Don’t Wait, Chase the Wind

The day someone told me that Ethan Miller was cheating,

I was buried in work. I only gave a faint “oh” in response,

then went right back to preparing materials for the business meeting I had tomorrow.

The person next to me looked utterly shocked.

“Your husband is having an affair, and you’re not even concerned?”

Without even lifting my head, I replied calmly,

“He’s just a man. The world is full of them. If this one doesn’t work out, I’ll get another.”

“This deal in my hands is worth hundreds of millions—I can’t afford to lose it.”

…

My best friend Emily nearly choked on her own breath when she heard me.

“Sophia Carter, I swear, you’re unbelievable. What kind of woman reacts like you?

Your husband cheats, and you don’t even bat an eye?”

“Anyone else would’ve stormed over to catch him redhanded already.”

I gave a careless smile.

The truth was, I had known for a while that Ethan was involved with someone else.

He had complained more than once that I was a boring workaholic.

When we were dating, I’d be replying to clients’ messages.

On vacations, in hotel rooms, I’d still spend entire days in video conferences.

Even on our wedding day, while sitting in the makeup chair, I was hosting a meeting as they applied my bridal makeup.

He used to say that marrying me was like marrying a stone statue.

For a long time, even though it bothered him, Ethan endured it.

But after three years of marriage, he finally lost his patience.

He found himself a young girl on the side.

I’d been so busy that I hadn’t even had the time to look into it.

So when Emily brought the news straight to me, my hands paused midtask.

I looked up and asked,

“Where exactly did you say you saw Ethan cheating?”

Emily perked up instantly, pulling out her phone to show me some secretly taken photos.

“Ethan was with that girl at Disneyland California.”

“Look at them—arms linked, all loveydovey. I’d bet they’ve already slept together.”

“And see the way that girl is smirking straight at the camera? That’s obviously a message to you.”

“Oh, and guess where I found these pictures?” Emily’s voice was brimming with excitement.

“A blogger named Gardenia posted them. The moment I saw the man kneeling on one knee,

I recognized him instantly—that’s your husband.”

Emily grew more animated the more she talked.

I remembered how Ethan had asked me so many times before:

“Babe, don’t you want to be a princess at Disneyland for once?”

“You’d look stunning in a princess dress, and the photos would be amazing.

I’d post them on Instagram to show off my beautiful fairy wife.”

He had looked at me with such anticipation.

And how had I responded?

I was up all night, furiously typing out a business proposal.

Without even glancing at him, I muttered,

“Maybe later. I don’t have time for Disneyland right now.”

He mentioned it a few more times afterward,

but I brushed him off each time until eventually, he stopped asking.

Turns out, he went with someone else instead.

I glanced at the photo with a detached look.

There was Ethan, dressed in a sharp suit, kneeling on one knee with a solemn expression.

Before him stood a girl in a pink princess gown, while crowds cheered all around them.

It looked romantic, even pictureperfect—like a scene straight out of a fairytale love story.

I stared at that photo for a long time in silence.

Emily grew quiet as well, probably thinking I was about to cry.

Instead, I laughed.

“Well, maybe I owe him that much. Let the little girl give him what I couldn’t.”

I clicked my tongue twice.

“What a shame about that ring. I spent five million on our wedding band,

and now it’s just a free gift to that little girl.”

I put down my phone and went right back to organizing the documents I needed for tomorrow’s meeting.

Emily jumped up in disbelief.

“Sophia, you’ve completely lost it. Seriously—your husband is out there cheating and all you care about is a ring?”

I found her nagging tiresome, so I pushed her out of my study.

“Go binge your drama shows.”

For several days straight, I didn’t bother asking Ethan about anything.

On the third day, after closing a deal and finally kicking off my heels,

I was ready to collapse into bed when my secretary knocked on the door.

“Ms. Carter, there’s a girl outside asking to see you.”

At a Starbucks café, Chloe Adams sat across from me, one leg crossed over the other.

