My Cheating Husband Forgot I Built His Empire

That New Year’s Eve afternoon, my best friend Sasha’s floral shop received an order from my husband. I stared at the name on the shop’s mobile ordering app—three times, just to be sure. It was definitely Dean, my husband, who was supposedly away on a business trip. But the recipient wasn’t me. I dialed his number for a video call. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. Before I could launch my interrogation, Sasha, with a forced smile, squeezed into the frame. “Not even coming home for the holiday, Dean? What kind of apology gift are you sending Brooke?” she chirped, saving me from myself. The room behind him was pitch-black. Dean had the sheets pulled over his head, only his eyes visible, and the corner of his mouth twitched unnaturally. “Babe, I am so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back.” “I pulled an all-nighter yesterday. I’m exhausted. Just going back to sleep for a bit.” The interruption had given me a moment to calm the frantic beating in my chest. I mumbled a few non-committal words and hung up. I picked up the packaged bouquet and headed for the door. “I’ll take this delivery.” 1 The delivery address wasn’t far from the shop—a newly developed, upscale apartment called The Bluffs. The security guard stopped me at the gate. “No outside deliveries allowed past this point.” I pulled out Sasha’s shop phone and dialed the number on the order, putting on a slightly saccharine voice to explain the situation. Dean’s voice, clear and loud, came over the speaker. “This is Dean Sterling, owner of Unit 1603 in Building Five. She can come in.” The guard nodded, logged my license, and waved me through. Ding. The elevator door opened onto a plush, silent hallway. I took a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll go the rest of the way myself.” Sasha nodded, walking toward the nearby stairwell. “Yell if you need me.” I started the video recording on my phone, then pressed the doorbell. Dean’s muffled voice called out, “Honey, can you grab that?” A moment later, the door swung open. The woman on the other side froze. “Lily’s mom?” I, too, was stunned. This was Chloe Vance, Lily’s former art teacher. She had left her job six months ago, citing a difficult pregnancy. Was she carrying my husband’s child? Her gaze dropped to the flowers in my hand, then back up to mine. A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across her face—a mix of bashful pride and subtle provocation. “Lily’s mom, are you… doing deliveries now?” she asked, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. She wore a long, loose-fitting sleep dress. Her belly was dramatically, undeniably round. The paper wrapped around the flowers crumpled under the sudden, desperate tension in my grip. She reached out to take the bouquet, her expression all-too-solicitous. “Thank you so much. It must be freezing out. Why don’t you come in and warm up?” “I’d love to. Thank you for offering.” She faltered, clearly not expecting me to accept so readily. Her eyes darted quickly toward the kitchen before she smiled again and opened the shoe cabinet, pulling out a pair of slippers. The cabinet was full of men’s shoes. One pair—a pair of Italian leather oxfords I’d bought Dean last month—was right on top. They were the exact shoes he’d worn when he left for his supposed ‘trip.’ On a small console in the foyer was a framed, slightly cheesy photo of the two of them. Chloe inhaled the scent of the roses. “My husband is such a romantic. He never forgets a holiday. Always surprising me.” I gave a cold, small laugh. “Does he send flowers for tax day, too?” She paused, mouth half-open, then snapped back, slightly defensive. “Tough times since the divorce, huh? The socialite turned delivery driver.” I scanned the apartment’s open-concept living area. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the winter sun set over the sweeping panorama of Lake Bluffs. The view was breathtaking, but all I could feel was a profound, icy ache. A thousand tiny needles of pain spread through my body. “It is,” I agreed smoothly. “Not everyone can snag a successful CEO and climb the socioeconomic ladder the way you did, Chloe.” With the truth laid bare, her mask of politeness dissolved into smug satisfaction. “Dean would have divorced you years ago if it wasn’t for Lily. But my baby is more important. The moment I told him I was pregnant, he filed the papers.” “Filed the papers?” I asked, feeling a strange calm settle over the shock. “Don’t play dumb. Dean told me everything. He only goes back once a month to keep up appearances for Lily. Now that you’ve seen us, just be smart about this. Stop trying to cling to him.” She lifted her chin, radiating confidence. “I know exactly how women like you operate.” Just then, Dean emerged from the