The Pushover Wife's Revenge

The year I married Brandon Hayes, his closest buddies placed bets on how long I would last. Three years went by. Brandon had an endless rotation of side chicks, and I quietly handled all the messy PR for his scandalous hookups. That lasted until his first love returned to the country. That was when I handed him the divorce papers. When Brandon cornered me, his eyes rimmed with red, demanding to know if I had ever loved him, I simply laughed. "It was just a wager, Mr. Hayes. Don't tell me you're a sore loser?" My family fell on hard times, and my marriage to Brandon was orchestrated entirely by my parents. They traded me away for a fifteen-million-dollar cash injection, saving the family business from going under. From that moment on, I became a total joke in the eyes of Brandon’s friends—the ultimate pushover. "Chloe Vance really has nerves of steel, doesn't she?" Brandon sneered, completely dismissive. "She’s just an overpriced maid my family bought! Boring to keep, but a waste to throw away." "Though, gotta give it to her, she’s damn good at cleaning up my messes." Right around the time he said that, I had just finished dealing with an aggressive paparazzi photographer and a D-list starlet, shelling out four million dollars to buy their silence. Once the NDA was signed, I forwarded the invoice straight to his assistant. It was past midnight when I finally got back to the penthouse. I washed up and lay down, but my phone screen immediately lit up. It was the same paparazzi guy from earlier. "Mrs. Hayes, your husband is meeting a gorgeous woman at the airport tonight!" He attached a photo. I opened it, and my chest tightened slightly. So, it was her. Hannah Collins was back—Brandon’s first love. In the picture, Brandon held her tightly against his chest, wrapping his coat around her. Only the side of her delicate, tear-streaked face was visible. They were clinging to each other, looking straight out of a classic lovers-reunited drama. Hannah was the only girlfriend Brandon had ever publicly acknowledged. Even my status as his wife was merely a sterile corporate press release; Brandon himself had never once acknowledged me to the world. As I stared at the photo, another notification popped up: "Mrs. Hayes, this one’s on the house. Mr. Hayes said there's no need to kill the story." I locked my phone and chuckled softly. Brandon always treated her differently. Even after three years of marriage, she was still the one he could never forget. Instead of burying it, I sold the exclusive rights to another tabloid for a cool hundred grand. By sunrise, Brandon and Hannah’s names were blowing up Twitter and trending everywhere. I turned my phone off and went to sleep. When the morning sunlight poured into the room, I switched my phone back on. The screen exploded with notifications. The viral gossip had infuriated the Hayes family. Within seconds, a call came in from the family estate. My mother-in-law, Victoria Hayes, sounded uncharacteristically harsh. "Chloe, come over for dinner tonight. We’re taking a family portrait." "Sure, Mom." Victoria wanted to sweep this under the rug, pretending that a pretty family photo could shut the gossip rags up. How pathetic. Never mind whether Brandon would even bother to show up. I glanced at Brandon’s friends' SnapChat group. His buddies were having a field day hyping up the reunion. "Hannah’s back! What’s Chloe gonna do now? She definitely can’t PR her way out of this one!" "What else can she do? Sit there and watch!" "Speaking of which, Brandon, when are you finally pulling the trigger on the divorce?" Seeing that, I wondered the exact same thing. "Brandon, when are you going to divorce me?" Brandon’s reply in the chat was curt and cold: "Throwing a welcome party for Hannah tonight. All of you better be there." How convenient. Dinner at the estate was tonight. I doubted Brandon would even show his face. I texted him: "Your mom said dinner at the estate tonight. Are you going?" He didn’t reply. I didn’t care. Instead, I called my lawyer to draft the divorce papers. Over our three-year marriage, Brandon had cheated more times than I could count, and I had kept receipts for every single one. Aside from the original fifteen million my parents took, I wanted forty percent of his net worth. More than enough for the rest of my life. My best friend, Sam, asked, "Have you really thought this through? You're actually divorcing him?" "Of course. He’s completely used up, and I don't want him anymore. Once I've got my money, I can have any man I want." Sam paused, stunned, before