Her young face was painted with flawless makeup, her expression dripping with disdain.

“Sophia Carter, I’m sure you know who I am by now.”

She tossed several intimate photos onto the table.

“Ethan loves me.”

“We’ve been together for six months—ninetytwo dates, eightynine times in bed.

Twentyeight of those in hotels, and five in your own house.”

Chloe’s tone was triumphant, as if she were the rightful wife.

“Ethan told me himself he stopped loving you long ago.

If you have any sense, you’ll just sign the divorce papers and set both of you free.”

I didn’t react much.

Instead, a wave of exhaustion washed over me, making me want to sleep even more.

But since she was being so serious about this little “negotiation,” I figured I shouldn’t be too dismissive.

“Love?” I smiled faintly.

“How much do you think that’s worth? A couple of pennies?”

“You’re still too young, sweetheart.”

“If the only reason you invited me here was to talk about who loves who, I don’t have the time to waste.”

I stood up, giving her a confident smile.

“An hour of my time is worth millions. No man is worth that much.”

Her face darkened instantly.

She thought I was just putting on a façade, pretending to be calm.

“Sophia, I’ve seen women like you before,” she sneered.

“Women who’ve lost their man’s love but cling to their wealth and status, unwilling to give up the title of ‘Mrs. Miller.’

If you really don’t care about him, then why don’t you just file for divorce?”

So naïve. So childish.

I gave a cold laugh and turned back to her.

“Ever considered the possibility that he’s the one who won’t divorce me?”

Chloe froze, her face paling. She clenched her fists tightly.

“You’re lying!”

“Am I? You can always try it yourself and see.”

I pulled out a check for a million and slid it across the table.

“If you have what it takes to get him to sign those divorce papers, not only will I hand over the title of Mrs. Miller to you, this money is yours as well.”

Her eyes lit up, glittering with greed.

“You’d really be willing to divorce him?”

I nodded, my expression serious.

“More real than real gold.”

“If you can convince Ethan to sign, I’ll be grateful. That way, I’ll finally be free of this marriage and can switch men as casually as I like.”

Leaving her stunned in the café, I went home to finally get some rest.

And sure enough, the energy of youth didn’t disappoint.

My instincts hadn’t been wrong.

That very evening, Chloe really did show up in front of Ethan—

holding the divorce agreement in her hands, asking him to sign.

“Ethan, didn’t you say you don’t love that old woman anymore?”

“As long as you sign this, you’ll be free. Then I can marry you, be with you every day, and give you lots of babies. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Chloe looked at the man in front of her with eager eyes.

She thought I had lied, thought Ethan would sign without a second’s hesitation.

But the moment her words landed, Ethan’s face changed completely.

“You went to see Sophia?”

Chloe, oblivious to the storm brewing, nodded proudly.

“Of course. She told me the truth herself—she doesn’t love you either—ah! Ethan, what are you doing?”

Ethan’s face turned cold as he ripped the divorce agreement to shreds right in front of her.

And then, just like that, he turned on her.

“Who the hell do you think you are, showing up at Sophia’s side to cause trouble?”

His eyes narrowed, his whole demeanor dangerously magnetic.

“Listen carefully. Even if I divorced Sophia, you would never be my wife.”

Tears clung to Chloe’s lashes as she froze in shock.

This wasn’t the tender, doting Ethan she thought she knew.

This man, brimming with rage, was a stranger to her.

When Ethan stormed back into our place, he slammed the door so hard it rattled.

He ripped off his designer jacket—worth more than most people’s annual salary—and hurled it onto the floor.

“Sophia, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The room was pitch dark until he suddenly flicked on the lights, making me squint.

I instinctively raised a hand to shield my eyes.

A heartbeat later, he was on me—eyes bloodshot, breath heavy with alcohol.

He pinned me down on the bed, his kiss harsh, laced with anger and liquor.

“Sophia,” he rasped, biting down hard enough on my lip to draw blood.

“Did you tell Chloe you don’t love me?”

