Divorced the CEO, Destroyed His Empire

Marian insisted on coming along on this business trip with me and Brent.

I'm a light sleeper. There was no way I could handle the budget hostel the company booked.

So I paid for my own hotel rooma decent one, not cheap.

The moment she saw it, Marian wouldn't let it go. Begged and badgered me to swap rooms with her.

I turned her down politely.

Sorry, I can't sleep in a hostel, which is the whole reason I booked this room. You're welcome to ask someone else to switch with you.

The next morning, I woke up to Brent's dark expression.

Marian slept by the bridge last night. Alone. A few drifters almost got to her.

I stared at him. She had a hostel bed. Even if the soundproofing's bad, she could've spent a little money and gotten another room.

Brent nodded and said nothing more.

That evening at the client dinner, I was pushed drink after drink until I blacked out.

When I opened my eyes the next day, I was locked inside a hostel room with no way out.

Several men closed in around me.

I called out to Brent for help. He stood at the door and sneered.

Didn't you say hotel rooms are so easy to book? I set up the same arrangement Marian had that night. Now sit tight and stay the whole night.

The drifters crept closer, leering at me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed my phone. Hello, 911? I'm being held against my will at 303 Chandler Street Hostel. There are multiple men here trying to assault me.

The men burst out laughing.

Ha! Calling the cops? Go aheadlet's see them come get us!

Maybe check whether your call actually went through first. There's been a signal jammer in this room the whole time.

Brent Sanchez thought of everything. He knew you'd try to call for help.

That phone of yours is a useless brick right now. You can scream yourself hoarse and nobody's coming to save you!

I froze, then looked down at the screen. The call had never connected.

All the alcohol they'd forced on me the night before still pounded through my skull, my temples throbbing, the room tilting at the edges.

Brent Sanchez!

I bit down hard on my lip and looked toward the door.

I know you're there. Come out!

I'm here.

The door cracked open. Brent stood in the gap, backlit.

I couldn't make out his expression, but I could see the curl of contempt at the corner of his mouth.

What did you just say? Held against your will? Assault?

Georgina Fox, if I remember correctly, you studied law in college.

So tell me. Which part of what's happening in this room qualifies as unlawful?

The dim light inside blurred the line between day and night.

Why did you bring me here?

I stared at him. I'm your wife. Even if you feel sorry for Marian, you don't have to do this to me.

I thought back to the dinner table the night before.

Brent hadn't shielded me from the toasts the way he usually did. Instead, he let the clients pour drink after drink down my throat.

Even the glasses meant for Marian.

A few words from him, and those ended up in my stomach too.

Brent scoffed, walked over, and kicked the mattress on the floor.

What exactly am I doing to you?

This is a hostel. It's a normal business. Open to the public.

I locked the door, sure. But I'm your husband. What goes on between a husband and wifeyou think the cops are going to get involved?

He walked over to the drifters and clapped one of them on the shoulder.

These guys? They're guests staying here.

They came back to their own room. What evidence do you have that anyone was trying to assault you?

The drifters laughed, baring yellow teeth.

Please. Who'd want to harass you? With a face like that.

We're more worried you'll come after us!

I gripped my phone tighter, nausea rolling up from my stomach in waves.

Brent turned to face me. He was smiling, but his eyes held nothing but cold.

So what exactly are you going to tell the police? That I made you rough it for a night? Or that you're imagining things?

I had no evidence.

The drifters closed in slowly. They didn't touch me. They just stood there.

But they were close enough that my back was already flat against the wall.

Stay away from me.

We're not going anywhere, the bald one said, mouth splitting into a grin. Room's only so big. Where would we go?

A skinny one crouched by my feet, looked up at me, and made a show of sniffing the air.

You smell real nice, sweetheart. What perfume is that?

I shifted a step sideways. He followed.

Don't run off. We're not gonna do anything. Just talking.

Your husband's right outside the door. What could we possibly do?

The bald one flashed his teeth again, eyes sliding over me with open malice.

You know what your husband said to us out there?

He said

The skinny one dropped his voice, mimicking Brent's tone. She needs to be taught a lesson. Don't hold back. Make sure she remembers it.

He also said, the bald one chimed in, that you're too strong-headed out there, never leave him any face. And yesterday you went and bullied his poor fragile little secretary. Way too much.

