Ten Years of Split-Bill Marriage, Then I Walked Away

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, absorbed by the mask before anyone could see.

Under Vivian's amused gaze, Pamela got to work.

As she pulled the obstruction from the toilet, she heard the click of a camera shutter behind her. Several times.

"Mrs. Sanchez, I just posted your hard work to the company group chat! Your fearless dedication to the job is truly an inspiration to us all!"

Vivian beamed at her.

Pamela didn't hear a word of it. She just stared at the thing in her hand. A pair of sheer purple panties.

The same ones from the photo Vivian had sent last night.

Vivian's brows pinched together in mock embarrassment. "Oh my, how did those end up in here? It must have been that day with Mr. Sanchez..."

Her cheeks flushed with theatrical indignation. "I'm heading to his office later for a work briefing, and he still wants to see me in them!"

"Mrs. Sanchez, would you be a dear and run an errand for me? There's an unmanned shop a few blocks down. Pick me up a new pair?"

She pulled a wad of bills from her pocket and shoved them into Pamela's hand before she could refuse.

Walking from the restroom to the front entrance of the tower, every person Pamela passed recoiled from her like she carried the plague.

Those who brushed by her covered their noses and snickered. She caught a whispered remark: "Gold diggers really go all in these days."

On the walk back to Sanchez Tower with the purchase, Pamela pressed a hand to her chest, over the numb ache there. What exactly did I dig up?

Ten years of marriage had left her with a bank balance of zero and a lover who had never loved her back.

Her phone chimed with a deposit notification. Her paycheck. The last bit of strength drained from her body.

Ten years hadn't been enough to grind down her pride or her feelings. But in that single moment, both evaporated into nothing.

She carried the underwear along with two documents she'd prepared and walked toward William's office.

One was a resignation letter. The other was a divorce agreement.

Before pushing open the door, she glanced at the secretary's desk outside his office. Empty.

William looked up when she entered. A telltale flush colored his face.

"What are you doing in here?" His voice was hoarse, his tone strained with something barely held in check.

Ten years ago, he had spoken to her in that same low register, soft and tender. Pamela.

"Pamela?" he called.

The ice in his voice snapped her back to the present. She set everything on his desk.

"Your secretary asked me to buy her underwear. She said you needed them urgently."

William arched a brow and scoffed. "You'll really swallow anything to keep the Sanchez name, won't you?"

"This is my resignation letter."

Surprise flickered across his face. The cutting remark forming on his lips died before it landed.

Because she continued, her voice perfectly level: "The other one is our divorce agreement."

William's expression sharpened in an instant, cold and scrutinizing.

His fingers clamped down on the leather armrests of his chair. He drew several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak, and even then his expression was far from pleasant.

"Playing hard to get doesn't work on me, Pamela."

If she hadn't known exactly who was crouched beneath his wide executive desk at that very moment, she might have actually believed he was asking her to stay.

"Mr. Sanchez, I'm tired."

"Tired?" William laughed. His handsome features held no trace of warmth. "Pamela, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the Sanchez family's lap of luxury for ten years. What changed today? Or have you already latched onto some other rich man with that body of yours?"

"Don't think for a second I'll go soft."

Every word was a blade, sinking into her chest one after another.

He picked up her divorce agreement between two fingers, gave it a careless glance, then flicked it into the air.

The pages drifted to the floor, weightless. Just like her dignity. Just like her heart.

His thin lips moved, and what came out was vicious and vile.

"I don't agree to a divorce. I'm not done with you yet, Pamela."

"Ss—!" The words had barely left his mouth when William winced and hissed in pain.

His little mistress, apparently unhappy that he'd refused the divorce, was throwing a tantrum under his desk.