100 Boxes of Ramen for My Cheating CEO Wife

Why didn't you pack my daughter lunch? You know damn well spicy food wrecks her stomach! My mother-in-law's shrill voice grated against my eardrum.

I stared at the two Instagram screenshots glowing on my phone screen. A harsh scoff scraped my throat.

The first was from Chase, Sloane's new secretary. He had posted a picture of the beef bourguignon I had spent three hours slow-cooking.

[The perfect Queen saved me from cheap takeout. The stomachache knight finally gets a Michelin-star meal made with love.]

The second screenshot was from Sloane. My wife, who hadn't posted on social media in years, uploaded a photo of a cheap cup of spicy instant ramen.

[Such a nostalgic, familiar taste.]

She handed over my hours of labor just to pamper her little secretary, ate literal garbage herself, and then let me take the fall?

I jabbed the end-call button. My thumb tapped out the number for a massive wholesale distributor.

"One hundred boxes of the cheapest slum-tier instant ramen, delivered straight to the Sloane Corporation front desk. Since she loves eating this bottom-shelf trash so much, I'll make her eat her fill right in front of the entire company!"

Chapter 1

I had barely stepped through the front door when Bennett, my executive assistant, texted me. It was an Instagram screenshot. Chase, Sloane's shiny new secretary, had posted a picture of a lunchbox. Inside the box were organic black truffles I had specially flown in, paired with freshly seared French cod.

Every single dish was meticulously temperature-controlledthe undeniable masterpiece of a top-tier private chef. Chase's caption read:

[The perfect Queen saved me from cheap takeout. The stomachache knight finally gets a Michelin-star meal made with love.]

My brow furrowed. Why the hell was the lunch I prepared for Sloane in her secretary's hands? Before I could even process it, Bennett fired off another text.

[Check her feed.]

Frowning, I opened the app. One glance, and my vision swam. My jaw clenched so hard my teeth ground together.

Sloane, who hadn't posted a damn thing in over a year, had just uploaded a new story. The photo showed a cheap cup of spicy instant ramen and a hand holding a flimsy plastic fork. The caption:

[Such a nostalgic, familiar taste.]

That cold-blooded woman.

She threw away the meticulously crafted meal I made for her, handed it over to her little secretary, and shoved garbage down her own throat.

I went to dial her number, ready to demand what the hell was going on, when my phone vibrated. My mother-in-law. I hit accept. Before I could even bring the phone to my ear, her shrill complaints blasted through the speaker.

"Vance, what is wrong with you? Why didn't you pack Sloane her lunch today? You know damn well her stomach can't handle spicy food! How could you let her eat that instant ramen trash?"

"I did cook for her"

"Cooked? If you cooked, why is she eating ramen?" she cut me off, her voice dripping with venom. "I just called Sloane. She said you were too busy and completely forgot to prep her lunch."

"You hole up at home every day staring at your pathetic little stocks, without even a real job. And now, when you're supposed to serve her a simple meal, you half-ass it?"

I didn't have the patience for her screeching. I hung up right in her face. My thumb swiped over the screen, forwarding Chase's Instagram screenshot directly to her.

[See this? Your daughter fed my hard work to a dog.]

Total radio silence on her end.

I stared at the screen, my jaw locking into a tight line. Sloane, that ungrateful snake.

Not only did she give my lunch to her secretary, but she also publicly flirted with the toy boy online and blatantly lied to her mother about it.

She was the one playing house with her male secretary in the office, so why the hell was I the one getting dragged through the mud?

She knew spicy food ripped her stomach to shreds, yet she forced down that ramen anyway. She did it because she knew I'd always be the one pouring her hot water and rubbing her back when the pain hit. Well, if she missed that familiar taste so damn much, I'd give her exactly what she wanted.

Later that afternoon, a massive commercial delivery truck screeched to a halt right in front of the main entrance of the Sloane Corporation. The workers threw open the cargo doors and started piling boxes of bottom-shelf instant ramen right in the middle of the pristine corporate lobby.

The receptionist sprinted over, her heels clicking in a rapid staccato against the marble floor. "Stop, stop! You've got the wrong address!"

I stepped out from behind the truck. The moment the receptionist spotted me, she froze, immediately straightening her posture. "Mr. Vance!"

"It's the right address," I said, my voice dangerously calm. I pointed at the mountain of cheap cardboard boxes. "Get someone to haul all one hundred of these boxes straight up to Sloane's office."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and strode directly toward the private executive elevator.