laughing. "Fair point. I'm glad you finally snapped out of it." I had known from day one that I was never Brandon’s favorite. When we first got married, I walked into the union with good intentions and genuine hope for our future. On our wedding night, things were sweet and passionate. But the very next day, Brandon paraded around town with an actress on his arm. I cried, I screamed, and I threw fits. All I got in return was his mockery: "Chloe, you're getting too greedy. You want my money and my heart? Life doesn't work that way."That was when I truly realized that my parents had sold me off for fifteen million dollars. To Brandon, I was nothing more than an expendable accessory. He chose me precisely because my family was beneath his, which meant he could walk all over me without consequence. That way, no matter how much he whored around, I wouldn't have the leverage to stop him. I put up a vicious fight once. The result? Brandon gave me the silent treatment for a month and launched an aggressive corporate squeeze on my family's business. My mother called me in tears, begging me to back down. Left with no choice, I swallowed my pride. Brandon sneered at my surrender. That was the exact moment I realized I was utterly worthless in his eyes. Later, I had an epiphany: Why bother? When Brandon trampled all over my dignity, did he ever stop to think this day would come? Once my mind cleared, I stopped crying, stopped picking fights, and completely shut down any emotional connection to him. If he came home, I played the polite host. If he stayed out, I enjoyed the peace and quiet. When he fooled around with rising starlets and club promoters, I stepped in and wiped his slate clean. Over the years, I became tight with the paparazzi. Every time a scandal broke, I bargained hard, pocketing a hefty finder's fee and skimming off the top. Turning my cheating husband into a personal cash cow—I was probably the first woman to pull that off. It was the only way I could keep my head held high despite the humiliation Brandon heaped onto me. I wasn’t a glutton for punishment, and I had no desire to be tied to him any longer. Now that his true love was back, walking away was the easiest decision of my life. After leaving my lawyer’s office, I took a deep breath and drove toward the Hayes estate. A black Porsche was parked right out front. It was Brandon’s car. He actually showed up? I was surprised. The second I pushed the front door open, an enraged voice boomed through the foyer! "Get on your knees right now!" I looked over and saw Brandon standing in the living room, facing a furious Victoria. Brandon had his trademark smirk on, utterly unfazed by his mother's rage. "What's the issue now?" "Brandon Hayes, did I not make myself crystal clear? As long as I'm breathing, that woman is never setting foot back here! She took my check and fled the country, and now she has the nerve to crawl back?!" Brandon’s face darkened instantly. "So you "did" force her out back then, didn't you?" "So what if I did?! A cheap girl like that isn't fit to step into this family! And you—plastering this scandal all over the internet! I turned a blind eye to your flings with little actresses, but this woman? Never!" Brandon let out a scoff, lit a cigarette, and crossed his legs casually. "Mom, you're crossing the line. Who I see is my business. She’s the new executive assistant at my firm. I’m just bringing in real talent." Victoria was trembling with fury. I stepped forward quickly. "Mom." "Chloe, you are completely useless!" I kept my head down and stayed quiet. Brandon glanced over at me with cold eyes. "Drop the act, both of you. What’s with the good-cop, bad-cop routine? She’s back, and I went to pick her up. Why turn this into a massive circus?" He tossed a glare my way. "And certain people can stop worrying their pretty little heads off." I gave an agreeable nod. "He's right. I won't be cleaning up your mess this time. After all, she’s not some random escort; she’s special." Brandon’s expression instantly soured. He glared at me, his gaze icy, but I didn't flinch. Victoria threw her hands up. "Both of you think your wings are fully grown now! Fine, ruin yourselves, see if I care! But you are going to finish this photoshoot with me today!" Right on cue, the butler stepped in. "Ma'am, the photographer is ready." Victoria nodded stiffly. "Once we take the photo, go fool around however you want. But if the press catches you with her again, just you wait!"Brandon sneered. "Take it yourselves. I'm not interested." "And don't wait up for dinner. I have