9.99 Million Dollars for a Lie
Everyone was tense; even the break room conversations couldn't stray from IPO preparations.
But my husband, Chip Silva, did something at this crucial moment that took me completely by surprise.
He spent 9.99 million to hire a female influencer named Reese Sullivan, saying she would help promote our products and give our company's IPO an extra boost.
The first time I saw Reese in the meeting room, she was wearing a pink dress, her hair styled in fluffy curls, and spoke with a deliberately sweet tone.
"Mr. Silva, Ms. Donald, rest assured." She was holding a folder but didn't even open it to take a look.
"My followers trust me completely. This promotion will definitely sell fifty million worth of products!"
I felt uneasy right then. Fifty million isn't a small amount—could she really deliver on those "trusting followers" she kept mentioning?
But Chip Silva looked completely approving and even patted Reese Sullivan on the shoulder: "I trust you. Do a good job."
I wanted to question it, but Chip Silva stopped me with a look.
The product promotion live stream was scheduled for Wednesday night at 8 PM, and many people in the company were glued to their screens, waiting to see the results.
Chip and I sat in the office, staring at the computer screen together.
Reese was energetically promoting our company's products in front of the camera. At one moment, she picked up a skincare product and said, "Girls, I use this every day. My skin is so soft it practically glows." The next moment, she held a health supplement and said, "My parents both take this, and they're in great health."
But the order numbers at the bottom of the screen hardly moved.
By the time the livestream ended and the backend data came in, I could hardly believe my eyes.
The total sales were only two hundred dollars, and it was just one employee who bought a lipstick herself to support Reese Sullivan.
The meeting room fell completely silent, all eyes on Reese Sullivan.
Reese's face instantly went pale, her eyes quickly reddened, and tears began streaming down like broken beads.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Silva, I'm sorry everyone." She choked up, her voice breaking intermittently.
"I don't even know how it came to this. Maybe I just wasn't prepared enough this time and ended up disappointing everyone..."
Just as I was about to say something, Chip Silva stepped forward, handed Reese Sullivan a tissue, and patted her on the back to comfort her.
"It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes."
"You're new. It's inevitable to run into issues when you're just starting out with product promotion. Just gain more experience from here—we all support you."
"New?" I was stunned for a moment. Reese Sullivan had been active online for over two years—how could she still be considered new?
We spent 9.99 million hiring a "newcomer" to promote products, and in the end, only sold 200 dollars—and they still defend her like this?
I couldn't hold back my anger and said in front of everyone, "Chip Silva, this isn't about whether she's a newcomer."
"A 9.99 million collaboration fee and only 200 dollars in sales—that's not just a mistake anymore."
"Ms. Sullivan clearly exaggerated her abilities. We should sue her and recover our losses."
Reese cried even harder when she heard the word "sue," clutching Chip's sleeve and apologizing nonstop:
"Mr. Silva, I really didn't mean to do it. Please don't sue me—I can't afford to pay..."
Chip Silva frowned and looked back at me, his voice tinged with reproach: "Nancy Donald, aren't you going too far?"
"Reese Sullivan has already apologized, and she didn't do it on purpose. Why are you still holding on? Do you really want to blow this out of proportion?"
"Blow it out of proportion?" I could hardly believe my ears. "Chip, we spent 9.99 million!"
"That's the company's money, not our personal savings! The company is about to IPO. Aren't you worried this will hurt the IPO?"
"It won't hurt it," Chip said firmly. "I'll handle it, so stop making a fuss."
"Making a fuss?" Looking at this familiar yet strange man before me, my heart felt stabbed with needles.
We've worked so hard together all these years, building from a small studio to a company about to go public in an IPO. I thought our goals were aligned.
But now, he blames me for making an unreasonable fuss—all because of an outsider.
At that moment, something inside me seemed to break.
I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay calm:
"Chip Silva, if you think I'm making an unreasonable fuss, then there's nothing left to say. Let's get a divorce."
Chip Silva froze, clearly not expecting me to say those two words.
He frowned. "Nancy Donald, stop being ridiculous. Do you want a divorce over something so trivial?"
"Trivial?" I laughed, bitterness seeping through. "In your eyes, 9.99 million is trivial, and the company's interests are trivial."
"Then what is important? Reese Sullivan?"
