Ryan and I met at university. He was charming, but he couldn’t have graduated without me. I was the one who proofread his papers, taught marketing principles, and occasionally completed the projects myself. I told myself it did not matter. We were a team.
We married at 27, had two beautiful children, and I left my career to raise them.
Ryan’s job in marketing kept him busy, and since I had experience in the industry, I assisted him whenever he needed it.
Writing reports, creating presentations, and even devising campaign plans.
At first, I was excited to meet his colleagues. I inquired about business activities and recommended that we attend together. But Ryan always had an excuse.
Until that Sunday afternoon at the park.
I was watching our children chase each other through the lawn when a luxury woman appeared.
“You must be Ryan’s sister,” she said, offering a hand.
“I’m Evelyn, CEO of the company where your brother works. He’s one of our best marketers! He speaks so highly of you and your nephews.”
I inhaled sharply. “Evelyn, I need to show you something.”
I took out my phone and scrolled to a photo from our wedding day. Then another image of Ryan cradling our baby boy. Then one more photo of our family, all four of us beaming at the camera.
She gazed at the images and then back at me, her expression changing from confusion to something else. Understanding. Sh0ck.
Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “Destiny, come with me. Let’s talk.”
My children ate muffins snack the café, while Evelyn and I sat quietly in a corner. I let everything flow onto steaming mugs of coffee.
“I was a marketing strategist before I had kids,” I began, my fingers tightening around the cup. “I left my job to be a stay-at-home mom, but I still loved the work. So when Ryan needed help, I gave it to him. I wrote reports, developed campaigns, and designed presentations. I didn’t think twice—I thought we were a team.”
She leaned forward, her eyes shining. “Proof, Destiny. Do you have proof?”
Yes. I did.
That night, once the kids were asleep, I sat on the living room floor, surrounded by documents, folders, and my laptop.
Every campaign. Each report. Every idea.
All of it is mine.
Monday morning, I entered Evelyn’s office, my heart pounding in my chest.
Evelyn glanced through the documents, raising her eyebrows with each page. “You’re talented. Really talented. Ryan’s been passing this off as his work?”
A slow, knowing smile appeared on her face. “Would you like to be our special guest at the gala?”
Then, I smiled. “Let’s do it.”
The night before the gala, I stood behind the stage, my heart beating.
Ryan took the stage, displaying a confident grin as he prepared for his big moment.
“Good evening, everyone,” Ryan began, gripping the microphone. “Tonight, I’m proud to present—”
Instead of his professional marketing pitch, pictures began to appear: our wedding day, me in my white gown, Ryan kissing me. Our family pictures, vacations, and our kids smiling in his arms.
Then Evelyn walked onto the stage, her shoes clicking on the floor with purpose.
“No prank, Ryan,” she said coolly, gesturing toward the screen. “Just an introduction to our newest hire—a highly qualified marketer.”
“Dear colleagues, please welcome Destiny. She is Ryan’s wife.”
As the murmuring in the audience became louder, I went up beside Evelyn, but my attention was drawn to only one individual.
I took a deep breath, keeping my hands calm while my heart hammered. “Ryan, is there anything you want to say to me or to your colleagues?”
Ryan turned and walked away without saying anything else.
His job was finished by the following morning.
And in his place? Me.
For years, I believed I had a powerful ally beside me. Someone who valued me and recognized my worth.
But Ryan was not an ally. He was a parasite, exploiting my talent for his own gain.