That's why he hired us,

the scarred one said with a grin. To set his wife straight.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron. I didn't make a sound.

I didn't know if they were making it up.

Or if every word was true.

But they seemed to find my silence entertaining, watching me now with real interest.

Your husband's pretty generous, though,

the skinny one said. Paying us to hang around here a full day and night. Wasn't cheap.

The bald one played along. How much did he give you?

The skinny one grinned and held up two fingers.

Twenty thousand?

Each.

The bald one let out a low whistle. We hit the jackpot.

Sixty thousand. Three strange men locked in a room with his wife for a day and a night.

Because I'd spent my own money on a hotel room. A thousand a night. And wouldn't hand it over to his precious secretary.

So he spent all that just to trap me here. Just for revenge.

I finished the math in my head, and then I laughed.

Brent Sanchez, how generous of you.

I stared at him in the doorway. He was leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

Watching like it was a show that had nothing to do with him.

Brent,

I said. You really want to go through with this?

He didn't even look up. His phone had buzzed twice, and he was already hunched over it, thumbs flying.

I didn't have to guess who it was.

Marian.

Every text I ever sent him got back either a 1 or dead silence. If something was actually urgent, maybe he'd reply two hours later.

But Marian, his precious little secretary, got instant replies. Every single time.

Even on a business trip meant for just the two of us, he'd let Marian tag along without a second thought.

The thought made me laugh at myself.

Marian didn't want to stay at the hostel last night. She ran off and slept on the street. That's her own stupidity.

If you're holding a grudge because I refused to switch rooms with her,

shouldn't you be holding an even bigger one against yourself?

We followed you on a business trip, and you were too cheap to spring for a real hotel. You stuck us in a hostel.

Brent, why don't you lock yourself in there too? See how it feels firsthand.

Brent's patience snapped. He lifted his head and gave me a single cold look.

That mouth of yours never stops. You could spin anything to suit yourself.

You look down on Marian for staying at a hostel, but where do you get off booking a thousand-dollar-a-night hotel? That's Sanchez family money you're burning through.

I was so angry I laughed.

How did Brent Sanchez have the nerve to say something like that?

Brent, since the day we got married, I haven't spent a single cent of yours. If you don't believe me, go check the household accounts yourself

I don't need to check.

Brent cut me off with a cold laugh.

Georgina, that mouth of yours could twist anything.

Quit playing the victim out here. No matter what, today you're going to pay for what you did.

I honestly couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong.

All this because I didn't switch rooms for your little secretary last night?

Brent, did you get kicked in the head? If you're so considerate, why didn't you give her yours?

I told you I have trouble sleeping. I can't sleep in a hostel, so I paid out of my own pocket for a hotel room.

Is that a problem?

Brent kept sneering at me.

Oh, you're too delicate for a hostel? Everyone else managed just fine. It's company policy.

What makes you the exception?

He frowned, eyes cold. Georgina, when you act like this, people say I'm spoiling you. Using my position to play favorites.

What I did was to avoid that exact talk.

Besides, everyone already sees you as the future Mrs. Sanchez. If word gets out that you bully a junior secretary, that's bad for the company and bad for both of us.

I drew a deep breath.

Brent, let me out. Now.

Otherwise, you will regret this

Brent scoffed, looking me up and down with open contempt.

Make me regret it? Who do you think you are?

Georgina, you rode my connections to climb your way up in this company. Now you actually think you're some untouchable career woman?

Without me, you're nothing.

Every word landed like a needle straight into my chest.

Turns out when someone renders you completely speechless, you really do laugh out loud.

Brent, did you feed your conscience to the dogs before you said that?

I spent three years in the Legal Department. Three years, from associate all the way to Chief Legal Officer.

Every case I handled, every contract, every dispute is on file. What exactly did you do for me?

Did you ever put in a word? Pull a string? Or even once, when I was working until dawn, come pick me up?

That stopped him. For a second, Brent had nothing to say.

Every time I got off work late, he was busy elsewhere. Either entertaining clients, or off with his little secretary, Marian Cox.

She was always running a fever, or her cat was in heat, or her pipes had burst.

There was always some reason she needed to bother Brent.

And he never once turned her down.

