The Day I Stopped Loving My CEO Husband

A few years ago, Atherton City wasn’t like it is now.

Back then, the world felt chaotic. People spent recklessly and the streets buzzed with unrest.

To pay for school, I worked part-time at a restaurant after class.

One evening, a group of customers blocked my path. Their eyes leered at me as they spoke in their slang I couldn’t understand. One of them reached out and touched me.

I tried to dodge them, but they jostled me anyway. The beer I was carrying spilled, splashing across the floor—and soaking my chest.

My uniform clung to my skin, wet and transparent. The entire room seemed to turn and stare.

I went pale. Embarrassed, I hunched forward, covering myself and bowing repeatedly in apology.

But no one moved. No one spoke. To them, I was just a waitress and this was just a spectacle.

I didn’t remember how many times I said sorry, but the harassment didn’t stop. One of the men stared straight at me with that same disgusting look and muttered something obscene.

He said I wasn’t selling beer—I was selling my body.

That was when Daniel appeared.

Without hesitation, he stepped in front of me, shielding me behind him as he barked out furious curses at the men.

They argued. Then the shouting turned to shoving.

Tables overturned. Plates shattered on the floor.

A beer bottle crashed against Daniel’s head, but he didn’t even flinch. He wiped the blood away, then hurried to pay for the damage.

I dragged him to the nearest pharmacy, my hands trembling, my eyes burning with tears.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll pay you back.”

“There’s no need,” he said simply. “I just couldn’t stand watching them bully someone.”

Noticing I was on the verge of tears, he smirked and teased, “I saved your life. Shouldn’t you repay me with your body?”

I froze, stunned.

He burst out laughing, then stood up and waved casually as he left.

“Relax, I’m just kidding. But try not to look so pathetic next time we meet.”

And just like that, something stirred in me.

Later, I found out we were actually classmates.

He rarely came to class—busy with his startup—but I had seen him on campus a few times. I wanted to talk to him, but he was always surrounded by other students and I was too shy to approach.

It was Daniel who made the first move.

He started coming to the restaurant where I worked, worried that those men might try to retaliate.

That one encounter brought us closer.

We started dating in our sophomore year.

At eighteen, Daniel once spent the whole night knocking on flower shop doors. He laid a sea of roses beneath my tiny rental apartment and stood there until morning—just to confess his feelings.

When I opened the door, he shoved the flowers into my arms, flashing that boyish grin.

“If other girls get this kind of thing, then you should too,” he said, handing me all his savings without hesitation.

“Kayla, be with me and I’ll protect you. If one day you regret choosing me, just say the word—and I’ll let you go.”

“But that day will never come.”

“I won’t let you regret this, Kayla. Trust me.”

And I did trust him.

So when his business hit rough patches later on, I didn’t hesitate to quit my job and help him full-time.

He was always good to me.

He never let me drink, not even one glass—even when he was drunk himself, he’d still stand in front of me to shield me.

I thought it would always be like that.

But I forgot—people change.

As time went on, he became obsessed with the company.

The man who once fought for me now sent me out to close deals and entertain clients on my own, like it was nothing.

Daniel finished his call on the balcony and walked past me without so much as a glance.

Of course. After seven years, even an object can grow dull—let alone a person.

I swallowed the wave of memories crashing through me, felt the ache bloom in my chest and picked up my phone.

I dialed the number I knew by heart.

“Is your previous offer still open?” I asked quietly.

“I’m willing to join your company.”

“But there’s one condition—I want real power.”