The Queen He Scorned
I’d heard the name, of course. Isabel Shaw. The scholarship kid my husband, Marcus, had sponsored. Six months ago, upon her graduation, he’d hired her as his executive assistant. The office gossip had reached me, whispers carried on waves of feigned concern, but I’d dismissed them. I had trusted Marcus. I had trusted the fifteen years we’d built together. But I never expected this girl to show up at my front door, demanding I abdicate my life.
You can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. She was hardly a threat. She was a footnote.
I couldn’t be bothered to respond to her pathetic attempt at intimidation. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus.
“Come home.”
I hung up and met Isabel’s gaze. “Marcus is on his way. He can make his choice right here. If he chooses you, I’ll walk away. How does that sound?”
A cold little smirk played on her lips. “I was trying to give you a graceful exit, but if you insist on humiliating yourself, so be it. Just don’t start crying when he tells you the truth.”
I offered a small, knowing smile and said nothing.
Thirty minutes later, the front door opened. Marcus was home.
1
“Marcus, darling,” Isabel began, her voice dripping with a cloying sweetness. “Tell her. She said she’ll leave if you choose me. Tell her who you want.”
I looked at Marcus, a gentle smile on my face. I believed in him. I knew what his choice would be. In this, I had absolute confidence.
The next second, a set of documents landed on the coffee table in front of me. Divorce papers.
My smile froze on my face. It must have been the most awkward, pathetic smile of my life. A moment ago, I had been so certain he would choose me without a second thought. I’d seen Isabel as nothing more than a child, a silly distraction not even worthy of my competition.
Reality delivered a slap so hard it left my ears ringing. I was a clown in my own home, a caricature of the confident wife I thought I was. The sight of those papers, with Marcus’s name printed next to mine, felt like a stone lodging in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Eight years of dating, five years of marriage. Thirteen years together, gone, like smoke.
I didn’t scream. I didn’t plan to. I took a steadying breath, pushed down the chaos churning inside me, and picked up the papers. As my eyes scanned the terms, the fragile calm I’d just found shattered.
“You want me to walk away with nothing?”
I dropped the agreement and looked straight at Marcus. “You think this is reasonable?” My voice climbed, sharp with disbelief. “You cheat on me, and then you try to steal our entire life’s work? Marcus, do you really think I’m that weak?”
The victor, Isabel, scoffed from her position by his side. “What, you think you deserve a cut? For years, you’ve eaten his food, lived in his house, spent his money. Now you want to take half? Have you no shame?”
“Was I speaking to you?” I shot back, my glare silencing her.
“Marcus, she’s scaring me,” she whimpered, turning to him. “Make her sign the papers and get out.”
Marcus stroked her cheek, a soft, soothing gesture. The same gesture he’d used on me a thousand times. Now, watching it, I felt sick. He murmured a few comforting words to her before turning his cold eyes back to me. “Isabel is blunt, but she has a point. I won’t ask you to repay what I’ve spent on you over the years. Just sign the papers, Olivia, and we can be done.”
A point? I stared into his eyes, searching for a flicker of guilt, of remorse. There was nothing. His indifference was a blade to the heart. I kept my voice as level as I could. “I want you to look me in the eye and say that again.”
He didn't hesitate. “It’s over, Olivia. Sign the papers.”
I grabbed the divorce agreement, crumpled it into a tight ball, and threw it at his face. “Oh, we’re getting a divorce. But you’re the one who’ll be left with nothing. My lawyer will be in touch.”
I stood, ready to walk away, unable to stomach the sight of them for another second. I had given him a chance. If he’d offered a fair split, for the sake of our history, I might have walked away quietly. But this was pure greed. This was humiliation. He could have the divorce, but he wouldn’t get a single cent more than he deserved.
“Marcus, what is all this?” A woman’s voice cut through the tension as a figure rushed into the room.
His mother, Helen. She grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “Don’t you worry, Olivia. I’ll handle this.” She guided me back to the sofa.
The divorce was happening, that was certain, but I had to consider Helen’s feelings. Her health had been fragile for years. I sat back down as she poured me a cup of tea.
“Sweetheart, you listen to me,” she said softly. “I will not let Marcus divorce you.” She turned a stern gaze on her son and his new pet. “What have I told you both?”
She looked back at Marcus. “Have you forgotten the last three years? When I was sick, who was by my side? It was Olivia. She took care of everything, never complaining. Have you forgotten that? The doctors themselves said I wouldn’t have recovered if it weren’t for her meticulous care.”
I hadn’t cried when Marcus chose Isabel. But hearing Helen’s words, feeling that validation, tears pricked my eyes and began to fall.
“Mom, what about the baby’s birth certificate?” Marcus asked, his voice strained.