It was always just a small thing, he figured. Easy enough to help.

All these years, I'd told myself to pick my battles. I never really took it to heart.

But this time was different.

To avenge some petty grudge for Marian, Brent had locked me inside that hostel. He'd crossed a line I would never forgive.

Georgina, don't you dare change the subject!

You're independent, you don't need anyone picking you up after work. But that doesn't mean every other girl is like you

Marian slept under a bridge last night. Have you even thought about how dangerous that was for her?

All I'm asking is for you to switch rooms. You're my wife. The card I gave you has no limit. Just book another room. Is that really so hard?

The hallway was quiet.

The hostel's old wooden door let out a faint creak.

I laughed out loud.

Why should I?

I lifted my head slowly, my eyes perfectly calm.

Why should I spend our moneyour shared marital propertyto book a room for Marian Cox? She's nothing to me.

And you say it so casually. 'The card I gave you.' Where is it? Did I ever take it?

Brent's face turned ugly.

You said people would accuse you of using your position for personal gain. That they'd say I was bullying some junior secretary. That it would hurt the company's reputation.

But locking me in this dump and surrounding me with strange men. That gets out, and it won't hurt the reputation?

Brent's face cycled between white and grey, irritation bleeding through his voice.

I can't out-argue you.

Georgina, today I just wanted to use this to disgust you.

Be grateful nothing happened to Marian that night. Otherwise, today wouldn't be as simple as paying some bums to scare you.

I won't let them touch you. But tonight, you stay here.

Until dawn.

You don't go anywhere.

He turned and left without a second's hesitation.

Brent Sanchez, don't you walk away!

I moved to follow, but the bald one stepped into my path.

Money taken, job to do. Twenty grand's twenty grand. You leave, and we don't get paid.

The smell hit me first: stale cigarettes and sweat, like something rotting out of mildewed clothes.

Hey, relax, pretty lady,

the skinny one said with a grin. We're just regular folks. What are we gonna do to you?

Your husband's just looking out for you. Letting you get a taste of real life.

The one with the scar rubbed his hands together, a filthy grin on his face.

Look at the fabric on that outfit. One touch and I'd owe half a year's wages, huh?

Don't worry, we wouldn't dare lay a finger on you. Just keeping you company, chatting all night long

As he spoke, his tongue dragged across his lips, and his hand shot toward my chest. My foot caught him first.

A cracklike bone snappingand then his scream.

Holy shit, she knows how to fight!

Why the hell didn't that guy warn us?

I swept my gaze over them, cold. Who's next?

They looked at each other. No one moved. Not one of them dared step forward again.

You're doing Brent Sanchez's dirty work for twenty thousand dollars. Selling your lives that cheap. You're idiots.

The bald one's grin shrank.

What's that supposed to mean?

I looked at them, one by one, ice in every glance.

Do you know who I am?

Silence.

Brent Sanchez is my husband. Whatever's between us is between us. He dragged you into it.

You really think this counts as helping?

Right now you're standing here, circling me. Under criminal law, that's group sexual assault.

That signal jammer killed my phone. That bumps unlawful detention up to an aggravated charge.

Brent Sanchez is the mastermind. Every one of you is an accomplice.

The scarred one pulled his hand back.

We didn't do anything!

They scrambled to distance themselves, panic written all over their faces.

Wait until you do, and it'll be too late.

My voice came out cold.

Right now you haven't laid a finger on me. Legally, that means you can still walk away clean. Go out that door on your own, and I'll pretend none of this happened.

But if you really want to be his accomplices, don't blame me for using every single thing I learned in law school to put you behind bars for the rest of your lives.

Not one of them was laughing anymore.

The skinny one suddenly looked panicked and turned toward the doorway.

Mr. Sanchez, thisthis isn't what you told us.

You said she was just some regular woman, that all we had to do was scare her a little.

She knows how to fight and she knows the law. We can't mess with her.

I turned to look tooBrent Sanchez, back again.

He was leaning against the doorframe. Then he smiled.

Georgina, I have to saythis is the first time I've noticed that mouth of yours is almost cute.

He straightened up from the doorframe.

Tossed a towel at them.

Since her mouth won't stop running, stuff it.

You know, Georgina?

