Divorcing The CEO: Watch Me Shine

The freezing Atlantic water burned my lungs as the yacht sank, leaving me to fight for my life in the dark, churning waves. My husband, Eloy Jensen, watched me struggle, but his only concern was our guest, Kizzie Delaney.

Without a second of hesitation, Eloy ripped off his own life vest and shoved it onto Kizzie. He pried my fingers off his shirt, leaving me to drown, and swam toward the rescue boat with the woman he claimed he had to protect because her parents had once saved his life.

I was left to the mercy of the black depths, gasping for air as the cold swallowed me whole. When I finally woke up in a private hospital room, the betrayal only deepened. Eloy didn't ask if I was alive; he threw a maritime liability waiver at me, demanding I take the blame for the crash to protect the Jensen family’s reputation.

He treated me like a disposable asset, a mere placeholder, while he showered Kizzie with luxury and affection. I was his legal wife, yet he left me to die in the ocean just to save his precious "orphan."

How could a man I shared a bed with for three years turn his back on me so callously? Why was my life worth less than a convenient lie?

I looked at the divorce papers I had buried in a corporate compliance filing, feeling the cold weight of the metal cufflink in my pocket—a secret reminder of the powerful man who had pulled me from the sea that night. I picked up the pen and signed my name, ready to burn the Jensen empire to the ground.