The baby?
My head snapped up. Isabel placed a delicate hand on her flat stomach, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.
The baby. It had always been the great sorrow of our marriage. We’d seen countless specialists, endured endless tests, only for the doctors to deliver the final verdict: Marcus was sterile.
So… Isabel had agreed to that. If that was the case, then perhaps Marcus was right to choose her. I wasn't the one who could give him what he wanted.
As I sat there in stunned silence, Helen took my hand again. “Olivia, you’ve always been the reasonable one.” She wiped a tear from my cheek with her thumb. “How about this? You sign the divorce papers. But in my heart, you will always be my daughter-in-law. You don’t have to leave this house.”
She squeezed my hand. “I promise you, your lifestyle won’t change one bit. When Isabel has the baby, you can help out. You know my health… I can’t raise a child. And I wouldn’t trust a stranger with my grandbaby. The doctors all say you’re the best caregiver they’ve ever seen. I know you’ll do a wonderful job raising the child.”
I pulled my hand from hers. A wave of nausea washed over me as I remembered the tears I’d shed just moments ago. It was a performance. A perfectly rehearsed play.
Stay in the house after the divorce? They wanted a free nanny.
I laughed, a short, bitter sound.
I stood up and faced Marcus. “I’m giving you three days to draw up a new agreement. If you insist on leaving me with nothing, I will find my own way to get justice.”
“Olivia, I’m trying to help you, and this is how you behave?” Helen’s face hardened, the warmth vanishing completely. “How will you survive without Marcus? Do you think you can maintain this lifestyle on your own? A man of his stature, it's practically expected for him to… have other options. Besides, Isabel is pregnant. She’s the hero here. She’s not even asking you to leave. Why are you making a scene?”
Making a scene?
There was nothing left to say. I turned and walked toward the door.
“Stop right there,” Isabel called out. “Ever heard of pulling the rug out from under someone?”
I paused. She was beaming. “Marcus has already transferred all his assets into my name. And just yesterday, as the CEO of the company, he secured a new hundred-million-dollar loan from the bank. If you want to split the assets, Olivia, the only thing you’ll be splitting is that debt.” She cocked her head. “Are you sure you want to go to court?”
Marcus produced another file from his briefcase. “Out of respect for our marriage, I was trying to spare you this. But if you insist on fighting for half the assets, you can sign this agreement instead.”
It was a masterstroke of cruelty.
I locked my eyes on Marcus. “Scheme all you want. I’m only giving you three days. You’d better find a way to get those assets back. Trust me, if you don’t do what I say, in three days, your world will start to unravel.”
“Have you been reading too many romance novels, you pathetic housewife?” Isabel shouted at my back.
Housewife?
I turned back, my gaze falling on Marcus. “I stayed home for three years to take care of your mother. Has it been so long that you’ve forgotten who I really am?”
“Who is she?” Isabel cooed, clinging to Marcus’s arm. “Darling, I hear housewives have vivid imaginations. Tell me, what grand title has she given herself?”
Marcus looked at Isabel with sickening affection. “She’s exactly what you said. A housewife.”
I took one last, long look at him, then turned and left without another word.
Tomorrow is the quarterly board meeting. Tomorrow, I would remind him exactly who I am.
The next morning, I arrived at the corporate headquarters early and took my seat in the boardroom.
At 9:30 a.m., the other board members began to file in. It had been three years since I’d last attended a meeting, and the looks they gave me were… different. It seemed they had all forgotten who secured the deals that put this company on the map.
Soon, Marcus arrived.
He was with Isabel. His expression flickered when he saw me, but he quickly composed himself. Isabel, however, shot me a look of pure venom. She walked straight to my chair. “Move.”
There’s a hierarchy to a boardroom table. This seat was mine.
I glanced up at her. “And who are you to be attending a board meeting? Get out.”
“So you lost the war at home, and now you’re bringing the fight to the office?” She placed her hands on the back of my chair. “Gentlemen, perhaps one of you could explain to this woman who I am, and whether or not I have a right to be here.”
Marcus stared at me, a hint of mockery deep in his eyes, as if he was savoring my humiliation. “Ms. Price,” he said, using my maiden name with deliberate formality, “Ms. Shaw is the new Vice President of this company. I believe she has every right to be here.”
Isabel leaned over me, her voice a triumphant whisper. “Now you know who I am. The real question is, what are you doing here? What gives you the right to sit in this chair and attend this meeting?”
I kept my eyes fixed on Marcus. “Since you were so kind as to explain Isabel’s presence, why don’t you explain mine?”
He dismissed me with a wave. “This is a place of business, not your stage for throwing a tantrum. Leave now.”
