My Ex-Wife, My New Boss

That night, my colleagues invited me to a hotel, telling me they'd arranged for some private entertainment to be sent to my room.

I was about to turn and walk out when the doorbell rang. Standing outside was my ex-wife.

The woman who had drained my love dry for the sake of her first love.

The woman who, on our anniversary, had played out this very "private booking" fantasy with him.

Damn, Ethan, you lucky son of a bitch. Look at this one, she's gorgeous

After taking a few more lingering looks at my ex-wife, my colleagues reluctantly filed out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, she slammed me against the wall.

Her eyes were burning with rage. Ethan. You have a hell of a nerve. You're calling for escorts now?

You, she seethed, her voice dangerously low, belong to me. This is the last time. If I find out you've done this again, I'll personally make sure you never use it again.

Her condescending attitude dredged up all the bitter memories.

A surge of my own anger coursed through me, and I shoved her away.

What right do you have to control me?

I shot back. As my ex-wife? Or as the entertainment? Let's not forget, I'm the one who ordered you. You should be listening to me.

With that, I yanked the door open and walked out.

To my surprise, my colleagues were still huddled outside the door.

They swarmed me the second they saw me.

Ethan, man! What are you doing? You're not gonna enjoy a beauty like that?

I'm worried about catching something.

Nah, I don't think so, man. I specifically asked about that.

Then, their eyes darted around mischievously. Well, if you're not going to maybe we will

They started to move toward the door, but I blocked their path.

I wouldn't if I were you, I warned them.

She's divorced, on her second marriage. You really want her psycho husband coming after you?

I was trying to give them a friendly warning, but the more I said, the more suspicious they became.

I just sighed, shook my head, and walked away.

The next day at the office, my ex-wife, Chloe, walked up to my desk in front of everyone and placed a small cupcake on it.

Then came the announcement: she was my new boss.

The jaws of the colleagues from last night dropped wide enough to fit an egg.

Holy shit she's our new boss? Ethan, you missed the chance of a lifetime to sleep your way to the top!

I don't know why would the new boss give you a cupcake? You think it was love at first sight last night?

Then, my words from the hotel came back to them.

Wait a minute, Ethan are you the psycho ex-husband?

No. I'm the one she cheated on.

I tossed the cupcake into the trash, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the office.

Let them guess. I was done explaining.

I always thought that if I saw my ex-wife again, I would be filled with sorrow.

But in reality, my heart no longer stirred for her. Not even a ripple.

Chloe and I were married for five years.

They say most couples don't survive the seven-year itch. For us, it only took five. Five years of her relentlessly chipping away at my love for the sake of her high school sweetheart.

The moment I finally gave up was on our fifth anniversary.

I'd spent the entire day decorating our home, preparing a surprise for her.

It turned out she had a surprise of her own, and it arrived first.

That evening, I received a video.

In it, Chloe was dressed in a skimpy French maid's outfit, knocking on a hotel room door.

Hello, she cooed. I'm your private booking for the evening. Are you Mr. Mason?

I am.

Excellent. Then I'll begin my service for you now

As she spoke, Chloe knelt down between Mason's legs.

What happened next was painfully obvious.

My fingers trembled.

This was her anniversary gift to me? How thrilling.

A moment later, two dimly lit photos appeared on Mason's social media feed.

The caption read, Tonight, you're my little kitten.

I had Mason on my close friends' list, so I got the notification instantly.

My little kitten how sweet.

I immediately called Chloe. It rang for a long time before she finally picked up, her breathing ragged and uneven.

What are you doing? I asked through clenched teeth.

Working late.

Just then, I heard Mason's heavy breathing in the background.

And in that moment, the rage inside me evaporated, replaced by an unnerving, absolute calm.

I was such a pathetic fool.

Why did I even bother asking when I already knew? Was I that desperate to be lied to?

Chloe, I said, my voice devoid of all emotion.

Tomorrow morning. Eight-thirty. The courthouse. We're filing for divorce.

The line went silent for a moment, then I heard a sharp cry of pain from Chloe.

Finally, she shot back, her voice dripping with accusation, Ethan, are you starting this again? Divorce? Seriously?

Just be there tomorrow. If you're not, I'm filing a contested divorce.

