The Day I Stopped Loving My CEO Husband

At the company’s celebration banquet, my husband, Daniel Murphy, raised his glass and took a drink—for his female secretary.

Then, with a lazy smile, he pulled the visibly flustered Elena Brooks up onto the stage.

“This big project took five years to finally complete,” he began. “Everyone worked hard, but no one more than my secretary, Elena. For the past two years, she’s worked day and night without rest.”

He paused, then smiled as if he was handing out candy.

“To show my appreciation, I’ve decided to appoint her as the new Product Department Manager and award her a 15% stake in the company. I hope everyone can learn from her dedication.”

The hall erupted into murmurs and whispers. Every gaze immediately turned toward me.

There was only one reason for the commotion—I was the current Product Department Manager.

Daniel, seemingly indifferent to my presence or reaction—or perhaps never once considering I might object—allowed himself to be helped off the stage by Elena, slightly tipsy and utterly unaware of the knife he’d just driven into my back.

I couldn't feel the eyes burning into me. All I felt was a cold, numbing chill sweeping through my body.

Just like that, with a single offhand announcement, my five years of effort—everything I’d built—was handed to someone else without a second thought.

At that moment, I knew our relationship was over.

I made up an excuse to leave the event early and went straight to the hospital to schedule my next abortion.

As I sat in the waiting room with my hand over my stomach, I was calmer than I expected.

I loved this child more than anything—but I couldn’t sacrifice my entire life for a child.

In my phone’s memo, I jotted down three things.

Abortion. Divorce. Change companies.

This time, I was the one who didn’t want him anymore.

After the procedure, I took a taxi home.

When I walked into the living room, Daniel was passed out, lazily sprawled across the sofa. Elena was sitting close beside him, leaning in to untie his tie. From a distance, it looked like they were about to kiss.

At the sound of the door, she quickly glanced at me and leapt up, pretending to be flustered.

“Mrs. Murphy,” she said sweetly. “Mr. Murphy drank a bit too much tonight—he was covering for me. I was worried he wouldn’t feel well, so I brought him home. Please don’t misunderstand.”

Her tone held a subtle challenge, one I didn’t bother acknowledging. I just smiled to myself.

I had been the one who hired Elena. I saw in her the same hunger and fire I once had—the same refusal to give up. That was why I brought her on board. Never in a million years did I imagine she would repay me like this.

But now that I no longer cared about Daniel, why should I care about her?

“There’s no misunderstanding,” I replied coolly. “Thank you for the trouble.”

She seemed momentarily stunned by my lack of reaction. Her smile faltered. Then she turned to look at Daniel again, her expression filled with reluctant affection.

“I’ll be heading out, then,” she said. “I made some hangover soup in the kitchen. Make sure to feed it to Mr. Murphy while it’s still warm.”

After she left, I sat down by myself and carefully reviewed the divorce agreement the lawyer had just sent over. Once I confirmed everything was in order, I printed it out and signed my name.

Daniel must have grown tired of waiting because he rubbed his temples, opened his eyes and frowned at me with irritation.

“Is there anything more important than taking care of me?” he muttered. “Anyway, Elena’s been working hard too. Tomorrow, make an extra portion of medicinal food—I’ll bring it to the office for her.”

In the past, I never needed him to say anything. Anything related to him was always my top priority.

When he started the company and needed help, I gave up a stable, high-paying job to build it with him from scratch.

When he was running around, exhausting himself, I taught myself how to make medicinal meals to support his health.

When he needed to secure a project, I went out drinking with clients on his behalf—even while I was pregnant.

Looking back now, I had never once said no. And for what?

It was all meaningless.

Without glancing at him, I pressed the pen to paper and signed my name.

“I can’t do it,” I said flatly. “Ask your good secretary instead.”

“Not just medicinal dishes—whatever you need, ask her. She can satisfy you, anyway.”

His expression darkened. Even the haze of alcohol seemed to clear as he stared at me.

“What are you trying to say?”

“She’s just a young girl, Kayla. Don’t use your dirty tricks on her.”