Reese stood off to the side, head down, her shoulders trembling slightly, looking both wronged and innocent.
I couldn't bear to look at them anymore. I turned, grabbed my cell phone, and called the lawyer.
"Lawyer Dawson, please help me draft a divorce agreement. The sooner, the better."
After hanging up, I didn't look at Chip Silva or Reese Sullivan again and walked straight out of the meeting room.
The corridor lights were bright, but they couldn't pierce the darkness in my heart.
I remembered that long ago, Chip Silva had once told me that five years earlier, he sponsored a group of impoverished students on behalf of the company, saying those kids were hardworking and might contribute to the company someday.
At the time, I supported him, thinking it was a meaningful thing to do.
It wasn't until later that I accidentally discovered Reese Sullivan was actually one of those impoverished students.
And Chip Silva's care for her far exceeded the support he gave to the other sponsored students.
He personally sent Reese living expenses, helped her find part-time jobs, and even, after she graduated college, directly signed her to our company's influencer studio.
Before, I thought Chip was just being kindhearted, trying to help out this "promising" young woman.
But now it seems things aren't that simple.
The fact that he spent 9.99 million to have Reese promote products—perhaps from the very beginning he never expected her to sell much, and was only using that as an excuse to funnel money to her.
Thinking about this, my heart turned even colder.
It turned out that in his eyes, our seven-year relationship meant less than a female influencer he had supported.
The next morning, I went to the company to work as usual.
When I reached my office door, I found it was open.
I was puzzled because usually the administrative assistant cleans my office in advance, locks the door, and then opens it when I arrive.
Why would it be open today?
I pushed the door open and walked in; the sight before me left me stunned.
My desk was empty—my computer, files, and green plants were all gone.
The bookshelf against the wall was empty too; the books and ornaments I cherished had been moved somewhere I didn't know.
The entire office felt empty, with only the photo of Chip Silva and me hanging on the wall, standing out starkly.
I frowned and turned to find the Administrative Assistant.
The Administrative Assistant was a young woman who had graduated not long ago. Usually very careful with her work, her expression immediately changed when she saw me, and she avoided making eye contact.
"Ms. Donald, you... is there something you need from me?"
"What's going on in my office?" I tried to keep my tone calm. "Where did all my stuff go?"
The young girl bit her lip, hesitated for a long moment, then quietly said, "Ms. Donald, this... this is Mr. Silva's order."
"He said that from now on, this office is for Reese Sullivan, and your things have already been moved to the small office next door."
"For Reese Sullivan to use?" I repeated it, my heart tightening as if gripped by something. "Why didn't Chip Silva ever tell me about this?"
"Mr. Silva said... he thought you would definitely agree." The young girl's voice grew softer and softer.
"He also said that Reese Sullivan is now the company's key influencer under development and needs a better office environment."
I sneered. A key influencer under development? An influencer who cost 9.99 million but only sold 200 dollars worth?
Chip Silva really went to great lengths for Reese Sullivan, even trying to take over my office.
I took a deep breath, holding back my anger. "Where are my things now? Take me to see."
The small office next door was half the size of mine, with poor lighting, and its window faced the wall of the building next door.
My things were carelessly piled on the floor, and the computer sat on an old desk, the screen still dusty.
The green plant's leaves had wilted, clearly neglected since it was moved here yesterday.
Looking at this scene, a flood of hurt and anger suddenly welled up inside me.
When Chip Silva and I first started the company, conditions were much worse; we squeezed into a tiny rented room with no proper desk.
Back then, Chip promised me that once the company succeeded, he would give me the best office so I could work comfortably.
But now, with the company about to IPO, he's kicked me out to this tiny, shabby office and given the good one to another woman.
Seven years of feelings—what do they really mean to him?
I crouched down and began gathering the things on the floor.
The administrative assistant stood off to the side, wanting to help but hesitant, whispering, "Ms. Donald, shall I help you pack?"
"No need," I shook my head, my voice hoarse. "I'll do it myself."
I carefully placed the documents into folders and cautiously packed the ornaments into boxes.
Every time I pack something away, it's like reliving a memory tied to Chip Silva.
That green plant was purchased by Chip Silva when we first moved into this office building—he said it would bring some life to my office.
That notebook was a birthday gift from Chip Silva, with his blessings written inside.
