The Code That Ruined My Ex

Sign it. You walk away with nothing.

Jocelyn Pierce slid the divorce settlement across the conference table, her tone as detached as if she were discussing quarterly earnings.

Next to her sat her attorney, Mr. Stone. Next to him sat her new partnerher young, handsome former executive assistant, Andre Blake.

Andre looked at me with a faint air of pity. Nolan, Jos been more than fair. You get to keep the condo and the car. Just sign the papers.

I picked up the pen.

Jocelyn frowned. Arent you going to look at the terms?

No need.

I signed my name: Nolan George.

Then I smiled.

Jocelyns composure faltered.

1.

Jocelyn said that line at exactly three in the afternoon.

The conference room was quiet, the late-day sun slanting through the floor-to-ceiling windows and illuminating the cold, white paper of the divorce agreement.

I stared at my name on the page, feeling a complete stranger to it.

Nolan George. Thirty-two years of my life condensed into two words. Five of those years belonged to Jocelyn.

When we married five years ago, she wasn't "Jo, the CEO."

She was just a market director whod just been fired by her company, with nothing but three months of severance pay in her bank account.

I remember her telling me she wanted to start a business.

I asked what she wanted to build.

She said an enterprise SaaS platform.

I told her the market was already saturated.

She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. She had the network, she had the vision, she just needed a technical co-founder who could write the code.

At the time, I was a Lead Engineer at a major tech player, pulling down a solid six-figure salary.

I said, "Ill do it."

She froze for a second, then broke into a smile.

It was the most honest, unfiltered happiness Id ever seen from her.

Seriously? Youd actually quit your job for this?

I told her I would.

Thats how it started. I resigned. She cashed out her severance. We wrote the first line of code in our tiny, rented apartment.

There were only two people in the company: her and me.

Jocelyn handled the sales, the partnerships, and the investor pitches.

I handled all the technology.

All of it.

I built the server architecture. I designed the database. I wrote the front-end and the back-end. I optimized the core algorithms.

The day the first version of the product went live, Jocelyn posted an update on her feed.

Day 127 of the startup journey. Product launch is a go! Grateful for everyone who supported me.

The photo was her, shot from the back, sitting at her laptopresilient, focused, and utterly beautiful. It was the perfect CEO origin story.

I saw the post at two in the morning, right after Id finally deployed a fix for a critical live bug. Id had three cups of coffee, and my eyes felt like they were packed with sand.

I just smiled to myself. I didn't say anything.

That post was just the beginning.

The day we signed our first client, Jocelyn took them out to dinner. She didnt invite me.

The day the first round of seed money hit the bank, Jocelyn posted, Thank you to our investors for believing in us, and thank you to my incredible team. The photo was her and the lead investor.

Team? The entire tech department was one guy: me.

I brought it up once.

When you post things, could you maybe just mention me?

Jocelyn was on a call, but she looked up at me.

Youre my husband, Nolan. Why would I tag you? People would think I lack professional boundaries.

Im the companys Head of Technology.

Youre my husband, she insisted. What you build is what we build. Whats the difference?

I told her there wasn't one.

I thought she meant it.

The company grew from two people to twenty, and then from twenty to eighty.

Jocelyn hired sales reps, operations managers, finance directors, and administrative staff.

The one thing she avoided hiring was more senior tech staff.

It wasn't that she didn't try. She hired three people over the years. They all quit.

Because she couldn't keep them.

Only I truly understood the core code. Only I could maintain the central system. The new hires couldnt take over, or theyd inevitably screw it up.

Jocelyn told me to just keep doing it. Youre used to it, anyway.

I said fine.

I did it alone for five years.

Five years.

Over eighteen hundred days.

More than fifty thousand hours.

The logged overtime alone exceeded eight thousand hours. Thats four and a half extra hours of work every single day, practically zero weekends off.

The only time I ever took off was when I landed in the emergency room with acute gastroenteritis.

She visited me on the first day.

She came in with a bouquet, stayed for three minutes of small talk. Then she asked: Whats the root password for the main server?

I was lying in the hospital bed, IV drip running.

I gave her the password.

She said thank you and left.

She didn't come back on the second day. Or the third.

On the fourth day, she sent a driver to pick me up. In the car, I asked her what the server problem was.

She said it was nothing major, just a small bug. Fixed now.

I told her to let me look at it.

Dont worry about it, Nolan, its been handled.

I asked her who fixed it.

An external contractor.

A faint flicker of alarm went off in my mind right then, but I couldn't quite catch it.

I should have.

In the companys third year, we closed our Series A, valuing the company at thirty million.

Jocelyn posted again.

Grateful for the team, the investors, and everyone who believed in me. Three years. We finally made it to this stage.

The photo was her and the investors, with the sales team standing dutifully behind them.

The comments section was full of congratulations.

I typed three words: Congrats.

Jocelyn replied with a hugging emoji.

That evening, I asked her about the equity split.

She said it was finalized.

I asked how much I received.

Five percent, she said.

I stopped typing.

Five percent?