“Did you send her to push me into a divorce?”

“I swear, I’d like to cut you open just to see what your heart is made of—how can it be this cold?”

He made it hurt on purpose, and I couldn’t help but frown, shoving at him.

“Ethan, are you out of your damn mind?”

“Was Chloe not enough to satisfy you out there, so you came here to torment me?

If one isn’t enough, should I line up a few more for you?”

Fury burned in his eyes, but he only let out a bitter laugh.

“So if I ran off with some other girl, you’d still bury yourself in work and wouldn’t even look at me?”

I met his gaze, steady and calm, and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Even if you and Chloe did it right in front of me, I wouldn’t bat an eye.”

Ethan froze, then gave a hollow, selfmocking laugh.

He released me and stalked out to the balcony. The metallic click of a lighter followed.

His voice was cold, but weighed down with exhaustion.

“Sophia, do you honestly think we’re still a family?”

“Are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

His laugh was bitter, his eyes closing for a moment before he forced them open again.

“You’ve really made up your mind? You’re set on divorcing me?”

I nodded firmly. “Yes.”

“I admit I failed as a husband. So I don’t blame you for cheating. After the divorce, we’ll split everything fiftyfifty. You don’t have to walk away with nothing.”

Ethan turned back toward me, his face shadowed by the light behind him.

There was no more rage, no accusations—only a quiet sorrow.

“I just can’t figure it out,” he whispered. “We were so in love. How did it all come to this?”

“When I asked you to be a stayathome wife, you refused.”

“Was that the moment you had already planned your escape, throwing yourself into work so you could secure shares in the company?”

I stayed silent, and Ethan gave a bitter smile, as if resigning himself.

“If you love being a workaholic so much, then go live with your work.”

He slammed the door shut behind him.

I let out a dry laugh. Yes—why had I become a workaholic in the first place?

Because the playing field between men and women was never balanced.

Ethan only needed to show up for a morning meeting to secure his role as CEO.

Dividends fell into his lap every month, enough to drown in.

But me? I had to stay up all night writing proposals, compiling reports, personally attending endless dinners and networking events—giving everything I had just to hold the same weight in the company as he did.

And whose fault was that?

The man I’d loved for ten years, the husband I had chosen myself—was it that I didn’t want to spend time with him?

Why must a woman’s role at home always come at the cost of her career? I wasn’t willing to accept that.

If I had to choose, I would rather give up love than sacrifice my work.

I wiped away my tears, washed up quickly, and went right back to my laptop.

Men might abandon me, but work and money never would.

Ethan didn’t come home for an entire week, not even a single text.

Even the fragile peace we used to maintain—he couldn’t be bothered anymore.

Yet he still didn’t bring up divorce.

Even at the company’s weekly executive meetings, when our eyes met, Ethan avoided me, sometimes even deliberately stepping aside.

Everyone noticed the change.

My secretary whispered, “Ms. Carter, did you and Mr. Miller have another fight?”

I pressed my fingers to my temple.

“What makes you say that?”

She hesitated, then spoke.

“Two hours ago, Mr. Miller personally brought in an intern. Starting salary—fifty thousand.”

My eyes snapped open.

“What? An intern? Who? What’s her background?”

“She’s called Chloe Adams.”

My assistant glanced at me, looking guilty.

“Mr. Miller said Chloe reports only to him. She doesn’t answer to anyone else.”

I gave a wry smile. So it had come to this.

When I went to the break room for coffee, Chloe appeared with a smirk.

“Sophia, don’t think that just because I didn’t manage to make Ethan divorce you last time, you’ve won.”

“He’s already placed me in the company. He told me I’ll soon be the lady of this empire. You’d better pack your bags and prepare to get out.”

She sent me an audio file.

Ethan’s chuckle played through the speaker.

“Sophia has no femininity at all. Not cute in the slightest.

But you—you’re a little temptress. You’ve bewitched me completely.”

Their mingled breaths followed.