Chapter 2

Inside the office, Sloane stared at the boxes of instant ramen being hauled in, her face an ugly shade of pale. "Vance, can you please stop throwing a tantrum? I just saw that his stomach was upset and he was still eating ramen, so I let him have the lunch you made for me."

"He and I are strictly boss and subordinate. There is absolutely nothing going on between us."

"Sloane, you don't have to literally roll around in bed together for it to be cheating. You know exactly what's going on in your own head," I said coldly. "You're soaking up this little office flirtation. You're addicted to that pathetic, worshipful look he gives you."

"There are hundreds of people in this company. If anyone else had a stomachache, would you spoon-feed them the lunch your husband made? We've been married for years. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending I don't know exactly how you operate."

I paused, crossing my arms. "The second you posted that story, your mother called to rip my head off. Tell me, what exactly did you feed her?"

The office door swung open. Chase walked in, dressed in fast-fashion ripped jeans and cheap distressed sneakers, balancing two Starbucks cups in his hands. He oozed that sickeningly sunny boy-next-door vibethe exact opposite of me. "Mr. Vance, your coffee."

I took the cup and, without missing a beat, hurled the scalding liquid straight onto his chest.

Chase flinched. But instead of stepping back to dodge the splash, his feet conveniently stumbled right into Sloane. Sloane immediately reached out to steady him. Her jaw locked, her lips pressing into a tight, defensive line.

"Vance, are you out of your damn mind?" Sloane snapped. "This is a corporate office, not our house! Nobody here is going to coddle your tantrums!"

I let out a dark scoff, eyes flicking over the two of them clinging to each other. "Hold onto him a little tighter. Put in a bit more effort, and maybe your Queen will actually file the divorce papers so her little stomachache knight can finally take my place."

Both of their faces flushed crimson. They hastily sprang apart.

I pointed sharply at Chase, whose shirt was now dripping with brown stains. "Sloane, do you honestly have the nerve to claim you don't treat him differently? What did he just call me? Mr. Vance?"

"Am I not the Executive Vice President of this company? Or did you already fire me behind my back? Did you give him permission to address me like some random visitor? Am I just taking up space around here?"

I glared at him. "Every executive in this company has to wear bespoke suits. He's dressed like a broke college kid waking up from a frat house hangover. What kind of cheap office roleplay is this?"

Sloane's gaze darted to the floor for a fraction of a second, her jaw tightening. "What the hell are you talking about?" she snapped, defensive. "He just hasn't had the time to buy proper work attire yet, so I allowed him to wear his own clothes for now. Stop being so paranoid."

"Sloane, he's been working here for almost a month. What kind of clothes take a month to buy? Even a braindead monkey could have managed a trip to the mall by now. I'm done dealing with this."

"Do whatever the hell you want."

I pointed toward the hallway, straight at the mountain of instant noodles. "Starting tomorrow, I am done cooking for you. Take all the time you need to get nostalgic over those hundred boxes of garbage. And when you run out, I'll restock them."

"Since you despise my cooking so much, you can live off this bottom-shelf trash from now on."

Sloane's expression twisted with impatience. "Will you stop being so unreasonable? When did I ever say I didn't like your cooking?"

"Oh, so you do like it?" I pulled a tupperware container out of my bag, popped the lid, and slammed it down onto her desk. "Eat up, then. Since you like it so much."

Chapter 3

Sloane slapped her palms flat against the desk. "Vance, have you lost your damn mind? What is the meaning of this? Why did you pack dog food?"

"It's the lunch I prepared for you. Don't you love feeding my hard work to the dog?" My gaze flicked over to Chase. "Stomachache knight, this is a special dinner prepared just for you."

"Eat up. What are you waiting for?"

Covered in brown coffee stains, Chase hid behind Sloane, squeezing out the fake, victimized grievance of a cheap reality TV show. Anyone watching would think the CEO was holding a gun to his head, forcing him to sign an indenture contract.

"Chase, if you actually have the ambition to become the CEO's husband, you should know something. These trust-fund girls might love a sunny boy-next-door, but they will never let a whining, useless parasite become their actual partner. If you just want to be a cheap toy whose rent is paid by a woman, then keep hiding behind her and acting pitiful."

"Let's see if your sugar mama will actually give up her business empire for you."

I stared at him with utter contempt. "If you want to drive me out and take my place, then show some actual backbone."

