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But I didn't resist. I simply signed the resignation agreement.

What he didn't know was that the project's submission deadline was only seven days away—and the client would recognize no one but me as the core person in charge.

"You can leave, but you must delete all your clients' and coworkers' contact information. Those are company resources. You're not qualified to take them with you!"

Just as I was about to walk out, my husband's young girlfriend, Lisa Marcell, blocked my path.

After managing the company for years, I knew perfectly well there had never been such a rule. She was deliberately targeting me.

I turned to my husband, Anthony Pickett. "Is this what you want too?"

Anthony stared at me in a daze for a moment, then nodded coldly.

If I really deleted those contacts, there would be no turning back.

He was certain I wouldn't bear to leave, which was why he dared to be so ruthless.

It wasn't strange for him to think that way. We had been married for seven years and never had children.

The company was like our child, and I loved it even more than he did. I woke before dawn and worked late into the night, chasing deals and handling business with meticulous care, afraid to waste even a minute.

Last week, at a meeting, he proposed promoting Lisa directly to head of the technical department.

The old-timers in the company did him a favor. Against their better judgment, they offered a few hollow compliments and approved it.

Only I, after reviewing Lisa's performance and finding her completely unqualified, vetoed his proposal outright—without giving Anthony any face.

He knew very well that I would never allow him to act recklessly in the company.

So this time, to grant Lisa her wish, he even staged a ridiculous amnesia act—just to force me to submit.

When our argument broke out, colleagues rushed over to mediate.

"Ms. Campbell, calm down. Mr. Pickett is sick. As his wife, when he's this fragile, you should be more understanding and tolerant."

Their words emboldened Anthony. He said solemnly, "My wife is everything. In this company, whoever goes against my wife goes against me!"

The coworkers laughed and teased me, tugging at my arm. "Ms. Campbell, see? Your husband still loves you. He's just ill and mistook someone else for you."

They looked at me with envy, but I couldn't smile at all.

The truth was the complete opposite of what they saw and said.

Anthony and I were husband and wife, polite and respectful on the surface. But whenever something happened, he always forced me to compromise and give in. Right or wrong, in any situation, he always stood on the opposite side of me.

We had argued over this more times than I could count.

Yet he always said, I was his family. No matter how badly things went outside, we could still make up at home.

Outsiders were different. Once they were truly offended, there was no room for reconciliation.

It made me uncomfortable, but after hearing it so often, I began to think he had a point.

But now, seeing with my own eyes that he could abandon his principles and bottom line for Lisa…

I finally understood something. When you truly love someone, your first instinct when they are wronged is to protect them—not to coldly calculate gains and losses.

I was lost in thought when the chair in front of me was suddenly kicked over by Lisa.

"Heather, you shameless old woman! Anthony's wife is obviously me! If you dare spout nonsense again, I'll rip your mouth apart!"

She pointed at me and screamed, as if I were the one destroying someone else's family.

Anthony watched the whole scene without saying a word. He simply stood behind Lisa, silently backing her up.

I smiled. "Fine. I'll delete them."

As soon as I spoke, I took out my phone and posted on my social feed that I had resigned. Then I raised my hand to log out of my work account.

Seeing that I was serious, Anthony suddenly panicked and rushed to stop me.

"Forget it. Seeing how you're an old employee, you don't need to delete anything. Just leave!"

All the coworkers let out a sigh of relief.

But Lisa stomped her foot in dissatisfaction. "Honey, am I not the vice president? Don't I even have this much authority?"

Anthony, who had always indulged her, shot her a warning look this time, signaling her not to make trouble.

Then he softened his expression and transferred five thousand dollars to me, promising, "Don't worry. The company won't let its contributors feel wronged. Even though you're leaving, what belongs to you will be returned eventually... with time.

"As for your severance compensation, I'll give you an answer in seven days. Go home and rest first."

He thought I still didn't know his amnesia was an act. He assumed that after seven days, he could use his 'illness' as an excuse, apologize to me, and everything would return to normal.

But this hands-off boss had no idea that the company's most critical project had only seven days left before its deadline.

The amount involved was enormous. If it wasn't delivered on time—or if something went wrong—he would have to pay a massive penalty.

In the past, for the sake of the company's stability and his future, I would have chosen to endure it all in silence. But I was already exhausted. I wanted neither the company nor him anymore.

Anthony subconsciously reached out to grab my hand, then remembered he was supposed to be "acting" and awkwardly withdrew it.

I glanced at my phone and returned the transfer.

Then I deleted the word "Husband" from his contact name.

After that, I looked at him calmly and said, "Anthony, let's get a divorce."