And that photo was taken on our first wedding anniversary, showing us smiling so happily.
But now, all these things are tossed aside carelessly, just like our relationship—he abandoned it without a second thought.
Halfway through packing up, Chip Silva showed up.
He saw me packing and frowned, "Nancy Donald, what are you doing?"
"Packing up." I didn't even look up and kept at it.
"Since you gave my office to Reese Sullivan, I'll move to the small office so I won't get in your way."
"Nancy, can you please stop talking like that?" Chip walked over and tried to take my hand.
"Moving you to the small office is only temporary. Once the company grows, I'll get you a better one."
"Just temporarily?" I looked up, locking eyes with him. "Chip Silva, do you really think I would still believe you?"
"You spent 9.99 million hiring Reese Sullivan for product promotion, stood up for her, and now you've even handed my office over to her. When you were doing all this, did you ever think about me? Did you ever think about our relationship?"
Chip Silva's eyes flickered briefly as he avoided my gaze. "I just think Reese is talented and wanted to give her more opportunities."
"Nancy, can we not argue over such trivial matters? The IPO is right around the corner; we should be working together."
"Trivial?" I laughed, tears almost spilling out, "So in your eyes, all the hurt I've suffered is just a trivial matter?"
"Chip Silva, I don't think you're trying to train her at all—you like her, don't you?"
Chip Silva's face changed immediately, and he raised his voice: "Nancy Donald! Don't talk nonsense! Reese Sullivan and I are just boss and employee!"
"Boss and employee?" I looked at him, "Which boss spends 9.99 million just to teach an employee a lesson?"
"Which boss would snatch his wife's office for an employee? Chip Silva, do you dare say you have no other intentions toward her?"
Chip Silva was left speechless by my questions, only frowning with a dark expression.
I didn't want to argue with him anymore and kept packing my things.
"I've already had the lawyer draft the Divorce Agreement," I said as I packed my things into the suitcase. "Once the agreement is ready, I'll notify you to sign it."
"I'll divide the company shares according to the law. As for everything else, I want nothing."
"Nancy, do you really have to do this?" Chip Silva's voice carried a hint of pleading, "Our seven years together—are you just going to let it end like this?"
"You were the one who gave up on our relationship first." I stopped what I was doing and looked at him.
"From the moment you decided to spend 9.99 million hiring Reese Sullivan for product promotion, and from the moment you defended her while blaming me, our relationship was already over."
After saying that, I picked up the packed box and turned to leave the small office.
Chip Silva stood there without stopping me.
I walked out of the company building; the sunlight was blinding, but I felt a chill all over my body.
When I got home that night, I thought Chip Silva wouldn't be coming back.
But to my surprise, right after I finished showering, I caught the scent coming from the kitchen.
I walked to the kitchen doorway and saw Chip Silva wearing an apron, cooking noodles.
He saw me and gave a faint, ingratiating smile. "Nancy, I made your favorite tomato and egg noodles—they'll be ready soon."
My heart fluttered for a moment.
Before, when I worked late, Chip Silva would also make me tomato and egg noodles. Back then, I thought it was the most delicious thing in the world.
But now, seeing him like this, all I felt was disgust.
"I'm not eating," I said, turning to leave, but Chip Silva grabbed my hand.
"Nancy, please don't be like this, okay?" His tone was soft.
"I know I was wrong. I shouldn't have handed the office over to Reese Sullivan without discussing it with you, nor should I have defended her and blamed you."
"Give me one more chance. I promise I'll never do this again."
I looked into his eyes, full of pleading, but I no longer felt what I used to.
"Chip Silva, it's too late," I gently pushed his hand away. "Some things, when done wrong, are just wrong. There's no chance to fix them."
At that moment, the noodles in the pot were ready.
Chip Silva scooped the noodles and brought them to the table: "Nancy, even if you don't forgive me, please eat something. You must be exhausted from packing today."
I looked at the noodles on the table—tomato and egg noodles—but they had the one thing I hated most: cilantro.
I remembered telling Chip countless times that I don't like cilantro because it makes me nauseous.
Yet now, he had actually put cilantro in the noodles he cooked for me.
Suddenly, I recalled Reese Sullivan saying during a livestream that she loved cilantro and always added some no matter what she was eating.
