Silver Crest Corporation
Night had long since fallen over the city, and the skyline sparkled with lights — but the office on the 33rd floor was still alive with activity, or so it seemed.
A man stood in the elevator, silent, his figure reflected faintly in the metal walls. Clad in a simple black jacket, his presence was quiet, humble — the kind of man no one paid attention to anymore.
It was Rowan. Rowan Hale.
Rowan had married into the Smith family five years ago. His wife was the gorgeous, dashing, and proud CEO of Silver Crest Corporation. Which was a leading company in the whole country. Compared to her, he was mediocre at best. And so, it was normal for the powerful, rich, overbearing Smith family to look down on Rowan. Not because of his character. Not because of his looks. Not because he had committed a crime.
But because he was poor.
Because he didn't carry a powerful, wealthy surname.
And to families like the Smiths, that was more grave than a crime.
Ding! The elevator stopped.
33rd floor.
He stepped out, his shoes silent against the marble flooring. The reception area was empty — odd for a weekday night. The lights down the hall were dimmed, except for one office at the end — the CEO's room. Golden light spilled through the frosted glass panes.
As he approached, a sound came from the room. A soft moan. A gasp…
A man's low chuckle.
He froze. His mind buzzed. He wanted to stop his thoughts, to ignore the possibilities. His heart grew heavy. He wanted to turn back, step into the elevator, and pretend he had heard nothing.
But… no.
He reached for the door, his hand trembling slightly.
He turned the door knob.
Click! It wasn't locked.
He pushed it open — slowly, silently.
And the world shattered.
He tried to calm his mind. All this time he was trying to convince him self that whatever he was imagining was a lie. But here it was. Right before his eyes.
Inside, Bella Smith — the CEO of Silver Crest company — sat atop her sleek office desk, her perfectly tailored blouse halfway unbuttoned. Her lips were on another man's __mmmmmh__mmmmm— Norman Thomson. The heir to the Thomson Conglomerate. Young, smug, and rich beyond belief. His hands were wrapped around Bella's waist, pulling her close. Her legs were around him as if he were the center of her world. Rubbing their body against each other romantically.
Rowan stared, breath caught in his throat. He wanted to shout but the words caught in his throat.
Time didn't slow. It froze.
Sensing someone watching, Bella pulled away suddenly. Her eyes widened when she saw Rowan at the door. Her expression twisted — not with shame, not guilt — but with clear annoyance.
Norman turned, smirking lazily, until he recognized who it was.
"Oh," Norman said with a mocking grin. "Didn't realize this was a shared space."
Rowan said nothing.
Bella stood up, brushing down her skirt and straightening her collar like nothing had happened. "You weren't supposed to be here."
That was her first sentence. Not an apology. Not an explanation. Just… irritation.
Rowan's voice was calm. "You didn't even bother locking the door."
"Because I didn't think you'd show up," she snapped, folding her arms. "What do you want, Rowan?"
He looked between the two of them, eyes unreadable. "So this is what it's been all along?"
Bella laughed coldly. "Don't act surprised. You've always known this wasn't a real marriage. You were convenient. Quiet. Disposable."
Norman stepped forward. "You know, you should be grateful. Most guys in your position would've been kicked out years ago."
Rowan turned his gaze on him — sharp, piercing. Norman's smirk faltered for a second, though he quickly regained his composure.
"You've had everything handed to you," Rowan said, voice low. "I wonder how long you'd last if it were taken away."
Norman scoffed but remained silent — because at that moment, he had no words for his defense.
Bella stepped around her desk. "Save your tough guy act, Rowan. It's over. I'm filing for divorce soon tomorrow .You'll get whatever my lawyers decide to give you. It's more than you deserve anyway."
"Why? Why would you treat me this way? Five years — I've spent five years in your Smith family, living like less than a dog! If you told me to sit, I wouldn't dare stand. And yet — and yet you still betrayed me!" Rowan's voice cracked with bitterness.
Bella laughed mockingly. "A penniless orphan like you? An absolute nobody. How could any woman ever love you?"
She turned and looked at Norman, pride gleaming in her eyes.
"Do you know who he is? Norman Thomson. Heir to the Thomsons — one of the five elite families, and owner of a luxury club. He's also a Vice President at his father's company — Thomson Global. Compared to him, you're nothing but an eyesore. And you still want me to stay loyal to you? Are you for real?"
With that, she walked past him, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.
For a moment, Rowan just stood there. Alone. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air. The desk was a mess — red lipstick marks, scattered papers, and a silk tie that didn't belong to him.
He clenched his fists.
Not from heartbreak.
But from clarity.
It wasn't pain that filled him.
It was something else.
Release.
He stepped out of the office, took the elevator down in silence. The storm had passed, but the air still felt heavy — thick with the scent of wet concrete and betrayal.
For five years…
He had devoted himself to her for five years .Played the role of a caring husband. Supported her rise to successful CEO. Loved her. Silently managed the details of her life.
Yet — in return, all he got was mockery from the Smiths. A slap to his dignity. And the ultimate betrayal from his wife — not even an ounce of regret when caught.
Maybe…
Maybe divorce was the only solution.