The Heiress He Took for Granted

Ethan called ten minutes after my resignation was approved.

For one second, I thought he had finally noticed I was leaving Hale Creative.

Then his cold voice came through.

“I sent you the East Harbor revision file. Fix it within an hour and send it back.”

So he still had no idea.

He had approved my resignation without reading it, just like he had signed our divorce agreement without reading it.

As I packed my personal belongings into a cardboard box, several coworkers leaned against the printer and watched the show.

"She actually resigned? I thought she would cling to this company forever."

"Why wouldn't she? She's the boss's wife. Hale Creative may be small, but it's still Ethan's company. Where else is she supposed to go?"

"Don't be cruel. Even if she never works another day, she can always go home and swipe Mr. Hale's card."

They didn't bother lowering their voices.

At Hale Creative, everyone knew Grace and I didn't get along. They also knew Ethan always took Grace's side.

When Grace was late, she was a creative talent who needed space.

When Grace botched a client deck, she was inexperienced and deserved patience.

When I pointed out the risks, I was jealous of her youth, jealous of the fact that she and Ethan had grown up together, jealous of their history.

Soon, everyone learned that stepping on me could earn Grace's smile or Ethan's casual praise.

In the past, I would have explained myself and tried to prove I wasn't a useless wife living off her husband.

Not anymore.

I closed the box and turned to them.

"You're worrying about the wrong thing. I'm not going home to wait for Ethan to support me. I'm leaving to take over a company."

"As for Hale Creative, I sincerely hope Grace can actually finish a project without me."

Then I picked up the box and walked out.

Outside, Chicago's October wind cut through my coat. My old Audi waited by the curb. I had driven it for five years, chasing clients, suppliers, and midnight proposals without complaint.

Back then, he had held me in his arms and said that once the company grew, he would give me the best life.

When the company finally got a little better, he bought Grace a Maserati first.

I had just placed the box in the trunk when I finally opened the email Ethan had sent.

Sure enough, it was the same East Harbor file I had handed to Grace.

The credit went to her. The dirty work came back to me. If anything went wrong, I would take the blame.

I typed back, [I’m no longer at the company.]

Ethan called again almost immediately.

The moment I answered, his voice sharpened. “What do you mean you’re no longer at the company? It’s working hours, Sofia. Did you leave your post again?”

“I already resigned.”

There was a brief silence on the other end.

Then Grace’s soft voice floated through the phone.

“Ethan, don’t force Sofia. If she doesn’t want to help, I’ll do it myself.”

“You stayed up too late last night. You need to rest today.” Ethan’s tone changed instantly, turning gentle in a way it never did for me anymore.

“But it’s my project. I don’t want to keep troubling her.”

“She’s my wife. Helping the company is part of sharing my burden. Stop putting everything on yourself. You’ve already worked hard enough.”

I held the phone and felt nothing.

Before, that sentence would have hurt. It would have felt like he had erased five years of my work with one careless breath.

Now it was almost funny.

Grace’s so-called late night was a three-in-the-morning post from a seaside bar in Sicily, with Ethan beside her shielding her from the wind.

“Sofia.” Ethan mistook my silence for surrender. “Stop competing with Grace. I’m helping you improve. You’re my wife. You should have more responsibility than an ordinary employee.”

Grace added sweetly, “Actually, Sofia is really capable too.”

Ethan gave a short laugh. “If she were half as easy to deal with as you, I’d thank God every day.”

“Grace and I have a client dinner later,” Ethan said. “Get it done and send it over as soon as possible.”

After he hung up, I moved the email straight to trash.