My Wife Chose Her Assistant Over Our Family Legacy

My father-in-law and mother-in-law had placed their full trust in me. Before they passed, they asked only one thing: take care of the rare gold-tipped fish.

Those ten fish weren’t just rare—they were insurance for Sullivan Corporation. If Nina ever ran into trouble running the company—if the capital chain broke or the business suffered losses—selling the rare gold-tipped fish could pull the company back from the brink.

Their value? Two hundred million.

But now, that lifeline was gone. Wasted.

Nina didn’t hesitate. The moment she signed the divorce agreement, she stood in the middle of the office and declared, loud enough for everyone to hear:

“Starting today, Michael is relieved of all duties in the company.”

Then, as if rubbing salt in the wound:

“The position of Vice President will be temporarily taken over by Brandon.”

Gasps spread through the office like wildfire. The employees looked around in disbelief.

Brandon? That smug expression on his face—like he’d just won the lottery. He shot me a mocking glance, triumphant.

I didn’t say a word. Just walked out of the building, planning to drive home. But before I could get in the car, the head of security jogged over, looking awkward.

“Mr. Sterling… Miss Sullivan just called. She said… you’re no longer permitted to use any company vehicles.”

I paused, then let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

Of course.

Since marrying Nina, nothing—no property, no car, no real estate—had ever been registered under my name. After all, I had been the one to "marry in."

I tossed the car keys to the security captain and walked out of the parking lot. I hailed a taxi and headed back toward the villa.

But when I arrived at the gates of the community, I was stopped again—this time by the residential security.

The property manager was already waiting. His eyes flickered with discomfort as he said, cautiously, “Mr. Sterling… Miss Sullivan just called. She asked us to cancel your facial recognition access.”

“I’m really sorry. Without her authorization, we can’t let you in.”

He hesitated, then added, “Did you and Miss Sullivan have a fight? Maybe you could call her and explain?”

Cruel. That was the only word for her.

Just as I stood there, letting it all sink in, my phone rang.

Nina’s voice came through, cold and commanding:

“Michael, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”

“As long as you return to the company now, apologize to Brandon in front of everyone, and write a written apology of no less than 8,000 words… I’ll forgive you.”

I cut her off mid-sentence. My voice was calm. Flat.

“No need. I’m divorcing you.”

Then I hung up.

I could imagine her face twisting in rage on the other end of the line.

Sure enough, not long after, Sullivan Corporation released an official statement:

Nina and I had signed a divorce agreement. Brandon would be promoted to Vice President.

The internet erupted. Social media lit up with speculation:

“Wait—Nina and Michael are divorced? No way!”

“Weren’t they madly in love just two years ago?”

“I remember their wedding—it was huge. And now, just like that, they split?”

“What happened? Did someone cheat?”

“I saw Nina out shopping with some guy a while ago... they looked pretty close.”

“No way. You must’ve mistaken her for someone else. Nina’s not that kind of woman.”

But the real storm came right after.

Suddenly, the internet was flooded with smears about me—claims I had bullied classmates in school, that I’d been disloyal in the marriage, that I was a manipulative hypocrite hiding behind a polished façade.

It was obvious someone was orchestrating it—dragging my name through the mud, trying to bury me in it.

Even without thinking, I knew who was behind it.

Nina and Brandon.