Sorry, Ex-Husband, There would be no Ninth Marriage

The brush glided smoothly across the canvas. I mixed a deep, bruised shade of purple, completely lost in the quiet of my room.

I was just counting the days. Vaughn was moving fast, pulling strings in the shadows to finalize everything for our sudden wedding and my complete extraction from the country.

The heavy oak door suddenly banged open.

Brandon stormed in, his tie loosened, a crumpled piece of paper crushed in his fist.

“Why the hell did you resign from your post?” he demanded, his voice echoing off the walls. “You’re supposed to be my head secretary! I just learned you haven’t been working for days!”

I didn't even flinch. I carefully dipped my brush into the water glass. “You locked me in this house, Brandon. Have you forgotten?”

“Stop making excuses!” he snapped, crossing the room in three long strides. “The clients are a massive mess because you didn’t do what you had to do!”

Before I could answer, he lashed out. His hand caught the edge of my easel, violently shoving it. The wet canvas crashed onto the hardwood floor.

He stepped right on it, his expensive leather shoe smearing hours of my work into an ugly, ruined streak of paint.

I stared at the ruined canvas, my chest tight.

“I told you,” Brandon growled, leaning down so his face was inches from mine. “You are mine. So go to the office right now and arrange everything. Including the charity ball on the 17th of next week.”

The 17th. The night before my scheduled flight. The night before I was supposed to marry Vaughn.

I looked up at his furious, entitled face. Fighting him would only draw attention to my escape.

I let out a long, exhausted sigh. “Fine.”

An hour later, I walked onto the executive floor of Sterling Corporation. The whispers started the second the elevator doors opened.

“She’s still here? I thought she was finally gone.”

“She just won't let him go. It’s pathetic.”

“She always played favorites anyway, sleeping her way to the top.”

I ignored the venomous stares and walked straight to my desk. I spent the next few hours ruthlessly fixing the scheduling disasters and smoothing over angry clients.

Around noon, the glass doors swung open. Paula strolled into the department, carrying a tray of expensive coffees.

“Oh, Victoria!” Paula called out loudly, making sure the entire floor was watching. She walked over to my desk, a sickly sweet smile on her face. “You’re still working? Brandon is just too kind, letting his ex-wife keep a job out of pity. Just make sure you don't mess up the charity ball, okay? It's very important to us.”

She left a coffee on my desk with a condescending pat on my shoulder. The entire office snickered. I just picked up the cup and dropped it straight into the trash can.

A few days later, the tension in the company reached its peak.

It was the quarterly investor meeting. The grand boardroom was packed with the most powerful shareholders in the city.

Brandon sat at the head of the long mahogany table, radiating power.

Paula, despite having no actual position in the company, was perched in a chair right behind him, her hand resting possessively on his shoulder.

I stood at the front of the room, holding the presentation remote.

“If you direct your attention to the screen,” I said clearly, “you will see the projected revenue for the upcoming quarter.”

I clicked the remote.

The massive screen flickered. But it wasn't my financial slides.

It was a security video from Brandon’s private office. The timestamp in the corner was from months ago—the night of our fourth divorce attempt.

My own voice, thick with tears and desperation, echoed loudly through the silent boardroom.

“Please, Brandon. Just look at me. Don't do this.”

On the massive screen, my past self was sobbing, clinging to his suit jacket. I watched in absolute horror as the video showed me desperately trying to kiss him, begging him to love me back, while Brandon stood there, cold and unmoving, looking at me like I was garbage.

The boardroom erupted into shocked gasps and frantic whispers.

Paula jumped up from her chair, her hands flying to her mouth in exaggerated horror.

“Oh, god!” she cried out, her voice piercing the room, trembling with fake devastation. Tears instantly spilled down her perfectly made-up cheeks. “I can't believe you’d do this to me, Victoria! You’re seducing your own CEO? Have you no shame? You knew we were together!”

The remote slipped from my numb fingers, clattering against the floor.