Her Sweetheart Beaten, Our Marriage Over

My CEO wife watched with cold indifference as I was humiliated for three years. But even a cornered rabbit will bite, and I’m no rabbit. “I’ll beat the hell out of your precious childhood sweetheart every time I see him.” The night I asked for a divorce, she got drunk and kissed me.

1. I was dreaming. A back-alley brawl, a brick raised high in my hand. Suddenly, a searing pain exploded across my face. My eyes snapped open to a startling scene. I was in a conference room, easily over a thousand square feet, filled with more than a dozen people in sharp business suits. They were all staring at me with amusement. Standing before me was a man with slicked-back hair and a smug face, shaking out his hand. Unless I was mistaken, he had just slapped me. Before I could process it, he spoke. “Cole, sleeping in a meeting is one thing, but snoring? Evelyn is speaking. Are you trying to provide background music?” “You son of a…” I was about to let him have it when a flood of memories that weren’t mine slammed into my brain. My name is Cole Evans, husband to Evelyn Stone, the CEO of Stone Industries. We’ve been married for three years, but I’ve never even touched her. I hold a meaningless position at the company, a punching bag for anyone who feels like taking a swing. The man who hit me is Miles, the company’s Vice President and Evelyn’s childhood friend. I touched my cheek. The texture of the skin felt different. The stinging pain, however, was very real. At the head of the table, Evelyn glanced at me, a flicker of a frown on her perfect face, before her eyes returned to the documents in her hand. She was undeniably beautiful. Paired with that icy demeanor, she was the quintessential ice queen. It was no wonder the original Cole had endured three years of misery just to be near her. “Continue,” she said calmly, her voice even. It was as if me getting slapped was of no consequence to her at all. Miles smirked, poking a finger into my chest. “Next time, don’t even bother showing up to embarrass yourself…” His words were cut off by a sharp cry of pain. I had caught his jabbing finger and bent it back. Hard. Everyone in the room froze. The looks of amusement vanished, replaced by something else, something uncertain. Miles doubled over, his face turning a dark shade of purple. “Let go! You son of a bitch, let go of me!” His yelling only made me squeeze harder. I watched the sweat bead on his forehead as I spoke, my voice low and steady. “Mr. Miles, did no one ever teach you to keep your hands to yourself when you talk?” At that moment, Evelyn looked up again, her voice laced with a clear warning. “Cole!” I glanced at her, then applied more pressure. Miles dropped to his knees with a pained gasp. A collective intake of breath echoed through the room. Then I let go. As Miles scrambled to get up, I kicked his shin, sweeping his legs out from under him.

2. He collapsed to the floor in a heap. The conference room fell into a dead silence. Evelyn’s expression finally changed. Those calm, placid eyes were now burning with fury as she stared at me. I met her gaze without flinching. “Evelyn, if you can’t keep your dog on a leash, I’ll do it for you.” Miles was still on the floor, more humiliated than he’d likely ever been in his life. His usually composed face was twisted with rage. He stammered, his lips trembling, “You… you… you…” The other executives finally snapped out of their shock. They looked like they wanted to scold me, as they usually would, but seeing the feral look in my eyes, they all held their tongues. Evelyn threw her pen down on the table. “Cole. Apologize.” How laughable. My cheek was still throbbing, yet my own wife was demanding I apologize to the man who hit me. The original owner of this body must have had the patience of a saint. “Fine,” I said. I crouched down, grabbing the back of Miles’s neck. “Mr. Miles…” THUD. I slammed his forehead into the polished floor. “Sorry if I hit you too hard.” THUD. Another one. “My apologies.” THUD. The third. Three sentences, three solid cracks of his head against the ground. Miles’s eyes looked ready to shoot fire. I leaned in close to his ear. “Touch me again, and a few bumps on the head will be the least of your worries.” I stood up, brushing off my pants and ignoring Evelyn’s murderous glare as I walked out of the conference room. Once outside, I pulled out my phone. The black screen reflected an unfamiliar face. The features were delicate, almost too refined, but the complexion was pale and the eyes were listless. It was the face of a man who had been swallowing his anger for a very long time. More memories flooded in. The original Cole’s parents died young. He was adopted by Evelyn’s grandfather. Three years ago, on his deathbed, the old man forced the two of them to marry. Cole moved into Evelyn’s villa but they always slept in separate rooms. He was given the empty title of “Project Consultant,” a job with no duties other than to endure the entire company’s scorn. The receptionists would sneer at him. The cleaning lady would deliberately splash dirty water on him. And Miles found new ways to torment him almost daily. Through it all, Evelyn was a silent, cold observer. What a pathetic existence. I wondered if the poor bastard was paying for some past-life sins. I started chasing girls at three, ruled the neighborhood streets by five, was peeking into the girls’ locker room by ten, and by eighteen, I was a well-known brawler with a reputation. If it were me, I would have torn this entire company down. I checked my pockets. Nothing but the phone. I saw a few guys smoking on the terrace and walked right over, plucking a cigarette from one of their packs and sticking it in my mouth.

