So Done With Her

"If we unilaterally terminate, we might have to absorb some of the losses," my assistant said.

"All of it. I don't care about the losses," I insisted.

"Got it, Mr. Anders. I'll review the contract details right away. The whole process will take about a week."

A week.

That was fine. It would give me just enough time to make the divorce settlement as airtight as possible.

I had given her countless chances.

What Claire and I had started as a calculated business merger. A marriage of convenience between two wealthy families.

But three years together changes things. I'm not made of stone. I actually grew to love her.

So when Noah became a problem, I made my feelings very clear.

She promised me she would handle it. She swore it would never affect our marriage.

Those words were still ringing in my ears.

She was the one who threw this marriage away.

So don't blame me for playing dirty.

…

The lawyer hadn't even finished drafting the divorce agreement when my parents started blowing up my phone.

My mom didn't even say hello. Just launched right in.

"Ethan! Why didn't you tell us you had a medical problem? And why haven't you seen a doctor about it?"

I frowned, completely lost. "Mom, I'm fine. I work out all the time. You see my annual physical every year."

"That's not what I'm talking about!" Her voice was frantic. "I'm talking about the problem. The man problem.

"Are you misunderstanding something with Claire? She's a young woman who was humiliated on her wedding night. Instead of comforting her, you terminate all contracts with her company?"

Word after ridiculous word hit me like a truck. I couldn't even connect what she was saying to myself.

Then she sent a photo to my WhatsApp.

It was a medical report. Severe erectile dysfunction. And it had my name on it.

Claire had posted this in our extended family group chat first thing in the morning.

In the chat, she was crying, saying I wouldn't let her touch me, that I was constantly accusing her of cheating on me.

My parents were falling all over themselves apologizing to her. They sent her several large cash gifts to calm her down.

[Claire, don't be too hard on Ethan. He's just under a lot of pressure.]

[This is our fault. We didn't raise him right. You shouldn't have to deal with this.]

Then the aunts and uncles chimed in.

[Yeah, Claire, Ethan has always been stubborn. Just be patient with him.]

[Ethan, go see a doctor. Don't wait. These things are treatable if you catch them early.]

A few of my younger cousins jumped in with laughing emojis and jokes.

[So what's the deal, Ethan? How bad is it?]

[Don't worry, Claire. I know a great doctor. He specializes in this kind of thing.]

I was gripping my phone so hard my hands were shaking. Rage flooded my head. My vision went black at the edges.

Claire had the nerve to play the victim. To flip the whole story around.

I immediately opened our private chat.

[Claire. Is this really the game you want to play?]

A few seconds later—no private reply—she tagged me in the family group chat.

[I'm sorry, everyone. Please don't blame Ethan. He already yelled at me.]

[That report isn't real. I made it up. I lied.]

[Ethan doesn't have any problems. He's perfect. This is all my fault.]

And the more she "clarified," the more everyone believed her.

[Claire, you're too kind! You're still defending him after everything?]

[Ethan! Look at what you've done to her. Apologize. Now.]

Reading all those twisted versions of the truth, I felt sick to my stomach.

Then her private message popped up.

[Restore the funding and the business partnership. Immediately.]

[Otherwise, I don't mind sending that medical report to every media outlet in the city.]