After gleefully accepting the role of CEO and returning home to spurn his country-bred wife, the husband was left dumbfounded upon receiving a termination notice from the billionaire shareholder herself: “Welcome back as a trainee!”
CHAPTER I: THE SCENT OF ADVANCEMENT AND TREADING ON HEADS
That poor city never ceased exhaling the heavy sighs of aging factory smokestacks and the creaking of wheels on asphalt roads stained with motor oil after every heavy rain. At that dreary street corner flickering with yellowish streetlights, life usually flowed by with the slow, weighty rhythms of people who bent their faces to the earth and their backs to the sky year-round.
But he never belonged there. In his ambitious mind, he always regarded that damp, mold-reeking rented room merely as a temporary waiting station on his journey toward lavish heights.
To climb to his current rung—the position of strategic deputy director of a multinational financial corporation headquartered grandly in the city center—he had to grind away the very last shreds of a human conscience. He chose not to sweat through genuine capability, but rather the shortest, slipperiest path: selling himself to lust and power.
The woman who lifted him up was none other than the corporation’s female chief executive officer—a sharp, cold woman known as the “ice queen” of the business world, holding the power of life and death over thousands of employees and a colossal fortune capable of buying both conscience and honor. Night after night burying themselves in a towering luxury office, beneath the dim glow of expensive red wine glasses, he and she intertwined in a clandestine affair, trading flesh and plans for subterranean power consolidation.
In his eyes at the time, that female CEO was the embodiment of glory, the passport leading him into the privileged, elite upper world. And his wife back in the impoverished rented room? She had become a rustic blot, a tattered obstacle that needed to be erased from his life as soon as possible.
He looked at his wife with a cold gaze, the look of a hunter surveying prey that had lost its usefulness. The modest meals of pickled vegetables and salted fish cooked by his wife’s calloused hands suddenly became an abhorrence in his throat. He was simply waiting for an opportunity, a milestone of sufficient magnitude to cast off all that wretched past.
And that milestone finally arrived, brilliant and full of pride.
CHAPTER II: THE BLOOD CONTRACT AND THE GENERAL DIRECTOR’S SEAT
That afternoon, the city sky was cloaked in the dreary gray of an impending storm, but inside the grand conference room of the financial corporation, the atmosphere was scorching and ablaze with radiance.
On the solid rosewood conference table, the appointment decision for the new Chief Executive Officer had been stamped in bright red by the supreme board of directors. The person signing that decree was none other than the female CEO—his secret lover, now officially placing supreme authority into his hands to govern this entire financial empire.
He stood tall, draped in a meticulously hand-tailored designer suit, chin raised, the corners of his lips curving into the arrogant smirk of a conqueror. The members of the board of directors stood up one by one to shake his hand, uttering lavish praises regarding a strategic vision and extraordinary capability he had never truly possessed.
Hovering in the corner of the room, the female CEO looked at him with a deep, complex gaze—half the satisfaction of the wielder of power, half harboring an indescribably cold aftertaste. She gently lifted her champagne glass, signaling her congratulations to him.
— “Starting today, you officially stand above myriads,” – she whispered into his ear as she passed by, intoxicating spirits mingling with expensive perfume. – “But remember, this chair is not for the faint-hearted. Are you ready to clear away the remnants of your personal life?”
He laughed out loud, a laughter full of self-satisfaction and cruelty. He fully understood the underlying implication of those words. She wanted him to completely, decisively, and mercilessly cut ties with his past, especially the loyal wife languishing away for him in that poor ghetto.
— “Rest assured,” – he answered softly, his eyes flashing with the fierce determination of someone ready to sell out even his ancestors for fame. – “Tonight, I will resolve everything conclusively. There won’t be any lingering entanglements blocking our steps anymore.”
Leaving the dazzling skyscraper with a bottle of bonus champagne clutched tightly in his hand, he stepped into the luxury car provided exclusively by the company for the new CEO. His heart soared as if riding on clouds. He gave not a single thought to the sweat and the exhaustion-filled sleepless nights of the wife who had carried him through his most destitute days. Inside his head right now echoed only the cheers of wealth, power, and utter contempt for the rustic woman waiting for him at home.
CHAPTER III: THE ROOM OF SILENCE AND THE DIVORCE PAPERS
The car stopped at the mouth of the dark, narrow alley, where flickering streetlights cast reflections across puddles of stagnant water. He stepped out of the vehicle, carefully dusting off an imaginary speck on his impeccably pressed dress trousers, then walked with proud strides into the familiar rented room.
The cramped room remained just as it was, the odor of mold and grease blending within the confined space. But what was strange was the absence of the familiar sigh, nor was there a steaming tray of food waiting as usual.
His wife was sitting quietly beside the rustic wooden table placed in the middle of the room. Beneath the yellowish light, she wore simple clothes, her expression uncomprehendingly calm. Before her sat a small teapot steaming with fragrant vapor.
