After I delivered our twins, my husband tossed divorce papers onto my hospital bed. “Sign them. You’re too sloppy now—you embarrass a CEO like me.” With his arm around his secretary, he sneered, “She’s the one worthy to stand beside me.” I signed without hesitation. The next morning, his access card was deactivated. I stepped out of the Chairman’s office and finally told him the truth.

He drove his company-leased Aston Martin to the headquarters. He blasted music, speeding down the highway. He imagined the looks of envy from his colleagues when they realized he was single and powerful.

He pulled into the underground executive garage. He drove to his reserved spot, right next to the elevator.

There was a cone in it.

Mark frowned. He honked his horn. The parking attendant, an old man named Jerry who usually waved at him, was nowhere to be seen.

“Incompetent idiots,” Mark muttered. He parked in a visitor spot three rows back. “I’ll fire Jerry later.”

He grabbed his briefcase and walked to the private executive elevator. This elevator went straight to the 50th floor, the C-Suite. It required a special black key card.

Mark approached the scanner. He tapped his card.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP.

A harsh red light flashed on the panel. ACCESS DENIED.

Mark blinked. He wiped the card on his sleeve and tapped it again.

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP. ACCESS DENIED. CARD INVALID.

“What the hell?” Mark growled. “System glitch.”

He sighed aggressively and walked to the main lobby elevators. He would have to ride with the common employees. Humiliating, but he would yell at IT as soon as he got upstairs.

He walked into the grand lobby of Vance Global. It was a cathedral of glass and steel, bustling with hundreds of employees.

Mark marched toward the turnstiles. He tapped his card again.