Sold His Dreams, Then Walked Out on Him

I walked to the end of the hallway and threw the bottle of medication into the trash.

Ryan didn't come home for the rest of the night.

I tried calling him three times, but nobody picked up, and I was terrified he might have had an accident while drunk.

We had been together for six years, and despite the resentment, some part of me still cared.

I grabbed my car keys and drove back to the restaurant, only to find that the party had already split up.

I flagged down a server and asked her where the man in the black shirt from that private room had gone.

She thought about it for a second. "Oh, he was drunk. His girlfriend had to help him out of here."

"His girlfriend?"

"Yeah, the pretty one in the dress," the server said, wiping down a table. "She was supporting him, and he leaned down to kiss her before they headed to the underground parking lot. He couldn't even walk straight, so she was completely holding him up."

That couldn't have been anyone else but Lucinda.

"Thanks," I said, turning around and walking out of the restaurant.

The night air was freezing, cutting across my face like a knife.

I got into my car and sat there for a while, the stereo blasting all of his favorite songs.

It suddenly hit me that the last time he and I had actually shared a ride in this car was over two weeks ago.

Maybe he had stopped being my Ryan a long time ago.

…

The next morning, the office was a lot livelier than usual.

"Hey, did you see that? Lucinda rolled up in Mr. Whitaker's car. They came up from the parking lot together, and she was even carrying his coat!"

"Oh, my goodness. Is Lucinda sleeping her way to the top? No wonder she made manager in less than six months."

"He literally handed her Hannah's multi-million dollar deal yesterday after Hannah spent a month chasing it down. Could he be any more obvious?"

"Where does that leave Hannah then? Has she fallen out of favor?"

A female coworker dropped her voice to a whisper. "But honestly, even if Hannah doesn't have a fancy degree, she has way more of a presence than Lucinda."

"Right? Hannah is a top performer. Is Mr. Whitaker blind?"

I heard every word.

To my coworkers, Ryan and I were nothing more than a boss and his subordinate.

Because the company's hiring policy required a bachelor's degree minimum, Ryan had forced me to keep our relationship secret from the start. It was to mask my high school education and to protect his image as a director.

Of course, people weren't completely blind, and the rumors flew anyway.

Everyone whispered behind my back, constantly questioning if I was sleeping with Ryan for promotions.

Some said I was gorgeous, some said I was highly capable, and some guessed we were messing around, but not a single soul ever guessed that I was actually his legal wife.

In the past, for the sake of Ryan and his reputation, I had walked on eggshells at the company, watching my boundaries when texting male clients and refusing to ever grab a solo lunch with male coworkers.

Looking back now, I reckon he never cared one bit.

Just then, Ryan's assistant, Robert Ashwick, walked over and tapped on my desk. "Hannah, Mr. Whitaker wants to see you in his office."

I hit enter to save my document, stood up, and walked over.

Pushing the office door open, I found Ryan lounging in his chair, sipping coffee and looking rather refreshed.

He set his mug down and cut straight to the chase. "I need you to hand over a few of your Tier A clients to Lucinda so she can get some practice. Make sure you show her the ropes."