I couldn't listen to another second of it. I hung up.

I started packing, my only thought to escape this house, to break free from the prison I had built for myself around her.

As I packed, I saw the trash can, overflowing with matching couples' items. Matching toothbrushes, matching shower caps, matching watches.

All of them bought by me. None of them ever touched by her.

I should have known then. She never loved me.

All these years, I had locked myself away in the illusion that she did.

Even our wedding photo was a lie. Her smile was forced, while I grinned beside her like a lovesick idiot.

How ironic.

The distance between us was a wall she had built, a wall I could never cross.

I moved into a small apartment I'd bought before we were married, threw my stuff down, and collapsed onto the bed.

For the first time in a long time, I slept soundly.

The next morning, I was humming a tune on my way to the courthouse.

I took a number and waited in the hall for Chloe. She was always punctual. I'd said 8:30, so she would be there.

But two hours passed, and there was no sign of her.

Then, Mason's social media updated again.

It was a nine-photo grid. Chloe, fast asleep, her body covered in a constellation of purple and blue bruises.

Mason's caption, Oops. I think I was a little too rough with my kitten last night.

Perfect.

I screenshotted the post and saved it. I thought I would be furious, that I would call her like the pathetic clown I used to be, demanding an explanation.

But instead, I felt a rare sense of clarity.

This was evidence of her infidelity, gift-wrapped and handed to me. Only a fool would refuse it.

After saving the images, my fingers trembled slightly.

It was a lie to say it didn't hurt. This was someone I had loved for five years.

But I had already pulled myself almost completely free. This was just the last thread.

I waited at the courthouse until they closed for lunch, but Chloe never showed.

A clerk walked over. Sir, we're closing for our lunch break. You can come back this afternoon.

I nodded. Okay.

What are you here for?

A divorce.

Well, if the other party hasn't shown up after all this time, it probably means they don't want one. Maybe you two should go home and talk things over.

I shook my head. No, she was up all night with her lover. She probably hasn't gotten out of bed yet.

The clerk stared at me, shocked into silence.

As I walked out, I called Chloe again.

This time, she answered immediately, her voice sharp with irritation. What do you want?

The divorce papers. When are you coming to sign them?

Sensing my anger, Chloe paused, then said, What's the big deal? We can talk about it when I get home tonight.

And with that, she hung up without a second thought.

So, I did exactly what I said I would. I filed for a contested divorce.

With the clerk's guidance, I completed the process online.

That afternoon, I bought some groceries and new housewares, planning to cook for myself.

I had just put everything away when Chloe's call came through. Her voice was laced with fury.

Where are you? It's this late and you're still not home?

It was seven in the evening.

Because I wasn't at home to greet her, she was furious. Yet, last night, and countless nights before, she had stayed out all night without a word.

When I didn't answer, she continued.

Weren't you whining about an anniversary gift? I bought you one.

I ignored her bait. Did you receive the summons?

The what?

I told you. If you didn't come to sign the papers, I would file for a contested divorce. You should have received the court summons by now.

Ethan, are you sick in the head? Can't we just live our lives in peace? Why are you making such a scene about divorce?

How can your master take his rightful place if I don't get out of the way? Or do you just enjoy the thrill of the affair so much you don't want to get divorced?

My voice was ice cold. If you don't want this to get ugly, just sign the papers.

I hung up on her.

I didn't want to tear everything apart.

We had been together for five years; a little dignity at the end was the least we could do for each other.

I washed the vegetables and started cooking.

Tonight, I was making something just for me. Something insanely spicy.

An hour later, as I was about to sit down and eat, I heard a noise at the door.

Chloe let herself in.

She was wearing a sheer black dress, the bruises on her body faintly visible, making her look even more suspect.

Her face was a dark storm cloud, her eyes fixed on me in a death glare.

In the past, I would have been on my knees, crawling to her, begging for forgiveness.

That's how it always was between us. Right or wrong, if she frowned, I was the one at fault.

But now, with a stark clarity, I knew I had done nothing wrong.

In fact, looking at her in that outfit, I felt nothing. It was just an outfit.

So it was true. Love really does put a filter on everything.

Note to self, I thought. Change the locks tomorrow. Don't want any more trash finding its way in.