Part 1The CEO's Ex-Wife Is Better Off Without His Cheating Ass

My colleague was just joking around, slapping a parking ticket on my windshield and snapping a picture to prank me about a violation.

I fell for it.

Logging onto the city’s traffic violations website, I wasn’t prepared for what I found. It wasn’t a parking ticket. It was a crystal-clear, high-resolution photo from a traffic cam yesterday.

In the photo, Julian’s first love, Claire, was in the passenger seat. She was unbuckled, leaning across the console to press a kiss to his cheek.

And Julian… he was smiling. A radiant, unreserved smile I’d never once seen him wear for me.

Staring at that image, a cold clarity washed over me. This one-sided devotion, this decade of chasing a ghost—it was time to let go.

I quietly paid the fine online.

Then, I drove myself to the clinic and had the abortion.

I drafted the divorce papers and had them messengered to his office.

From this day forward, the mountains are just mountains, and I am just me.

…

My best friend, Tessa, got the news and burst through my door, frantic.

“What the hell is going on with you and Julian? Did he cheat on you?”

I lifted my swollen, red-rimmed eyes, managing a smile that felt more like a grimace. Ten years of looking up to him, of orbiting his world, had earned me a marriage that was nothing more than polite, respectful distance. I had mistaken it for happiness.

Today, a single photograph had shattered that illusion.

Marrying me… for Julian, it had always been a compromise, hadn't it?

Tessa looked at my pathetic, crumbling state, and her anger flared.

“I told you, Liv. I told you Julian Vance was no good, but you wouldn’t listen. You were determined to follow that path until it led you off a cliff.”

“Good riddance, I say! It killed me watching you trail after him like some pathetic puppy!” She took a breath, her tone softening slightly. “Listen, Ian has that international project he needs someone to lead. Why don’t you think about it?”

A bitter taste filled my mouth. I managed a small nod, and only then did I realize tears were already streaming down my face, silent and unstoppable. I fumbled around for a tissue, but Tessa just sighed, pulling me into a hug. “Don't hold it in. Just cry.”

And I did. The dam of my composure broke, and I clung to her, sobbing out all the grievance.

After she dropped me home, she had to run. I called Ian to get the details about the project and realized it was a perfect fit for my skills. I accepted on the spot.

The departure date was in one week. I could handle the work handover online.

Later, washing my face, I caught my reflection in the mirror—this haggard, miserable-looking woman. For the first time, I felt a surge of disgust at myself.

My phone buzzed, jolting me from my thoughts.

“Olivia,” Julian’s voice, infuriatingly polite. “Could you do me a favor and bring my black suit to the office? Thanks.”

Habit took over, and I agreed before I could stop myself. The line went dead before the wrongness of it all sank in. After a moment of hesitation, I decided not to call back and refuse. Julian was often "too busy" to come home anyway. This was my chance to pick up the signed divorce papers in person.

When I arrived, Claire was leaning over Julian's shoulder, both of them focused on his computer screen. A stray strand of her hair brushed against his cheek. He gently caught it, tucking it behind her ear with a tenderness that stole my breath.

His eyes flickered up and met mine. The softness in his expression vanished, replaced by a cool annoyance.

“What took you so long?” he asked, his tone accusatory.

Claire smiled, a soothing hand on his arm, and took the suit from me. “Don’t be harsh, Julian. He’s just stressed out by the team. Thank you for bringing this, Olivia. Don’t mind him.”

She played the part of the gracious lady of the house perfectly, making me feel like the shameful intruder. If this had happened right after she’d returned to the country and become his secretary, I would have erupted.

But now, my voice was flat, devoid of the fury she expected. “Are the papers signed?”

Julian’s eyebrow arched. He let Claire help him into the fresh suit jacket. “What papers?”

“Julian, we should go. We’re going to be late,” Claire interjected, cutting off our conversation.

He gave a slight nod, tossing a dismissive remark over his shoulder as he followed her out. “We’ll talk at home.”

As they walked away, Claire glanced back at me, a triumphant, unconcealed smirk on her face.

I searched his desk, but the divorce agreement was nowhere to be found. My hand accidentally nudged the mouse, and the computer screen lit up.

His desktop wallpaper filled the screen: Julian and Claire, leaning against a seaside railing, their gazes locked, their faces alight with a deep, shared affection.

Another intimacy I had never known.

I grabbed my bag and fled.

Back home, I collapsed behind the front door and wept again. Letting go… it was so much harder than I’d imagined. But it was okay. One day, I would rip Julian out of my heart, root and stem.

Mindlessly scrolling through videos to numb the pain, a "People You May Know" suggestion popped up. I meant to swipe past it, but my thumb slipped and opened the profile.

It was Claire’s.

The latest video was from a funeral. The caption read: In these difficult times, I’m so glad I have you by my side.

The deceased was just a distant uncle of hers.

And there, standing beside her, was Julian, playing the part of the devoted partner. Watching him on screen, so present and attentive, a bitter realization dawned on me. Julian wasn't always "drowning in work." He was just never available for me.

He’d used that same excuse—"work is just too crazy right now"—to leave our own wedding reception halfway through. I remembered the flicker of apology in his eyes and thought it was guilt. I had even comforted him, telling him not to worry.

How laughable it all seemed now. He was probably already regretting it back then.