a reservation." He turned on his heel to leave. Victoria yelled, outraged, "Brandon Hayes!" Brandon paused at the double doors and glanced back over his shoulder. "If you’re so bored, Mom, I can arrange an early retirement for you. I hear that private retreat in Switzerland is lovely this time of year." "Why don't you go spend a few months there?" Victoria's voice caught in her throat. Brandon gave me one last lingering, unreadable look before walking out. Once he was gone, Victoria's chest heaved with rage. She spat in my direction, "Useless! You can't even keep a leash on your own husband!" I nodded calmly. "You're right, I really can't. Which is why I won't be staying for dinner either, wouldn't want to ruin your appetite. Excuse me." I turned around and walked out. Victoria shrieked behind me, "What kind of attitude is that?!" I didn't care. If Brandon didn't give a damn, why should I break my back cleaning up his garbage? Yet, somehow, Victoria still managed to leak a heavily edited couple's photo of Brandon and me to the press, trying to squash the separation rumors. Later that evening, while having drinks with Sam, I saw the photo online and laughed bitterly. Right below the post, Brandon had commented from his verified account: "Photoshopped." The internet exploded in an instant. Sam slammed her drink on the table, cursing. "What a complete dickhead! He’s publicly humiliating you!" "Is his family just going to let him get away with that?" I shook my head. "They can't control him anymore." I looked up at her, my eyes gleaming. "Help me get even, will you?" "What do you have in mind?" "An eye for an eye." We shared a wicked grin. Within an hour, a photo of me laughing and chatting intimately with an extraordinarily handsome, sharp-featured guy at a luxury hotel lounge was leaked online. In the photo, I was smiling radiantly. We stayed talking until the early hours, and I even went back to his penthouse! Not to be outdone, Brandon was spotted kissing Hannah right outside a five-star hotel entrance. The comment sections went into absolute meltdown. "The Hayes couple is going blow for blow! Cheating wife versus the return of the first love!" Suddenly, the Hayes name was plastered all over every social media platform, and my family got dragged into the spotlight right along with them. My phone rang off the hook with frantic, furious calls from my parents. No matter how much they cursed at me, I let it go straight to voicemail, chilling at Sam’s place and watching the drama unfold. Finally, a message from Brandon popped up. I exhaled slowly. "What do you want?" I texted back. "We need to talk. The Grandview Hotel, Suite 1206. Get over here now." I agreed without hesitation, grabbed the signed divorce papers, and headed straight there. When I arrived, Hannah was the one who opened the door. She gave a faint smile and brushed her hair behind her ear. My eyes locked onto the ring resting on her finger. Noticing my gaze, Hannah smiled warmly, dripping with false innocence. "Chloe? Brandon is finishing up a conference call inside. Please, have a seat." I arched an eyebrow. "Unique ring." I had designed that ring myself right after we got married. Brandon told me he’d hand the sketches over to his company's jewelry division to craft a one-of-a-kind piece. And now, he had regifted my design to Hannah. She offered me a cup of coffee, her tone practically dripping with gloating condescension. "It was a gift from Brandon. I told him I couldn't accept it, but he insisted. Honestly, he shouldn't just be throwing rings around like this!" Her pathetic pick-me act was almost laughable. "It's just a ring. The design was flopping anyway, so giving it away to someone like you makes total sense." Her smile froze, and her eyes turned cold. "Chloe, you just got lucky three years ago when you took my place. But now that I'm back, it's time for you to step down." I slammed the divorce papers onto the coffee table. "If you have the guts, get Brandon to sign this. I'm already done." Seeing the divorce agreement, her eyes lit up. She lunged forward to grab it, but the inner door swung open, and Brandon walked out. Hannah instantly switched gears, her voice turning soft and tearful. "Chloe, Brandon and I are just friends! Please don't misunderstand, you can't just end your marriage over this!" Brandon looked at me, his face utterly thunderous. "Divorce? Chloe, did you finally find 'true love'?!" "Yeah," I looked right into his eyes. "I found someone who actually makes me feel something new." "Brandon, you're terrible in bed. Let's get a divorce."