I shoved the tupperware of dog kibble forward, the plastic scraping against the wood. "Eat it. You eat this, and I guarantee Sloane will take your side against me. You'll be one step closer to becoming your Queen's official consort."

"Want to use a rich woman to jump social classes but still want to pretend you're independent? Then you'll only ever be a gigolo and a parasite sucking on a human ATM for the rest of your life."

Chase didn't absorb a single word. The back of his neck flushed a deep, ugly crimson as he stared at the floor. "Mr. Vance, I may just be a secretary, but that doesn't mean I lack dignity. You are assassinating my character."

"Sloane and I have never crossed any lines! You are just projecting your own toxic jealousy onto me!"

"Assassinating your character? If you don't own a mirror, look in a puddle." I let out a harsh scoff. "Never crossed any lines?"

"You actually have the nerve to spit that out? You're a secretary, yet you can't even dress yourself. Look at you. If you walked into a negotiation looking like that, do you think the clients would see a secretary?"

"Or a boy toy the boss brought along to show off?" I didn't stop there. "A secretary who eats his boss's lunch and then gloats about it online. Your job is to solve her problems, not create them."

"If you actually had an ounce of dignity, you'd hand in your resignation right now. Instead, you're standing here playing the martyr while hiding behind a woman's skirt like a coward."

"Enough!" Sloane's heel snapped forward, kicking the tupperware off the desk. "Vance, do not push your luck! This is my company, and he is my private secretary."

"What gives you the right to treat my people like this?"

Brown kibble exploded across the room, raining down on my suit.

I didn't flinch. I stood like a statue, ignoring the brown stains seeping into my suit jacket.

"Sloane, I am giving you two choices right now. One, you keep your little stomachache knight, and we sign the divorce papers. Two, you fire him immediately. I'll pretend none of this happened, and I will never bring it up again."

I met her eyes. "One or two. Make your choice."

Chapter 4

"Absolutely not!" Sloane answered without a second of hesitation. "The company has strict HR protocols. No one has the right to fire an employee without cause."

I gave a curt nod. "Fine. Understood."

Without another word, I stood up and strode straight toward the door.

Sloane chased after me, her fingernails biting into my forearm. "Vance, can you please stop making a scene!"

"Let go." I yanked my arm out of her grip. "Sloane, you made your choice. What the hell are you grabbing me for now?"

"It's the twenty-first century. Don't tell me you're planning to use your trust fund to keep a boy toy."

I sneered. "Are you planning to just hand him your secondary black card and move him into my master bedroom? Or are you going to rent him a Manhattan penthouse to keep him as your dirty little secret?"

"Vance, can you just listen to"

"Get out of my way."

The first thing I did when I got back to the house was wipe Sloane's fingerprints from the smart lock. The digital keypad beeped in cold confirmation. I fired off a single text.

[Don't bother coming home until you've finished reminiscing over those hundred boxes of ramen.]

Sloane actually called my bluff. She didn't come home that night.

Later that evening, Bennett sent me another text. Chase had posted a new Instagram story. The Van Cleef & Arpels watch strapped to his wrist was glaringly obvious. The caption:

[A one-of-a-kind consolation prize. A little blessing just for the knight.]

I might not have been on Van Cleef's ultra-exclusive VIP list today, but that didn't mean I wouldn't be tomorrow. One phone call and a few messages later, the Fifth Avenue Van Cleef VIP client manager was making absolute guarantees over the line.

"Mr. Vance, please don't worry. Even if I have to mobilize every elite private shopper across the US tonight, I will guarantee your entire limited-edition order is fulfilled."

The next morning, every single employee in the corporate office received a gift from Executive Vice President Vance. Every male employee got the exact same Van Cleef watch from Chase's post. Every female employee received a Van Cleef bracelet. The only condition for accepting the gift was that everyone had to post a photo on their social media with the exact same caption:

[An equal-opportunity corporate perk. A little blessing from the VP.]

Connecting the dots to Chase's flex from the night before, the entire office immediately turned their collective, disdainful gaze toward him. Several department heads who were fiercely loyal to me didn't hold back, publicly mocking him in the comment section of his own post.

[Others post rewards for their hard work, but you're flexing a dog tag bought with your dignity. Pathetic.]

[You can put a diamond collar on a stray, but it's still just a mutt.]

From that day on, the entire company systematically iced Chase out. A luxury gift worth a few thousand bucks was all it took to unify the front lines. Even the "bros" who used to chat him up at the water cooler now side-eyed him like he was nothing more than a cheap gold digger.

