/0/84401/coverbig.jpg?v=cd4cf00dd4118d521ca0b153c18e34b6)
My phone buzzed, pulling me from millions in quarterly reports. It was Instagram. I found a picture of my wife' s intern, Ethan, smirking, wearing my grandfather' s prized Rolex – a priceless family heirloom. His caption: "A huge thank you to the most generous boss and mentor, Sabrina Anderson, for this incredible gift." Rage, cold and sharp, washed over me. I messaged her, "Where is my watch?" Her reply: "I loaned it to Ethan. Relax, Nate. Don't be so dramatic. It's just a watch." "Just a watch." Her words shattered everything. All the sacrifices, the empire I built for her. My anger turned to icy resolve. She didn't just disrespect the watch; she disrespected my family, my history, and me. I made a call. Her custom Porsche, impounded. Her designer wardrobe, shredded. There was no turning back. This wasn't just about a watch; it was about reclaiming my life.