Chloe’s grin widened smugly.

“Face the truth, Sophia. You’re not young anymore, and your work can easily be replaced by me. If you’re smart, you’ll resign now before things get ugly. Otherwise, you’ll end up with nothing.”

She deliberately bumped my shoulder as she walked off.

My assistant looked at me anxiously.

“Ms. Carter, is what she said true?”

I smiled faintly. “Of course not.”

“All of this—I built with my own hands. Not even Ethan can take it away from me so easily.”

A few days later, Ethan attended a Tiffany & Co. gala.

Scrolling through the news feed, my hand froze on the video.

Just as I suspected—his date was Chloe.

The two of them walked side by side into the spotlight.

Even the reporters praised them as the perfect couple, “a match made in heaven.”

All those years we were married, Ethan never once agreed to endorse a jewelry brand.

Because I had no interest in jewelry, he invested all his time and energy into my business clients instead.

Whenever he saw me running around like a spinning top, exhausted from endless work,

he’d pull me into his arms from behind and whisper,

“Sophia, you don’t have to work this hard. With me here, even if you stayed home and did nothing, you’d still live comfortably.”

I would smile, shake my head, and push him away.

“Ethan, you don’t understand.”

Why should power and wealth only belong to men?

They savor the thrill of holding money and authority,

yet tell women from their high horses that chasing it isn’t necessary.

That day, I cupped Ethan’s chin and said with a teasing smile,

“How about this—why don’t you quit your job and be a fulltime househusband? I’ll support you.”

His smile froze instantly.

“A man living off a woman? I’d be laughed out of the industry.”

He never brought it up again.

Maybe we were mismatched from the start.

Our values were worlds apart, and choosing marriage had been a mistake from the very beginning.

And now, just because Chloe mentioned she liked a certain jewelry brand,

Ethan swallowed his pride and broke his longheld principles to appear in public with her.

This time, he must really be in love.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the mess in my mind.

My secretary had already sent over today’s schedule: I was to attend a dinner party,

where I would have the chance to meet Mrs. Johnson.

Winning her favor was the only way to secure Mr. Johnson’s cooperation.

But the moment I approached her, Mrs. Johnson doused me in wine, her face full of contempt.

“A woman as unscrupulous as you will never earn the Johnsons’ partnership.”

I chased after her.

“Mrs. Johnson, what do you mean by that?”

The wealthy lady, draped in crimson jewels, gave me a sharp laugh.

She flung a photo in my face.

“This girl, Chloe Adams, works under you, doesn’t she?”

“I thought you looked capable, respectable even. But to send a young intern to seduce my husband? Pathetic!”

“You’ll never get Mr. Johnson’s contract. I made him kneel all night on the hardwood floor for this.

As for the Miller Group, consider yourselves permanently blacklisted.”

By the time Mrs. Johnson swept away, I finally pieced it together.

Chloe had already approached him in private.

But Mrs. Johnson misunderstood, thinking it was my doing.

My dress clung cold and heavy against my skin, soaked with wine.

As I struggled to rise, my gown caught under my heel and I nearly toppled.

A man stepped forward, steadying me with a firm hand.

“Ms. Carter, are you alright?”

It was Daniel Hart, the client I had fought so hard to bring on board,

a man who truly appreciated my capabilities.

“I’m fine. Thank you, Mr. Hart.”

He smiled politely.

“Your clothes are wet. My secretary has a spare set on hand—why don’t you change into something dry?”

I accepted gratefully.

Daniel stayed to chat for a while, even invited me to dinner, and offered to introduce me to more clients.

“I’ll be sure to visit and thank you properly in a few days,” I said.

But when I caught the look in his eyes, I chose to draw the line, keeping a professional distance.

With the Johnsons no longer an option,

I had no choice but to throw all my energy back into the Silver Creek Project,

which I’d been managing for over two months.

When I went to the site for an inspection,

I ran into Chloe—

and the host was bowing and scraping, eagerly showing her around.