I wrote the entire system. Front-end, back-end, architecture, algorithms, and maintenance.

I did the work of three people for three years.

Five percent?

Jocelyn saw the displeasure on my face and sighed.

I know you worked hard, but equity isnt about hours clocked, Nolan. The Head of Sales got five percent, the CFO got five percent. You cant think youre special.

I was the only person with you from Day One.

And youre my husband, she emphasized. Whats mine is yours, and whats yours is mine. Why worry about splitting hairs?

She used that line again. She always used that line.

I said fine.

Five percent it was.

At a thirty-million valuation, five percent was one and a half million dollars.

One and a half million for three years of my life. Thats five hundred thousand a year.

Id been making a million dollars a year at my old Big Tech job.

I was operating at a loss.

But I didn't say it.

She was my wife.

We were family.

And family doesnt count the cost.

Series A led to Series B. Series B led to Series C.

The companys valuation climbed from thirty million to a hundred million, and then to three hundred million.

My equity remained five percent.

Jocelyn's equity was forty-two percent.

I didnt ask her why mine hadn't increased.

I was afraid of hearing, Youre my husband, again.

In the companys fourth year, we held the annual gala.

Jocelyn stood on stage in a custom-tailored suitsharp, elegant, and radiating success. More than a hundred employees sat below, illuminated by the spotlights.

This year, our revenue surpassed twenty million dollars, and we are finally profitable. This is all thanks to your dedication.

Applause.

Thank you to the Sales Teamyou are the companys vanguard!

Applause.

Thank you to the Operations Teamyou are the companys foundation!

Applause.

Thank you to the Finance Teamyou are the companys guardians!

Applause.

I sat there, waiting for her to mention the Technology Team.

She never did.

After the gala, a new sales rep came over. Nolan, what exactly is your role here? Are you the CEOs partner?

I told him I was the Head of Technology.

He looked surprised. Oh. I thought you were Jocelyns driver.

When we got home that night, I asked her why she hadn't mentioned me.

She was taking off her makeup and paused.

Why would I mention you? Everyone knows youre my husband. If I mention you, theyll say I lack professional boundaries.

You could have just said, the Technology Team.

The Technology Team is just you. Mentioning them is mentioning you. Its the same thing.

I didn't argue.

Jocelyn came over and patted my shoulder.

Dont overthink it, honey. I keep track of everything you do. Once the company grows bigger, Ill increase your equity. I promise.

I said fine.

I waited.

The fifth year came and went. The equity never increased.

But Andre Blake arrived.

2.

Andre was hired as Jocelyns executive assistant.

I met him when he started. Top-tier university, young, good-looking, and very composed.

I didnt think much of it. The company had over a hundred employees, half of them male. He wasn't the only sharp, attractive person in the office.

But I should have thought more of it.

After Andre arrived, Jocelyn got busier.

She used to be home before ten. Then it was eleven. Then midnight.

I asked her why she was so busy.

She said we were pushing for Series D, and the workload was intense.

I asked if I could help.

She said no, just focus on the technical side of things.

I believed her.

Three months after Andre started, the executive office held a team event. Jocelyn attended.

I asked her, Since when do you join your assistants team happy hours?

She said it wasn't a party, it was employee retention. As the boss, she should make an appearance.

I said fine.

Six months after Andre started, it was the annual gala. Jocelyn personally managed the planning. I had no part in it.

During the raffle, Andre won the grand prizea ridiculously expensive Swiss chronograph. Jocelyn personally clasped it onto his wrist, and they posed for a picture.

She posted the photo of them together, Andres smile dazzling under the spotlight. The caption: Our annual grand prize winner! Some people have all the luck!

I sat in the audience, looking at the screen, a small, cold knot tightening in my stomach.

But I didn't say anything. I had too much I wanted to say, and I was afraid she would accuse me of being paranoid.

Eight months after Andre started, I found the evidence.

Jocelyn came home late that night and went straight into the shower. She left her phone on the coffee table.

I didn't mean to look. I really didn't.

One unread text. From Andre.

Miss you.

I stared at the screen for three seconds.

Then I put the phone back exactly where it was.

Jocelyn came out of the bathroom, picked up the phone, and glanced at it.

I asked her, Who was that?

Work stuff, she said.

Oh.

I didn't sleep that night.

The next morning, after Jocelyn left for the office, I opened the companys login system.

As the Head of Technology, I had administrator access.

I pulled up Jocelyns and Andres access logs for the last three months.

Their attendance was perfectly synchronized. Jocelyn worked until midnight; Andre worked until midnight. Jocelyn worked on Saturday; Andre worked on Saturday.

Then I pulled the buildings key card entry system logs.

They often entered and left the building at the same time.

On multiple occasions, the logs showed Andre swiping his card to enter her private office.

At eleven p.m.

I put the phone down and took a deep breath.

I told myself it was for work.

I told myself not to be paranoid.

I told myself Jocelyn wasn't that person.

I told myself she was my wife.

We were family.

And family doesn't count the cost.

I kept silent.

One year after Andre started, I knew the truth.