“Three years,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying across the silent room as I looked at the other board members. “Has it really been long enough for all of you to forget who I am?”
Silence.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll call security,” Marcus threatened.
“Why?” I countered. “If Isabel can attend as Vice President, why can’t I attend as Vice President?”
“Oh, that,” Isabel said with a theatrical laugh. “I suppose Marcus forgot to inform you. Two years ago, due to your continued absence from board meetings, the board voted to remove you from your position as Vice President.”
She leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. “Was that the ace up your sleeve? That you were the VP? So sad. Even if you were, it was a title Marcus gave you. A gift. You never really thought you were somebody, did you?” Her voice dropped to a hiss. “Now, tuck your tail between your legs and get out.”
I stared at Marcus, my blood running cold. “You fired me? You fired me, and you never even told me?”
“Security,” Marcus said, ignoring me completely. He gestured to the door.
Two guards entered and approached my chair. He pointed at me. “Escort her out.”
They moved toward me, but I stood on my own. “I can walk myself.”
At the doorway, I turned back to Marcus. “You seem to have forgotten how this company was built. How every single one of our major contracts was won.”
I saw his eyes flicker, a brief moment of avoidance. He hadn't forgotten. He had chosen to erase me for her.
My voice was ice. “I hear the company is hosting a gala for its partners tomorrow night. I assume it’s to build up Isabel’s profile?”
His face hardened. “You’d better not make a scene. You’ll only embarrass yourself.”
“We’ll see who’s embarrassed,” I said coldly.
Isabel’s challenge followed me out the door. “Olivia, Marcus is being generous, but I won’t be. If you dare show your face tomorrow, I’ll destroy you. But I doubt you have the guts.”
No guts?
I said nothing more. Yesterday, I called him home to make a choice, and I was made a fool. Today, I came to the board meeting, and I was made a fool again.
There won’t be a third time.
I was the fool in those situations because Marcus held all the power. Tomorrow, he wouldn’t.
Standing on the sidewalk below, I looked up at the gleaming skyscraper. It seemed that ever since this building became his, ever since the company truly became an empire, he had changed.
Fine. Let’s see how he fares as a pauper again.
I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Dad, I want a divorce.”
A beat of stunned silence, then an explosion of joy on the other end. “What? What did you say?”
“I’m divorcing Marcus.”
“Thank God! Oh, thank God! You’ve finally come to your senses.”
“I didn’t come to my senses,” I said, my voice tight. “I was pushed.”
My parents had always hated my marriage to Marcus. We were from different worlds, and they saw him as an opportunist. When I insisted on being with him, they cut me off. Later, after I used my own connections and skills to build his company from the ground up, they saw they couldn’t control me financially. They offered an olive branch: they would accept Marcus if we gave them a grandchild.
I was their only child, and they desperately wanted a new life to dote on. But then came the diagnosis: Marcus was sterile. My parents’ disapproval hardened into outright hostility. They even launched a corporate attack against our company. I fought back, working myself to the bone, pulling all-nighters, drinking with clients until I was sick, just to fend them off. They eventually relented, but they never truly accepted him.
“Sweetheart, just tell me what happened,” my father’s voice turned cold, sensing the suppressed rage in mine.
“Tomorrow night, at his gala,” I said. “I want you to ruin him.”
“Done,” he said without hesitation. “I’ll make the arrangements.”
After hanging up, I let out a long, shuddering breath. I had cherished my marriage, fought for it, even at the cost of my relationship with my parents. It had been a shadow over my heart for years.
Today, that shadow was gone.
“When I loved you, you were the king of my world,” I whispered to the empty air.
“Now that I don’t? You’re nothing.”
I gave the building one last look and drove away.
The next evening at seven, I pulled up to The Grand Regent Hotel. Just as I stepped out of my car, Marcus’s town car arrived.
He and Isabel emerged, dressed to the nines.
When she saw me, Isabel tightened her grip on Marcus’s arm and looked me up and down with disdain. “I guess you can’t afford designer clothes without Marcus’s money anymore. You really wore that to this event? Are you determined to be a laughingstock?”
I glanced at her before my eyes landed on Marcus. “You should really get her out more. If she can’t even recognize couture, she has no business being seen in public.”
“Couture?” Isabel’s face darkened. “Marcus, she must have been hiding money from you! You have to get that back, too.”
Marcus squeezed her hand gently. “We will. We’ll expose her for what she really is. A crow can wear feathers, but it will never be a swan.”
Isabel lifted her chin haughtily. “Did you hear that? You’re a crow.”
I ignored them and walked into the hotel.
“Olivia! It’s been too long.”
“We’ve missed you, Olivia! It hasn't been the same.”
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