Last time you were this loud was when you were singing at that karaoke lounge.

Marian and I were right next door. The second she heard your voice she went all tensepressed herself into me even harder.

Every word was a knife punched straight through my chest.

Brent Sanchez, I told you.

I ground the words through my teeth. I will make you regret this.

He patted my cheek, then pulled the door shut himself this time.

I said you stay here the whole night before you get let out. That's your punishment.

Georgina. You'll endure it.

That night lasted forever.

My earlier threats had done their job. The three drifters sat obediently off to the side and didn't dare bother me.

The next morning, the moment they were let out, they tripped over each other rushing to find Brent and collect their money.

Once the signal jammer was removed, my phone flooded with unread messages and missed calls.

One of them was from Assistant Lambert.

On the phone, he told me, Mr. Sanchez drove back himself. He took Secretary Cox with him. They're passing some tourist spot on the way, so the two of them are stopping to spend a couple days there. He even put in for time off.

He paused, sounding like he hated having to say the next part.

He also saidyou should buy your own train ticket back.

Got it.

I moved to put on my shoes, and a searing pain shot through my foot.

I pulled the shoe off. Someone had put thumbtacks inside it. Several of them.

One had already driven deep into the sole of my foot, and blood was seeping out.

I needed to get to a hospital.

That was when Marian sent me a video.

She was standing in front of the Disney castle in a princess dress, holding up a Mickey-shaped ice cream bar, smiling into the camera.

Georgina! Look, I'm already at Disney getting my photos. Have you made it back to the office yet?

She brought the ice cream to her lips and took a bite, tilting her head. Oh, I almost forgot.

Those thumbtacks that accidentally ended up in your shoesdid they go through your feet? Are you lying in a hospital bed right now?

She blinked.

Aw, that's really too bad. How could you be so careless? You don't even check your shoes before you put them on?

She let out a little laugh.

Georgina, you told me once, The only people who can destroy a marriage are the two people in it. No outsider has that kind of power.

I didn't argue with you at the time because I didn't want to embarrass you in front of all those people.

But now I want to tell youyou were wrong.

She crouched down and propped her phone on the stand in front of her.

The camera caught her full figure. White dress, white sneakers, draped in a men's jacket several sizes too large.

An outsider can be plenty capable.

And once an outsider has that kind of capability, the two people inside that marriage won't even know how they died.

She turned and walked away, took two steps, then glanced back at the camera with a little wave.

Oh, right. Mr. Sanchez asked me to pass along a message: buy your own train ticket home. Economy class will do. It's not like you're anyone important, right?

She'd tacked on a string of smug, taunting emojis at the end. My blood boiled.

I turned off the phone, closed my eyes, and let myself imagine exactly how they'd have to go down before I'd feel satisfied.

At the celebration banquet, Brent showed up with Marian at his side.

She blinked at me, all sweet smiles.

Georgina, aren't you surprised to see us here?

Mr. Sanchez and I really owe you for this project. We couldn't have won it without our little warm-up act.

She leaned into those last words. *Warm-up act.* Let them land.

Here. Let me toast you.

I didn't take the glass.

Her hand hung in midair, wine trembling faintly in the stemmed glass. Sensing the awkwardness, Marian let out a soft sigh and put on a wounded expression.

You don't think my toast is beneath you, do you? Well, I suppose that's fair. Look at who you are, and look at who I am.

She pulled the glass back and took a delicate sip herself.

I'll just drink alone, then.

She ran her tongue across her lipssavoring it, every last drop pure provocation.

This wine is lovely, by the way. I heard Mr. Sanchez brought it back from France himself. Only two bottles.

One was opened tonight to celebrate. The other

She paused, letting a sugary smile spread across her face.

He said he's saving it for when we celebrate later tonight. Just the two of us.

Brent walked over and clinked his glass against hers. Marian, a toast to you.

Every partnership, every contract, every signature on that dealmine. And the two of them had the shamelessness to waltz in and claim it at the celebration banquet.

But this time, I was going to show every person in that room that Georgina Fox was not someone you could push around.

I let out a cold laugh, turned away, and made a call.

Tell every investor they have ten minutes to pull their funding. If they don't, they're making an enemy of the Fox family.

I lifted my gaze slowly and added one more line.

And of me personally.