That night, Jocelyn didn't come home, claiming she had a client dinner.

I opened the in-car GPS app.

Her car was parked outside a luxury high-rise on the West Side.

Id been to that building once. Last year, Andre had invited some of the exec team to his place for a housewarming.

I didn't go inside.

I drove to the entrance and sat there for an hour. Just sat.

At one a.m., Jocelyns car pulled out. Andre was driving.

They were talking, and Jocelyn was laughing.

I watched from a distance, never getting out of my car.

The next morning, Jocelyn came home.

She said shed had too much to drink at the client dinner and slept at the office to avoid a DUI.

I said, Oh.

She asked why I looked so tired.

I said I hadn't slept well.

She said, Well go on a trip once the Series D is done. You need a break.

I said fine.

After she left, I didn't cry.

I sat on the sofa for a long time.

Then I opened my laptop and started working.

Code doesn't betray you.

Code doesn't lie.

The code was written by me. It was mine.

For the next two months, I didn't mention the text or the apartment.

Jocelyn went on with her lifegoing to work, attending dinners, and not coming home.

I went on with minewriting code, patching bugs, and optimizing the system.

We were pushing hard for Series D, and the workload was genuinely overwhelming. I worked thirty days straight on the system overhaul, sleeping four or five hours a night.

Jocelyn never once asked me if I was tired.

One night, at two a.m., a server failure threatened data loss. I spent three hours scrambling alone until five a.m., when I finally fixed it.

Jocelyn saw me asleep at my desk when she arrived that morning.

She nudged my shoulder. Server fixed?

I said yes.

Good. I have an investor meeting soon. Can you pull together the updated technical performance metrics for me?

I said fine.

She walked away.

She didn't ask if Id eaten breakfast. She didn't ask if I was okay.

I was just a machine. Use me, then keep using me.

The Series D funding round closed after three months. A three-hundred-million-dollar valuation, with eighty million raised.

Jocelyn was ecstatic, doing three full turns in her office.

That evening, she surprisingly came home early and brought a bottle of expensive red wine.

I thought she had come to thank me.

She sat down, her expression serious.

Nolan, I have something I need to tell you.

I braced myself. Was she finally going to talk about the equity?

She said, Im pregnant.

I paused for three seconds.

Then I laughed.

Congratulations.

Jocelyn looked surprised by my reaction. Youre not angry?

Should I be?

I thought you would.

Cry? Cause a scene? I stood up. Jocelyn, you give yourself too much credit.

She just stared at me.

I walked into the home office and locked the door.

I slept very well that night.

The next morning, I went to the office as usual.

Jocelyn didn't come in; Andre reportedly took her to her first OB-GYN appointment.

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and started compiling files.

Every line of code Id written over the past five years.

Every technical document.

Every system architecture diagram.

Every algorithm model.

I reviewed them one by one.

Then I navigated to the U.S. Copyright Office website.

Software copyright registration.

The applicant can be an individual or a company.

I had never paid attention to this before.

But I was paying attention now.

I found the date I wrote the very first line of code: March 12, 2018.

The company was incorporated on April 5, 2018.

The core architecture, the core algorithms, and the core modules were all finished before the company was legally created.

Whose copyright did that code belong to?

Mine.

Because I had developed it as an individual, before I was an employee.

Jocelyn had only made a verbal request: Help me write this. She hadn't presented any contract.

I was her husband, not her employee. I wrote the code as a favor, not as a job.

The copyright for that code was legally mine.

I stayed in the office all day.

Jocelyn returned in the early evening. She looked surprised to see me at my desk.

Youre still here?

Yeah, organizing some files.

What files?

Five years of my work product.

She didn't press. She walked into her private office and shut the door.

An hour later, she summoned me.

Inside, along with Jocelyn, were the companys lawyer and Andre.

Jocelyn pushed a document toward me.

Nolan George, were getting a divorce. Heres the settlement agreement.

I picked it up. It was thick, seven or eight pages long.

I flipped through it.

The gist was: Irreconcilable differences, voluntary divorce. All company equity goes to the wife. All bank accounts go to the wife. Debts are assumed separately. The husband voluntarily waives all claims to marital property.

I was walking away with nothing.

It was written in black and white.

Andre looked on, his eyes holding pity mixed with a hint of undeniable smugness.

Nolan, Jos been more than fair. You get to keep the condo and the car. Just sign the papers.

I looked at him, then at Jocelyn.

She was sitting in her CEO chair, her expression cool and distant.

Five years.

From nothing to a three-hundred-million-dollar valuation. I was the one who built the infrastructure.

And now she wanted me to walk away empty-handed.

I laughed.

Fine. Ill sign.

I picked up the pen and wrote my name.

Jocelyn looked surprised. Arent you going to look at the terms?

No need.

I pushed the agreement back to her.

When are we filing the paperwork?

Tomorrow.

Fine.

I stood up, picked up my bag, and walked out of the office.

Andre called out behind me, Nolan, you still have stuff on your desk!

I didnt turn back. Keep it.