The Code That Ruined My Ex Chapter 2

Andre was hired as Jocelyn’s executive assistant.

I met him when he started. Top-tier university, young, good-looking, and very composed.

I didn’t think much of it. The company had over a hundred employees, half of them male. He wasn't the only sharp, attractive person in the office.

But I should have thought more of it.

After Andre arrived, Jocelyn got busier.

She used to be home before ten. Then it was eleven. Then midnight.

I asked her why she was so busy.

She said we were pushing for Series D, and the workload was intense.

I asked if I could help.

She said no, just focus on the technical side of things.

I believed her.

Three months after Andre started, the executive office held a team event. Jocelyn attended.

I asked her, “Since when do you join your assistant’s team happy hours?”

She said it wasn't a party, it was employee retention. As the boss, she should make an appearance.

I said fine.

Six months after Andre started, it was the annual gala. Jocelyn personally managed the planning. I had no part in it.

During the raffle, Andre won the grand prize—a ridiculously expensive Swiss chronograph. Jocelyn personally clasped it onto his wrist, and they posed for a picture.

She posted the photo of them together, Andre’s smile dazzling under the spotlight. The caption: “Our annual grand prize winner! Some people have all the luck!”

I sat in the audience, looking at the screen, a small, cold knot tightening in my stomach.

But I didn't say anything. I had too much I wanted to say, and I was afraid she would accuse me of being paranoid.

Eight months after Andre started, I found the evidence.

Jocelyn came home late that night and went straight into the shower. She left her phone on the coffee table.

I didn't mean to look. I really didn't.

One unread text. From Andre.

Miss you.

I stared at the screen for three seconds.

Then I put the phone back exactly where it was.

Jocelyn came out of the bathroom, picked up the phone, and glanced at it.

I asked her, “Who was that?”

“Work stuff,” she said.

“Oh.”

I didn't sleep that night.

The next morning, after Jocelyn left for the office, I opened the company’s login system.

As the Head of Technology, I had administrator access.

I pulled up Jocelyn’s and Andre’s access logs for the last three months.

Their attendance was perfectly synchronized. Jocelyn worked until midnight; Andre worked until midnight. Jocelyn worked on Saturday; Andre worked on Saturday.

Then I pulled the building’s key card entry system logs.

They often entered and left the building at the same time.

On multiple occasions, the logs showed Andre swiping his card to enter her private office.

At eleven p.m.

I put the phone down and took a deep breath.

I told myself it was for work.

I told myself not to be paranoid.

I told myself Jocelyn wasn't that person.

I told myself she was my wife.

We were family.

And family doesn't count the cost.

I kept silent.

One year after Andre started, I knew the truth.

That night, Jocelyn didn't come home, claiming she had a client dinner.

I opened the in-car GPS app.

Her car was parked outside a luxury high-rise on the West Side.

I’d been to that building once. Last year, Andre had invited some of the exec team to his place for a housewarming.

I didn't go inside.

I drove to the entrance and sat there for an hour. Just sat.

At one a.m., Jocelyn’s car pulled out. Andre was driving.

They were talking, and Jocelyn was laughing.

I watched from a distance, never getting out of my car.

The next morning, Jocelyn came home.

She said she’d had too much to drink at the client dinner and slept at the office to avoid a DUI.

I said, “Oh.”

She asked why I looked so tired.

I said I hadn't slept well.

She said, “We’ll go on a trip once the Series D is done. You need a break.”

I said fine.

After she left, I didn't cry.

I sat on the sofa for a long time.

Then I opened my laptop and started working.

Code doesn't betray you.

Code doesn't lie.

The code was written by me. It was mine.

For the next two months, I didn't mention the text or the apartment.

Jocelyn went on with her life—going to work, attending dinners, and not coming home.

I went on with mine—writing code, patching bugs, and optimizing the system.

We were pushing hard for Series D, and the workload was genuinely overwhelming. I worked thirty days straight on the system overhaul, sleeping four or five hours a night.