He shoved open the rotting wooden door, stepping in with a triumphant expression, making no effort to conceal the contempt surging in his eyes. He pulled a dossier pre-drafted by company lawyers from his jacket pocket and slammed it heavily onto the table with a loud thud.
— “Read it and sign,” – his voice was cold, sharp as a betel knife. – “Let’s end it here. Look at yourself, do we still belong to the same world now? Don’t bother clinging to me and humiliating yourself further.”
He crossed his arms across his chest, holding his head high, waiting for the aggrieved tears, the heart-wrenching sobs, or the bitter curses commonly found in abandoned women. He had prepared himself to trample down any such pleas with the most venomous words.
Yet his world seemed to veer completely off its orbit the very next moment.
The wife did not tremble at all. She did not cry, nor did she bother glancing at the divorce papers he had just thrown down. She slowly picked up the teapot, pouring a small cup of tea with an unhurried, strangely elegant demeanor—a composure entirely alien to the woman who had spent year-round toiling in this poor street corner.
— “You are five minutes late compared to my calculation,” – her voice rang out, soft yet ice-cold like a midwinter glacier. – “And it seems you are immensely euphoric over that General Director seat that other woman bestowed upon you, aren’t you?”
He froze, his eyes narrowing in surprise. A flash of guilt flickered across his chest, quickly overridden by arrogance. He barked:
— “What the hell are you babbling about?! Sign quickly! I don’t have time to bicker with a country bumpkin like you. Don’t force me to use harsh measures!”
The wife gently raised the tea cup, taking a small sip, then raised her bright eyes, deep as an abyss, to stare straight into his face. That look was so sharply cold that a shiver instantly raced up his spine.
CHAPTER IV: THE TABLE-FLIP AT THE PEAK OF POWER
— “Harsh measures, you say?” – she smiled, a faint smile carrying a thousand-pound weight that forced him to pause. – “Do you truly believe that General Director seat belongs to your extraordinary competence? You are so naive, or has ambition completely blinded your already limited mind?”
He stepped back, stuttering in panic: “You… what nonsense are you spewing? The chairman of the board… she is the one who signed my appointment decision…”
— “Indeed, that arrogant and scheming female CEO you are sharing a pillow with signed that decree,” – the wife leisurely stood up, walked over to his luxury leather briefcase, and pulled out a carefully encased dark red dossier. – “But have you ever wondered why such a massive financial corporation would suddenly hand power over to someone of humble origin, lacking any solid financial background like you?”
He widened his eyes, his ears ringing. A horrific premonition began clawing at his core.
— “Because of me,” – she uttered every word clearly and distinctly, steady and resolute. – “That corporation, starting six months ago, fell entirely into the shadow investment fund where I hold absolute controlling shares. That female CEO you are infatuated with? She is in reality merely a pawn hired by me to manage the surface facade, and she is also the one who obediently surrendered all executive power into my hands in exchange for condoning her massive embezzlement schemes.”
He stood petrified on the spot, cold sweat pouring down his spine, breath choked in his chest. He stuttered soundlessly: “No… No way… You are just a woman…”
— “A wretched woman in this poor ghetto, you mean?” – she interrupted him, slamming the red dossier down onto the table right in front of him. – “You spent your entire youth sleepwalking in contempt, failing to realize that the very wife you despised was the one holding the life-or-death switch to your existence.”
He tremblingly reached out to flip open the dossier. Striking his eyes was not the divorce papers, but a document bearing the bright red seal of the supreme board of directors, legally executed just ten minutes before he set foot back home.
It was a special termination order targeting the position of Chief Executive Officer who had assumed office less than three hours prior.
At the bottom right corner of the termination order, the final authorizing signature was none other than that of the largest shareholder—the holder of 75% of the entire corporation’s shares. And the name on that legal seal was precisely the name of the wife standing before him at this very moment.
CHAPTER V: NIGHTFALL OVER THE ASHES
He collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching his head, his eyes bulging as he stared fixedly at the termination order as if gazing upon the ultimate phantom of sheer terror. The illusion of power, of the billion-dollar throne, of the haughty mistress… everything had shattered into meaningless pieces in the blink of an eye. He turned out to be nothing more than a puppet dancing in the palm of the very wife he had always despised.
The wife calmly walked closer to him, bending down to look at the trembling figure shivering at her feet. She picked up the still-warm teacup, took a small sip, and leisurely spoke, every single word piercing straight into his heart like a thousand sharp blades:
— “Welcome back to being an apprentice. Your divorce papers, I have already signed. Now, please clear out your garbage and get out of my room. The game is over.”
Outside the rented room, the storm finally poured heavy raindrops down onto that poor street corner, washing away all illusions of a lavish upper-class dream that had withered and died within the heart of the traitor.