3. The guy was about to curse me out, but one look from me and he scurried away. I took a drag and immediately started coughing. This body was pathetically weak. In the middle of my coughing fit, the group of smokers suddenly scattered. I turned to see Evelyn standing there, her expression as frosty as ever. “When did you learn to fight?” she asked. I took another drag, blowing a smoke ring. “Just now.” “Miles is the Vice President of this company.” I stepped closer, until we were only a foot apart. “And? Does that make his slaps more valuable?” She was silent for a few seconds. “Grandfather said you weren’t to be bullied.” Coming from her, the words were a bitter irony. I smiled and blew a puff of smoke right in her face. Her expression immediately soured. “You…” I cut her off. “So what the hell have you been doing for the past three years? Stress-testing me?” Evelyn didn’t rise to the bait. She waved the smoke away from her face, her eyes falling on my cheek. “There’s a first-aid kit in my office. Go take care of that.” “Don’t need to,” I said, walking past her. “I’ll leave it as a reminder that this isn’t a place for human beings.” “Cole.” I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Don’t cause any more trouble.” I let out a short, sharp laugh and kept walking. “Tell that to Miles. And one more thing—the divorce papers will be on your desk tomorrow. It’s for the best. For both of us.” I didn’t wait to see her reaction. Relief, probably. I skipped the office and went straight to HR to request a resignation form. The young woman at the desk looked at me like she’d seen a ghost, fumbling for what felt like an eternity before pulling a form from the bottom of a drawer. “M-Mr. Evans,” she stammered, “this needs Ms. Stone’s signature…” “Then get her to sign it.” I stuffed the form in my pocket. “Put me down for a personal day. I’m leaving.” As I walked out, the two receptionists, who had been huddled over a phone, snapped to attention and went silent. It seemed my reputation was preceding me. I shot them a grin. One of them fumbled her phone, nearly dropping it. Felt good. The elevator arrived from the underground garage. Inside stood Miles, flanked by two of his yes-men from the project department. The look in Miles’s eyes was murderous. I hesitated for a second, then, instead of leaving, I stepped right into the elevator with them. The doors slid shut, and the air turned to ice. “Cole,” Miles hissed, his voice tight with rage. “This isn’t over.” I watched the floor numbers light up. “Yeah, you’re right about that.” He blinked, then sneered. “You think acting tough for a day changes anything? Evelyn is only tolerating you because of her grandfather. Once that wears off, you’re nothing.” The elevator reached the fifth floor. The doors opened to reveal a few people waiting. They took one look at the scene inside and wisely decided to wait for the next one. The doors closed again. “Mr. Miles,” I said, turning to face him. “Your ‘Star Vista Plaza’ project… the building material quotes are inflated by about thirty percent, wouldn’t you say?” The color drained from his face. “The supplier, ‘Apex Materials,’ is owned by your uncle,” I continued. “Last Wednesday night, you took him to the Gilded Canary club. Two bottles of Lafite, charged to the company’s expense account.” I paused. “Oh, right. There were two girls that night, too. Also part of the ‘entertainment,’ I presume.” The two cronies next to him had gone pale. Miles’s lips trembled. “You… What the hell are you talking about?” The elevator reached the ninth floor. I slammed my hand on the emergency stop button. With a loud groan, the elevator jolted to a halt between floors. “Are you insane?” Miles shrieked, his eyes wide with terror. I didn’t answer. I just drove my foot into his stomach. He grunted, clutching his gut as he crumpled to the floor. His two goons made a move, but I pointed a finger at them. “You move an inch, and the evidence of your kickbacks will be in the ethics committee’s inbox by morning.” They froze. I grabbed a fistful of Miles’s hair, hauling him up from the floor, and drove my knee into his stomach. He gagged, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Listen up,” I whispered, my mouth next to his ear. “I have five copies of all your dirty laundry. If you ever mess with me again, they will find their way to all the right people.” His eyes were wide with terror. I let him go, and he collapsed in a heap. “So from now on, you see me, you walk the other way. You say one more word to me, and I’ll drown you in a septic tank.” I hit the button again, and the elevator resumed its ascent. When the doors opened, a crowd of people was waiting. They all stared, mouths agape, at the scene inside. I straightened my suit, stepped over the whimpering form of Miles, and walked out. It was 9 PM when I got back to the villa. To my surprise, Evelyn was sitting on the sofa, a laptop open in front of her, though she clearly wasn’t working. This was new. In three years of marriage, we had perfected the art of avoiding each other. Me in the guest room, her in the master bedroom, our use of the common areas carefully staggered. This was the first time she had ever waited up for me. I kicked off my shoes and headed for the guest room. “Cole.” She called my name, her voice stopping me in my tracks. I turned. She closed the laptop, her gaze landing on my bruised cheek. “Did you put anything on that?” “Don’t need to. I’ll live.”