Jocelyn never once asked me if I was tired.

One night, at two a.m., a server failure threatened data loss. I spent three hours scrambling alone until five a.m., when I finally fixed it.

Jocelyn saw me asleep at my desk when she arrived that morning.

She nudged my shoulder. “Server fixed?”

I said yes.

“Good. I have an investor meeting soon. Can you pull together the updated technical performance metrics for me?”

I said fine.

She walked away.

She didn't ask if I’d eaten breakfast. She didn't ask if I was okay.

I was just a machine. Use me, then keep using me.

The Series D funding round closed after three months. A three-hundred-million-dollar valuation, with eighty million raised.

Jocelyn was ecstatic, doing three full turns in her office.

That evening, she surprisingly came home early and brought a bottle of expensive red wine.

I thought she had come to thank me.

She sat down, her expression serious.

“Nolan, I have something I need to tell you.”

I braced myself. Was she finally going to talk about the equity?

She said, “I’m pregnant.”

I paused for three seconds.

Then I laughed.

“Congratulations.”

Jocelyn looked surprised by my reaction. “You’re not angry?”

“Should I be?”

“I thought you would….”

“Cry? Cause a scene?” I stood up. “Jocelyn, you give yourself too much credit.”

She just stared at me.

I walked into the home office and locked the door.

I slept very well that night.

The next morning, I went to the office as usual.

Jocelyn didn't come in; Andre reportedly took her to her first OB-GYN appointment.

I sat at my desk, opened my laptop, and started compiling files.

Every line of code I’d written over the past five years.

Every technical document.

Every system architecture diagram.

Every algorithm model.

I reviewed them one by one.

Then I navigated to the U.S. Copyright Office website.

Software copyright registration.

The applicant can be an individual or a company.

I had never paid attention to this before.

But I was paying attention now.

I found the date I wrote the very first line of code: March 12, 2018.

The company was incorporated on April 5, 2018.

The core architecture, the core algorithms, and the core modules were all finished before the company was legally created.

Whose copyright did that code belong to?

Mine.

Because I had developed it as an individual, before I was an employee.

Jocelyn had only made a verbal request: “Help me write this.” She hadn't presented any contract.

I was her husband, not her employee. I wrote the code as a favor, not as a job.

The copyright for that code was legally mine.

I stayed in the office all day.

Jocelyn returned in the early evening. She looked surprised to see me at my desk.

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah, organizing some files.”

“What files?”

“Five years of my work product.”

She didn't press. She walked into her private office and shut the door.

An hour later, she summoned me.

Inside, along with Jocelyn, were the company’s lawyer and Andre.

Jocelyn pushed a document toward me.

“Nolan George, we’re getting a divorce. Here’s the settlement agreement.”

I picked it up. It was thick, seven or eight pages long.

I flipped through it.

The gist was: Irreconcilable differences, voluntary divorce. All company equity goes to the wife. All bank accounts go to the wife. Debts are assumed separately. The husband voluntarily waives all claims to marital property.

I was walking away with nothing.

It was written in black and white.

Andre looked on, his eyes holding pity mixed with a hint of undeniable smugness.

“Nolan, Jo’s been more than fair. You get to keep the condo and the car. Just sign the papers.”

I looked at him, then at Jocelyn.

She was sitting in her CEO chair, her expression cool and distant.

Five years.

From nothing to a three-hundred-million-dollar valuation. I was the one who built the infrastructure.

And now she wanted me to walk away empty-handed.

I laughed.

“Fine. I’ll sign.”

I picked up the pen and wrote my name.

Jocelyn looked surprised. “Aren’t you going to look at the terms?”

“No need.”

I pushed the agreement back to her.

“When are we filing the paperwork?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

I stood up, picked up my bag, and walked out of the office.

Andre called out behind me, “Nolan, you still have stuff on your desk!”

I didn’t turn back. “Keep it.”