Chase blinked in confusion. When he first caught the CEO's favor, these people had looked at him with envy. But within hours, the whispers started. People openly gossiped as he walked by, calling him a delusional leech trying to bite off more than he could chew.

That watchthe one he thought was a special token of affection, the one that inflated his ego and made him think he was climbing the rankswas now a resounding slap across his face.

The luxury timepiece strapped to his wrist had officially become the very branding iron that cemented his mockery and total isolation in the corporate hierarchy.

Chapter 5

Bennett texted me the update. Chase had knocked on Sloane's office door looking like he was walking to the gallows, placing the luxury watch right on her desk.

"Ms. Sloane, I appreciate the gesture, but you need to take this back."

That night triggered the worst screaming match Sloane and I had ever had since our wedding.

She stormed into the house and, right in front of me, shattered the Renaissance marble sculpture in the foyer. Then, she grabbed our custom Swiss anniversary carriage clock and smashed it into pieces against the floor.

"Vance, I never realized you were this petty! You're actually jealous of a secretary? He's just a fresh college grad! Did you really have to go to such ridiculous lengths to target him?"

She glared at me. "I already told you, there is absolutely nothing going on between us! Why can't you just let him go?"

I stared at the wreckage scattered across the hardwood floor. My pulse didn't even spike. It was as if the shattered pieces had nothing to do with me.

"Nothing going on?" I met her gaze dead-on. "If his stomach hurt, you should have given him the day off to see a doctor. Instead, you used the lunch I made for you as a prop to flirt with your cheap toy."

"That watch is pocket change to you, but it's months of his salary. Out of everyone in that corporate office, why did you single him out to receive it?"

Sloane lifted her chin, her tone defensive. "It's because your insane paranoia humiliated him! I was worried he would start spreading rumors, so I bought that watch to clean up your mess."

"Clean up my mess? I'm a grown man. Do you really think I can't handle the consequences of my own actions? Sloane, stop acting like you're completely innocent."

"You think I don't know exactly what sick little game you're playing?"

I took a step forward. "You saw every single one of his posts. Are you going to look me in the eye and pretend you didn't know exactly what he was implying? You're soaking up this zero-consequences flirtation."

"You just want him to look at you with that pathetic, worshipful stare. You knew damn well I could see his posts. You knew it would piss me off. You knew defending him would cross the line."

"Yet you encouraged his little show, and now you're standing in our home, screaming at me for him."

"Having two men fight over youdoes that inflate your ego? Makes you feel incredibly desired, doesn't it?"

I pointed at the debris littering the floor. "This marble sculpture. My dad bought it at an Italian auction before we got married and placed it in the foyer. It was a Renaissance antique."

"Just restoring and shipping it took almost three months. That anniversary carriage clock you smashed. I flew straight to Switzerland to have a master watchmaker custom-build it, with our initials engraved right into the casing."

I looked at the final pieces of glass. "And that custom crystal display with our names on it. You didn't hesitate for a single second before stomping it into dust. Every single thing you destroyed today was something we got for our wedding."

"So tell me, what exactly is the message here?"

The color vanished from Sloane's cheeks. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. "Vance, listen to me"

"You don't need to explain. I get the message loud and clear."

I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the massive, heavy crystal centerpiece resting on the coffee table.

"I have a destructive streak. Get your lawyers ready for the divorce."

Chapter 6

By the time my in-laws rushed into the hospital room, my wounds were already bandaged. My head was wrapped in thick layers of white gauze.

Sloane's mother took a physical step back at the sight of me. "Vance, are you out of your damn mind? Who exactly are you trying to threaten by doing this to yourself? Can't you just sit down and talk like adults?"

"Do you really have to draw blood to make a point?"

I let out a harsh scoff. "Relax. I don't hit women, and I have zero intention of using this to blackmail your family."

"Then what the hell happened? Why did things escalate to this?"

I turned my head toward Sloane, who was aggressively picking at her manicured nails in the corner. "Aren't you going to explain to them why I decided to bash my own head in?"

Sloane kept her mouth shut, jerking her head away to stare at the blank wall.

"Fine. If you won't say it, I will." I pointed straight at my father-in-law, who had been standing silently by the door. "Actually, Mom, we got into a fight because of him."

"He's been hiding something from you."

My father-in-law's eye twitched. "Me? What could I possibly be hiding from your mother?"