It turned out that the bowl of noodles he cooked wasn't for me at all; it was made to suit Reese Sullivan's taste.
The last bit of hope in my heart was completely shattered.
"Chip Silva, you don't need to waste your efforts anymore." I looked at him, my tone calm but resolute.
"I will give you the divorce agreement as soon as possible; you'd better start preparing."
After speaking, I turned and walked into the bedroom, closed the door, shutting both Chip Silva and that bowl of noodles filled with irony out.
The company was going to hold a charity banquet, supposedly to give back to society, but in reality, it was to boost the company's visibility before the IPO and attract more collaboration opportunities.
As the co-founder of the company, securing sponsorships and inviting guests naturally fell onto my shoulders.
I contacted many longtime business friends, and out of respect for me, they all promised to attend the banquet.
The day before the banquet, I was so busy confirming the guest list and organizing the event schedule that I didn't even have time to take a sip of water.
That afternoon, while I was in the office double-checking the schedule, Reese Sullivan suddenly walked in.
She wore a white dress, with flawless makeup, carrying a makeup bag in her hand.
"Ms. Donald," she approached me with a sweet, cloying smile. "I heard you hired the best makeup artist to get you ready for the Banquet tomorrow, right?"
I glanced at her but said nothing, returning to my work.
Reese Sullivan didn't seem to mind and continued, "Ms. Donald, since I'll be speaking at the Banquet tomorrow, I also need a good makeup artist to help me."
"Could your makeup artist help me first?"
"You're so graceful that you look great without makeup, but I'm different. If my makeup isn't done well, it would embarrass the company."
I put down my pen and looked at her: "Ms. Sullivan, my makeup artist was booked half a month ago, and we've already scheduled for tomorrow."
"If you need a makeup artist, you can book one yourself. The company will reimburse the cost."
"But it's too late to book now," Reese frowned, looking troubled. "All the good makeup artists are already fully booked."
"Ms. Donald, please help me just this once. I promise I won't trouble you again."
"I can't help you," I said coldly. "I need makeup tomorrow too, and I've already confirmed with my makeup artist. It can't be changed last minute."
Reese Sullivan's expression changed instantly; her smile vanished, and her tone carried a hint of displeasure: "Ms. Donald, why are you being so stingy?"
"It's just borrowing a makeup artist for a bit, isn't it? Do you really have to be so petty about it?"
"Besides, Mr. Silva calls all the shots in the company now. If you offend me, it won't benefit you."
I didn't expect Reese Sullivan to say something like that — first pretending to be pitiful and begging for help, then threatening me when refused.
I sneered coldly, "Ms. Sullivan, the company was founded by both Chip Silva and me, not him alone."
"Whether I choose to care is my business, not yours. And as for offending you, I'm not afraid at all."
Reese Sullivan's face flushed and paled repeatedly as I spoke; she stomped her foot, turned, and walked out, deliberately slamming the door behind her.
I watched her walk away, shook my head, and returned to my work.
I thought that was the end of it, but unexpectedly, Reese caused me trouble again at the banquet.
The banquet was held at a five-star hotel in the city center, with many business elites and media reporters attending.
I was dressed in a sleek black evening gown, mingling among the guests, exchanging pleasantries and business cards, extremely busy.
Chip Silva stayed by Reese Sullivan's side the entire time, introducing her to the guests. The two standing together looked quite "compatible."
Halfway through the banquet, the host stepped onto the stage and asked Chip Silva and Reese Sullivan to come up and introduce the company's new business direction.
Chip took Reese's hand as they walked onto the stage. Reese held the microphone and began speaking, but only said some meaningless words.
She never mentioned the core plan of the new business. Instead, she kept casting coquettish looks at Chip in the audience, her tone sickeningly sweet:
"Actually, everything I am today is thanks to Mr. Silva's constant encouragement and support."
"Without him, I don't even know where I'd be right now, struggling and clawing my way through some forgotten corner."
The guests in the audience exchanged glances, some whispering, "Why did this business presentation turn into a love confession?"
"That woman must have a special connection with Mr. Silva, right?"
I stood in the crowd, my fingertips clenched white with tension.
Rather than feeling awkward, Chip Silva smiled and nodded at Reese Sullivan, the tenderness in his eyes something I had never seen before.
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