angus thongs and perfect snogging

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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The smell of new leather and the glare of the white light of the open space hurt her eyes. Sophie stopped in front of the glass door of Magnus's office. The space, usually a refuge of silence and authority, vibrated with a tension she did not yet understand. Her husband's deep voice resonated, sharp, almost aggressive.

- I don't want to hear that. It will be as I have decided.

Another voice rose, higher-pitched, incisive, and exuding an almost casual assurance. A woman.

- You can play the tyrant if you want, Magnus. But without me, your little house of cards collapses. So, let's calm down and negotiate.

Sophie advanced slowly, slipping into the shadows. The silhouette of the woman was outlined behind the glass. Slender, upright posture. A red dress. Sophie felt dizzy. The scene before her seemed unreal, like a painting to which she did not belong.

Magnus, his fists clenched on his desk, listened in silence, an expression she didn't recognize on his face. A mixture of frustration and... respect?

- We'll talk about it again tomorrow, he finally said.

The woman gave him a cold smile, turned around, and left the room with slow, calculated steps.

Sophie didn't have time to hide. Their eyes met. The woman stopped for a moment, examined her, then continued on her way as if she didn't exist.

Magnus straightened up when he saw her enter.

- Sophie, what are you doing here?

She ignored his question, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the door the woman had just exited through.

- Who was it?

He sighed, exasperated, as if the answer didn't matter.

- Roxanne. A potential collaborator. Nothing out of the ordinary.

- Nothing out of the ordinary? Are you kidding?

Magnus walked around his desk, trying to calm things down, but Sophie took a step back.

- Why are you always in the drama? he got annoyed. Roxanne is going to work with me on sensitive projects, period.

She felt anger rising.

- And you're telling me this like I have no say in this? Like I don't exist?

Magnus raised his hands, a gesture he always used to end a discussion.

- We'll talk about it tonight, okay? Not here, not now.

But that night the words were even worse.

They dined in silence, the clinking of cutlery against plates punctuating a palpable unease. Sophie wasn't hungry, but she mechanically cut her meat, her eyes fixed on her husband.

Magnus finally put down his fork.

- I wanted to wait for a better time to tell you, but given your behavior today... Roxanne accepted the job.

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