"He recently met a woman in her forties. While you were out, he invited her over to the house for dinner. He even bought her luxury jewelry. I've caught them more than once."

"But he ordered me to keep my mouth shut. He swore up and down they were just 'good friends' and that absolutely nothing happened between them. When I threatened to tell you, he cursed me out for sticking my nose where it didn't belong."

My father-in-law's face contorted, a thick vein pulsing at his temple. "Vance, is this how you were raised? You're just going to stand here and completely fabricate lies about me in front of my wife?"

"Shut your mouth!" Sloane's mother shrieked, the sheer volume making everyone in the room flinch. "I knew it! I knew there was a reason you've been picking fights with me lately."

"You're actually keeping a little sidepiece behind my back!"

I quickly reached out to stop her. "Mom, calm down. Aside from buying her dinners and showering her with gifts, he really hasn't done anything else. They haven't taken it any further, I swear."

"Absolutely not!" Ugly red blotches crawled up her neck. "Having the thought is enough! Cheating is cheating."

"Does betraying a marriage seriously have categories between just sending flirty texts and booking a hotel room?"

"Mom, you have to think about the family reputation and our stock valuation. Are you really going to drag this into divorce court just because he sent a few texts to some escort? Besides, this is his first time making a mistake like this. Just forgive him."

She glared at me, eyes practically bulging out of her skull. "Forgive him? Why the hell should I forgive him? If I forgive him for this, that manipulative little homewrecker will be throwing my luggage out of our Beverly Hills mansion by tomorrow!"

My father-in-law was turning green. "Don't listen to his bullshit! There is no woman! He's completely playing you!"

Just as my mother-in-law opened her mouth to scream at him again, I nodded vigorously. "He's right. There is no other woman. I made the whole thing up."

Both of them froze, the yelling dying instantly in their throats. "What? You made it up?"

I gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Exactly. I made it all up. He doesn't know any other woman."

I pointed straight at Sloane, who looked like she was trying to melt into the hospital linoleum. "But the protagonist of that little story? That was your daughter."

Chapter 7

"Your daughter took the lunch I meticulously prepared for her and spoon-fed it to her secretary. She shoved cheap ramen down her own throat, and then turned around and bought that same secretary a new luxury watch. I told her to fire that cheap toy. Not only did she refuse, but she blatantly insisted on keeping him right by her side as her personal secretary."

I continued relentlessly. "I pulled a few strings at the office to make his life a little difficult, and your daughter completely turned on me. Just an hour ago, to get back at me for her little secretary, she came home and trashed our entire house. Every single item tied to our weddingshattered."

"So tell me, is that just a wild coincidence, or is she trying to send a very clear message?"

I looked at my mother-in-law, whose mouth hung slightly open, the arrogance stripped entirely from her face. "Mom, just hearing a hypothetical version of this happening to you was enough to send you off the deep end. But now that it's your daughter doing itand doing it worse than my little exampleyou aren't actually going to tell me to be the bigger person, are you?"

My mother-in-law's face sagged instantly, the deep wrinkles making her look exactly like a miserable Shar-Pei.

Even with my head wrapped in bloody gauze, Sloane flat-out refused to sign the divorce papers. "Vance, I know I handled things poorly," she said, her voice dropping into a desperate plea. "But I swear nothing like this will ever happen again. Just give me one more chance, okay?"

"Alright," I said coldly. "Tell me. How exactly are you going to fix this?"

Sloane hesitated for a second. "I'll transfer him to another department. He won't be my private secretary anymore. Is that enough?"

A dark scoff scraped my throat. I stood up without another word. "Goodbye, Sloane."

I pushed open the hospital room door and strode straight out into the hallway.

My mother-in-law scrambled after me, grabbing my arm. "Vance, why are you throwing such a tantrum? We can talk this out like adults."

I yanked my arm from her grip. "Talk it out? Talk what out? If my dad hired his little sidepiece as a live-in maid, do you think there'd be any room to 'talk it out'?"

I glared at her. "If she actually didn't care about her cheap toy, would she be trying this hard to keep him in her orbit? Mrs. Sloane, save the fake tears. Instead of standing here blocking my way, you'd better hurry back and ask that cheap toy if he can cough up tens of millions to plug the financial sinkhole in the Sloane Corporation."

"I'm done playing."

I turned on my heel and walked away. I hit the elevator button, and the heavy steel doors slid shut right before Sloane could catch up to me, abruptly cutting off her screaming