The Day I Fired My Husband

My father sent me to my husband's company to test him. A surprise inspection, he’d called it.

I thought it would be a formality.

I wasn’t even five steps inside the office when I saw her: a woman dressed in a look of curated innocence, staring at an industrial shredder as if it were magic.

“Wow, this thing is so cool,” she breathed, and then, without a second thought, she picked up a contract from a nearby desk and started to feed it in.

A colleague next to her went pale. “Lexi, for God’s sake, stop!” he yelped, diving to snatch it back. “Weren’t you in Carter’s office playing video games? Why are you out here?”

She just giggled. “Hehe, I got thirsty.”

As if on cue, her hand, holding a full cup of water, jerked. The entire contents splashed directly onto the main power switch on the wall. The office went dark, followed by a collective cry of despair from every cubicle.

I grabbed the arm of a young intern. “Who in the hell hired that woman?”

He immediately put a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down,” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “That’s our boss’s wife. Mr. Hayes’s wife. I heard this whole division is technically hers.” He gave me a weary look. “Are you new? You get used to it. She usually just stays in his office and doesn’t bother anyone.”

A sharp, pulsing pain started in my temples.

If she was Carter’s wife… then what was I?

I pulled out my phone and dialed my father.

“Dad,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Cancel the evaluation.

Just tell Carter to bring the divorce papers to the office.”

1

The official story was a routine divisional review. A surprise audit, my father had called it, telling me not to feel any pressure, to just consider it a chance to get familiar with the assets.

The real story? He was sending me to test my husband.

I figured it would be a simple in-and-out. A formality.

I badged in with the credentials the front desk provided, the frosted glass doors to the main office floor hissing open before me. The first thing I saw was a woman.

She was dressed in a white sundress that screamed calculated innocence, crouched in front of a heavy-duty office shredder, her expression one of childlike wonder.

“Wow, this machine is so cool,” she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper. “Does it just… eat anything?”

Before anyone could answer, she reached over to a nearby desk and picked up a thick, bound document. From my angle, I could clearly see the cover sheet, stamped in bold red letters: ACQUISITION AGREEMENT. Without a moment’s hesitation, she started feeding it into the machine’s hungry maw.

A man in glasses nearby went white as a sheet. “Lexi, no!”

He launched himself across the short distance between them, a desperate dive that was more of a controlled fall, snatching the contract from the shredder’s teeth just in time. He collided with her, but she barely seemed to notice.

“My God, Lexi, what are you doing?” he gasped, his voice thin with terror. “I thought you were in Carter’s office playing on your Switch. This contract has to be signed this afternoon!”

The woman—Lexi—didn’t seem the least bit offended by the collision. She just giggled, a light, airy sound, and held up an empty tumbler. “Got bored. And thirsty.”

The man with the glasses clutched the rescued document to his chest like it was a newborn baby. He let out a shaky breath, forcing a pained smile onto his face. “Right. Thirsty,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-beg. “Please, can you just… go back to his office to get a drink? He has that filtered water cooler in there, remember?”

She pouted. “The water in there tastes weird. I like the water out here better.”

Ignoring the man’s look of pure, unadulterated despair, she skipped off toward the break room.

I watched the whole insane spectacle, a sharp, pulsing pain starting in my right temple. I caught the sleeve of a young guy who looked like an intern, his ID badge still shiny and new.

“Who is she?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

The intern’s eyes flickered from me to the woman’s retreating back, a flicker of raw fear in them. He brought a finger to his lips in a universal sign to be quiet. “Keep it down, ma’am.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s Lexi. She’s… she’s Mr. Hayes’s wife. Carter’s wife.”

The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. In that single moment, all of Carter’s recent strangeness—the late nights he claimed were spent at the office, the way his phone was always face down on the nightstand, the vague, distant look in his eyes—it all clicked into place with a sickening finality.

The intern, oblivious, kept whispering. “The rumor is, this whole division is technically hers, so she’s the real boss, you know? You must be new. You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, a sound of weary resignation that didn’t belong on someone so young. “She usually just stays in his office, watches Netflix or whatever. Doesn’t bother us. Carter must be out for that summit today, so there’s no one to babysit her. That’s when she… explores.”

His words faded into a dull roar in my ears.

She’s Carter’s wife.

Then what in God’s name was I?

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” the intern asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look really pale.”

I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Fine. Just… surprised.” I looked out at the open-plan office. “I’m just surprised a place like this would have someone like that on staff. It’s… an eye-opener.”

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