My Wife's Neglect Ended Our Marriage

“I’m from a small town too. If you look down on Emerson, then you’re looking down on me.”

Georgia and I had scored the exact same marks on our college entrance exams.

Curious and hopeful, I asked her which university she wanted to apply to.

Without hesitation, she said, “Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

Georgia’s love had always been passionate and sincere.

“Do you like—” Just as I was about to ask, my uncle stormed into view.

His eyes were bloodshot with rage. “There you are, you little bastard!”

“You've got guts now, huh? Fooling around with a girl?”

“Because you ran off, I couldn’t deliver you on time and nearly got my legs broken!”

The steel pipe in his hand was as thick as an arm. He swung it toward me without warning.

But Georgia threw herself in front of me, shielding me with her own body.

I couldn’t see anything because she pressed me to the ground so tightly—but the sharp scent of blood began to flood the air.

When she was taken away in the ambulance, her eyes were scrunched shut from the pain, and her voice was barely audible.

“I do like you..."

"Will you be with me?”

My uncle was sentenced to three years in prison for intentional assault.

When we arrived in the capital for college, Georgia still had surgical screws in her hand.

After graduation, we chose to start a business together.

In a cramped basement apartment, we once shared a single bowl of porridge for dinner.

My courage had been born in three moments.

The first was when I ran away with her that night. The second when I confessed in that blood-stained ambulance, and the last was when I chose to start a business despite the odds.

So now, when I saw the photo Reniel sent me, I had no courage left to face it.

The girl who once sat beside me eating plain porridge under the moonlight—pure, quiet, radiant—had been swallowed by luxury, lust, and noise.

It took me a week to pack up everything that belonged to me and my son.

During that time, Georgia never came home.

But the news about her never stopped flooding my ears.

She took Reniel to business banquets, walking hand-in-hand, flaunting their intimacy.

She bought the entire new collection of luxury watches—just to make him smile.

One press release even said she rented out the top floor of Paramount Hotel. After dinner with Reniel, they watched a private fireworks show on the rooftop.

The numbness in my chest slowly twisted into a dull ache.

Her bold displays had landed the headline [CEO of Herrera Group Rumored to Be Facing Divorce] firmly at the top of trending searches.

The comment section was buzzing.

[If I were her, I’d pick the assistant too. Youth is priceless.]

[If they dare show up in public like this, they’re probably already divorced.]

[Let’s be honest—men age twice as fast after 25. Powerful women want younger men now.]

[She and the assistant really do look more matched.]

I still remember when a gossip reporter once tried to spread rumors about me and Georgia breaking up.

Before the article could go live, Georgia blocked it entirely.

She made that reporter apologize publicly—and after that day, he vanished from the industry.

She knew how much I cared. She was always extra cautious about any news involving us.

But now... it feels like she’s quietly pulling down the curtain on our marriage.

I returned to my office. Piles of paperwork towered on my desk.

I’d taken a week off, and Georgia hadn’t once asked where I’d gone.

Brushing the files aside, I called my assistant in.

When I handed her the department access pass labeled [Director of Legal Affairs], her pupils widened.

“I’m transferring full permissions to you,” I told her calmly.

“Let the system know—any documents that Georgia doesn’t have time to approve of should no longer be forwarded to the Legal Department.”

“Sir, you’re not seriously splitting with President Herrera...”

I nodded. “It’s over.”

After processing every backlog of paperwork, I picked up the divorce agreement and headed to the top floor.