kitchen, carefully carrying a bowl of freshly brewed chicken soup. He put it on the dining table, then reached for a ladle. He hadn’t seen me yet. Chloe wrapped her arm around his, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Honey, we have a guest.” Dean turned. The moment he saw me, his hand jerked, and the porcelain bowl crashed onto the hardwood floor, shattering into sharp pieces. “What are you doing here!” he yelled. Chloe sighed a showy, theatrical sigh. “Lily’s mom is having a hard time. She’s delivering flowers now.” Dean glanced at the bouquet on the table, realizing that the delivery voice on the intercom had sounded vaguely familiar. He paled, stumbling toward me. He reached out, panicked. “Brooke, let me explain, this—” Chloe yanked his arm back, staking her claim. “You two are divorced, Dean. What’s there to explain?” “Lily’s mom, Dean will cover the child support for Lily, but don’t be pathetic and try to chase after him.” I held Dean’s gaze, my voice steady. “We are getting divorced,” I said, not as a question, but as a final decree. 2 Dean yanked his arm free of Chloe and grabbed mine, pulling me toward the exit. “We need to talk outside. Chloe is heavily pregnant; don’t frighten her.” Chloe gasped, then slid her foot—perhaps intentionally—onto a shard of porcelain. She lost her balance and crashed to the floor, grabbing Dean’s pant leg. “Dean! My stomach!” Dean’s focus instantly shifted. He hoisted her up frantically. “Chloe, don’t panic. I’m taking you to the hospital.” His elbow slammed into my lower back as he spun away, sending a jolt of searing pain through me. “Ah!” Dean paused, looking back over his shoulder for a split second. “Brooke…” Chloe let out a pained whimper, cutting him off. He looked down at the agony on her face, his features contorted with concern, and sped toward the door. I walked out slowly, Sasha rushing over from the stairwell to steady me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I lied. Sasha held up her phone, showing me a conversation with her brother, a corporate lawyer. “I told Grant to start looking into any suspicious asset transfers. Just in case.” I nodded gratefully, sending her the video I’d just recorded. “The woman is Chloe Vance, Lily’s former art teacher. Have Grant draft a full divorce agreement for me now.” “I’ll take you home.” Sasha insisted I was in no state to drive. She drove me home, then took Lily to her place for a couple of days. Grant was astonishingly fast. The moment I got home, the initial documents landed in my inbox. The house and car in Chloe’s name, plus wire transfers, amounted to nearly seven million dollars. A year ago, Dean had told me the subsidiary needed him to travel constantly. Turns out, he was establishing a luxurious second life with Chloe the entire time. I immediately called the company’s CFO. “Mr. Wallace, please send me the financial statements for the main company and all subsidiaries for the last three years.” “Mrs. Sterling, company financials are confidential. You don’t have the authority to view them.” “I am a majority shareholder!” There was a two-second pause on the line. “I will need to get Mr. Sterling’s signed approval before releasing any documents to you, Madam.” Good. Very good. Since my first pregnancy, I had retreated from the business world, spending my days shopping, getting spa treatments, and raising my daughter. Everyone thought I had simply married well. It seemed even Dean had forgotten that I was still the company’s largest shareholder—and had the authority to fire him at any moment. I started clearing out the house. I threw open the walk-in closet and pulled Dean’s clothes out, one by one, tossing them onto the floor, tearing and stomping on them like a madwoman until the fury subsided into exhaustion. As I emptied the last shelf, a small, clear storage bin slid out of the corner. It contained all the things Dean had given me during our four years in college. A tulip-shaped LED nightlight. A backpack he’d sewn himself. A silver hair clip he’d designed. Jars filled with paper stars on which he’d written out sweet memories. His family hadn’t had money then. He couldn’t afford expensive gifts, so most of them were things he’d made by hand. I hugged the bin to my chest and cried until the sun came up. The next day, my mother-in-law (MIL) and sister-in-law (SIL) stormed into the chaotic apartment, immediately launching into a loud tirade. “Brooke Sterling, have you lost your mind? You smashed all this expensive stuff! Do you think my son earns money easily? Why did he marry a wastrel like you? You couldn’t even give him a son, and now you can’t manage a home!” My MIL saw me and her hand lashed out, delivering a stinging slap across my face. “You bitch! You almost hurt my grandson!” “You gave us a useless girl and now you think you can put on airs in front of Chloe? You know what? Be smart, divorce my son, and get out of the Sterling family.” The SIL started emptying the kitchen cabinets, filling designer bags with things like expensive supplements and imported vitamins. “These good things are wasted on her, Mom. Let’s take them to our new daughter-in-law. She needs to recover.” The MIL rushed to the kitchen, joining the grab-and-stuff operation. “Yes, Chloe is the great hero of our family. She needs to be well nourished.” My MIL didn’t even look at Lily the day she was born, furious that I hadn’t given her a boy. But I wasn’t focused on her attitude. I was focused on the revelation: Chloe had given birth? “Where is Dean?