A Billionaire's Boredom, A Wife's Rise

EO Atticus Monroe, trading my architecture career

him an eight-hour bone broth and

ust...

artment, then came home to blame me for his unhappiness. At a family gala, when I finally stoo

yet he refused my pleas for a divorce,

the video of Atticus and Isla. After punish

the life y

to reclaim the life, and the c

pte

Dunl

high society for my gourmet cooking. Then, just outside his office door, I overhear

ted thermos, its warmth a familiar comfort against my palms. This was my ritual, my duty, my expression of love.

slightly ajar. Atticus' s voice, smooth and confident, was in

ulian asked, his tone casual. "You guys are like

ips. Of course, things were good. I had ded

s a shor

ice lacked its usual conviction.

. She's a saint. A goddess in the kitchen. And y

tched, heavy and uncomfortable. I held my breath,

ssed, his voice low and laced with a wearines

d like a physi

"She manages the house perfectly, she cooks like a Michelin-star chef, she never compl

been plunged into icy water. My meticulously constructed life, my identity as the perfect wife, crumbled in

of the predictable routine he had grown tired of. I had given up my career as an architect, a passion that once defined me, to become Mrs. Attic

e was

r on the same page. He saw my devotion as ted

ar before my presence was known, a new voice sliced

are you going to hi

is ex-fiancée. The woman my mother-

, landing on me instantly. A slow, triumphant smile spread acro

. "Bringing Atticus his lunch again. You're just the most devoted wife,

ance at my presence. He didn' t meet my eyes. He simply reached out and took the th

lacing it on his desk w

d you create today, Eliza? Atticus was just telling me the other day how he sometimes misses the s

Complained about my cooking-the one thing eve

s desk, her thigh just inches from his arm, and opened the thermos. She pic

h her expression was uni

d used to describe

chest, a pressure building behind

tood up and took a step toward me, his hand reaching for mine. "Liza, are you okay

d back before h

ined everything. As if her needs an hour before lunch were more important than the blatant dis

t, my throat too

king the back of my hand in a gesture that was meant to be soothing but felt

ed brightly, breaking the tense silence. She shot a pointed look at me.

guys in the room chim

can't

long since we

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice regaining so

He picked up the now-empty thermos and lid, pressing them

a," he said, his tone fina

the fire of my anger and leaving only cold ash behind.

ith malice, called out behind me. "Oh, Atticus, why didn't you

n't turn around, but I could fe

his voice carrying a condescending edge that cut me deeper than anything else. "Sh

uncomfortable. I, the woman who had contorted herself into a

to move, to walk out of that office and down the long, silen