flavored protein bars into the cart.

When I questioned him, he answered carelessly, "Oh, someone at the office likes these. Just stocking up on snacks."

I teased him at the time. "That fitness fanatic, Chloe?"

His brow relaxed, and a smile played on his lips. "Yep, that's her. All business at work, but secretly obsessed with high-intensity interval training and these healthy snacks. It's a funny contrast."

So, when I found peanut butter crumbs in the back of his spotless Tesla, the answer was screamingly obvious.

Eating peanut butter snacks in another man's car, and then letting that man's son lie for her.

This "fitness fanatic" had some unique tastes.

Ryan refused to divorce.

That was expected. As a shrewd entrepreneur, he knew a divorce meant splitting assets, instability for his company, and a damaged public image.

But it didn't matter. The moment he drunkenly spoke the truth, the balance of power between us had already shifted.

Even though he disagreed, I threw the signed divorce agreement onto the glass coffee table in the living room.

Ryan saw the papers, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

"Emily, have I been too lenient with you? Do you really think you can use divorce as a bargaining chip?"

Perhaps successful men can never see their own faults. Did he really believe all these years that he was "gifting" me a stable life?

I tore down his facade without mercy.

"Lenient? You mean, by taking our son who has a deadly peanut allergy on a date with your 'soulmate'?"

"Was it allowing her to eat peanut snacks in your sacred temple of a car? Or was it teaching my son to use a life-threatening lie to deceive his own mother, just to protect that woman?"

"Ryan, what are peanuts to Caleb? They're a loaded gun! You used his life to win points with another woman!"

Seeing that I wouldn't let this go, he stopped adjusting his cuffs, turned, and stared at me with heavy eyes.

"So, there's no room for discussion? Have you thought about what you'll do after a divorce, Emily? You've been out of the workforce for seven years."

There it was again. Always hitting me with practical questions, making me doubt my own worth, just like when he convinced me to quit my job. Silicon Valley elites were masters at using data and reality to shut you up.

Seeing my silence, he thought he'd found my weak spot and softened his tone.

"Listen, why can't we just maintain the status quo? You're still Mrs. Miller. The limit on my credit card is more than enough for you to buy purses, go to spas, take any class you want. If you're bored..."

"Ryan," I cut him off coldly, "did you forget that when I graduated from Stanford, my starting salary was 30% higher than yours?"

"That crucial seed money for your company before your Series A funding? Half of it came from a loan from my parents and my pre-marital savings. And Caleb? I almost died bringing him into this world."

"If we're really going to calculate it, where would you be without me?"

He maintained his usual, composed elite facade. Even as I accused him, he showed little emotion.

"Emily, marriage requires work and compromise. Threatening divorce doesn't solve anything."

Listen to that. So sanctimonious. As if I were the one being unreasonable, the one destroying the foundation of our family.

I sat on the sofa, unmoved.

I knew he was waiting for me to back down. It was always like this. He just had to be silent, and the insecure part of me would start to self-reflect and then offer an apology.

Not this time.

"Sign it. I just want back what I initially invested, and the returns it..."

Before I could finish, Caleb suddenly burst out from the hallway.