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. My MIL spat. “He’s with my grandson, of course! I’m warning you, if anything happens to that boy, I’ll hold you responsible!” 3 Chloe had given birth to a boy. My entire extended family had known about the affair for months, conspiring to keep it from me. Dean finally came home that afternoon, his eyes bloodshot with fatigue, his expression a mask of impatience. “My mother took a few things from the house, and you called the police? It’s my money that bought those things. What’s the big deal if my mother takes them?!” “Clean yourself up and come with me to the police station to clear this up.” I had waited until the MIL and SIL left, then called the police, reporting the theft. The security camera footage clearly showed them stealing items worth well over the felony threshold. The police had found them at the hospital. Dean was there alone, juggling the baby and Chloe’s post-delivery needs. He was overwhelmed. He had finally managed to hire a postpartum nurse, which was the only reason he had time to come home and settle the score with me. I looked at him and let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Your money?” He seemed genuinely amused, his tone mocking. “Whose else would it be? If I hadn’t held the company together all these years, it would have collapsed. I’ve been supporting you. You’ve had over a decade of luxury.” “I need an heir for a company this size. You couldn’t have another child. Just stick to being Mrs. Sterling, and no one can threaten your position.” I pointed to our framed family photo on the mantelpiece. “Isn’t Lily your child?” “What use is a girl? She’ll just belong to someone else eventually.” A fresh, horrifying wave of dread washed over me. Belong to someone else? “Dean,” I whispered, my heart racing, “Did you only approach me in college because of my family’s company?” Dean stepped closer, grabbing my hands, his voice dropping to a fake, soft tone. “Brooke, I do love you.” I pulled my hands away and slapped the printed divorce agreement onto his chest. “Sign it.” He glanced at the document, then tossed it onto the floor, sneering. “Brooke, look around. How many men out there don’t have mistresses, or even multiple small families? I made one little mistake, and you want to throw away our marriage?” “Stop being dramatic. My mother wanted a grandson, and you can’t have another child. I had no choice. What’s the big deal? We can even bring him back when he’s a bit older and raise him here.” He spoke as if he were commenting on the weather. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. I reacted instinctively, slapping him hard across the face, then again. “You Asshole.” He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Wife, I know you’re angry. But how will you survive without me? You’ll really go back to delivering flowers?” “Don’t forget, this company is my family’s now.” Dean snorted, a sharp, dismissive sound. “Don’t be naive. After a decade, the people at the company won’t listen to you. They are loyal to me.” “We can fix this. I promise, no one will ever threaten your position as my wife. I won’t short-change Lily, either.” “But if I don’t agree, you won’t get custody of Lily. Can you really let her grow up in a broken home, all because of your pride?” The irony was sickening. He hadn’t thought about Lily when he cheated, but he was willing to use her as a moral hostage now. My father had given Dean a 10% share when we married, hoping he would protect me. Now that stake was Dean’s weapon against me. Before marrying Dean, I had hidden my family’s wealth. After graduation, we both started working at the company. I found out I was pregnant right as we were both competing for executive roles. My father, overjoyed, quickly arranged a wedding and ordered me to focus on my health. He passed away suddenly soon after. The stress led to a miscarriage, and I spiraled into severe depression. Dean cared for me, all while stepping in to manage the company. He promised to protect my father’s legacy. I believed him. I worked with the other shareholders to elect him as CEO and Chairman. At the time, I truly wasn’t capable of running things. I became the envied Mrs. Sterling, and eventually, I gave birth to a beautiful daughter. Because of the child I lost, I was fiercely protective of Lily. Dean knew all this. That’s why he thought he could use her to control me. “Dean, you’re the naive one,” I said, turning my back on him. “Not me.” 4 A few days later, I exercised my rights as the majority shareholder, issuing a comprehensive notice of Dean’s immediate dismissal from all executive roles, and announcing that I would be taking over all company affairs. The email landed in every employee’s inbox. I put on a professional suit that hadn’t seen the light of day in years and walked into the lobby of Sterling & Co. The receptionist, a young woman who had been hired recently, stopped me. “Ma’am, who are you here to see?” I hadn’t been in the office in at least five years. Most employees wouldn’t recognize me. “I am Brooke Sterling. I’m here to work.” “Brooke Sterling?” The receptionist mumbled my name, then her eyes widened as she recalled the morning’s explosive email. “You’re the new Chairman!” She respectfully scrambled to open the main security doors for me. The elevator climbed to the 26th floor. The doors slid open, and Dean, flanked by a group of key shareholders, was waiting for me. He wore a patronizing, confident smile, clearly ready to dismiss me as an amateur. The first to speak was an older man, Mr. Wallace, who had worked alongside my father for years and had watched me grow up. He adopted a stern, paternal tone. “Brooke, Dean has told us everything. You’re being utterly ridiculous! You can’t let a small marital spat spill over into the company like this. The Chairman position is too important to be used as a political statement!” The surrounding employees, drawn by the commotion, laughed quietly. “The CEO’s wife probably can’t even read a balance sheet.” “Why can’t she just stay home with the kid? What’s the point of this scene?” “I know her type. She’s just worried her husband will leave her. This is just a performance.” The other shareholders chimed in with friendly-sounding advice. “Mrs. Sterling, the Chairman’s seat is not a joke. You should go home to your daughter.” “Brooke, Sterling & Co. has grown so much under Dean’s leadership. Why rock the boat?” “The company doesn’t belong just to you. What right do you have to make this kind of decision?” Dean smiled confidently and stepped forward to play the benevolent victim. “It’s my fault. I upset Brooke, and she’s reacted to it. I apologize to everyone for this disruption.” “Nonsense, Dean. This is between you two, we won’t get involved.” “Brooke, don’t make these jokes again!” The group chuckled, preparing to disperse. Dean leaned in close to my ear. “See that, Brooke? No one is on your side.” Many of the people gathered had been my father’s loyalists, yet they were now fully aligned with Dean. I scanned the room, the internal chill growing until it was absolute zero. I spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “A joke? I am the largest shareholder in this company. I am demanding the immediate dismissal of Dean Sterling from all his roles.” The shareholders froze, turning en masse to look at Dean. Dean, however, remained unfazed. “Since everyone is here, why don’t we just hold an impromptu shareholder meeting? We can elect a new Chairman right now.” “Assistant Stone, take everyone to the conference room. And notify Mr. Robert, we need him here for a vote.” We filed into the room. Dean naturally took the head seat, then dramatically produced his ownership agreement. He now held a staggering 20% stake. “I’ve acquired all the scattered stock over the years. I hold 20%, and Brooke holds 35%. Who do you all support?” Mr. Wallace, Mr. Mac, and others quickly voiced their full support for Dean. Dean leaned back, crossing his legs, looking down at me with an air of superiority. “Forty percent of the shares are already on my side. You only have thirty-five. Time to concede, Brooke.” I ignored him, looking toward the door, waiting for the final shareholder to arrive. Dean followed my gaze, a mocking smirk playing on his lips. Half an hour later, my Uncle Robert finally arrived, giving me a weary look. “Brooke, you shouldn’t be doing this.” My eyes immediately welled up. “Uncle Robert, Dean betrayed me.” My uncle pulled me aside, starting his lecture. “Even if Dean is at fault, you can’t air this in public! Men need face. Now, you two go home and settle this privately.” Then he turned to the room. “I support Dean.” I could stomach the others, but the betrayal from my own flesh and blood, my mother’s brother, cut me deep. Dean stood up and thanked everyone. “Brooke, the tally is 46% for me. Do you have anything more to say?” “Mr. Sterling, you seem to be forgetting the 19% shareholder who hasn’t cast a vote yet.”