Chapter 2 · Livestreaming My Husband Flirting with My Intern

Giana: [Forget it. It's too expensive. Once you deal with that old woman, we'll have everything we want.]

The words "old woman" were magnified dozens of times on the projector, hitting the wall like three sharp slaps.

It felt like those words slapped me across the face, too.

Anna Booth, sitting next to me, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.

She looked from the screen to me, stunned.

I kept my face blank, even picked up the mouse, and slowly scrolled up through the chat history.

Page after page, all that dirty flirting and malicious plotting were unfolded like a slow-motion movie for everyone in the office to see.

They were talking about which hot spring hotel to hit up for the weekend.

They were making fun of my new clothes, saying they looked like something a grandma would wear.

They were plotting how to move all our community property.

Matthew sent a photo of our house, showing the study.

He texted: [Once she's gone, this room's gonna be your walk-in closet.]

Giana replied: [I like the bay window in the master bedroom better.]

Matthew: [It's all yours.]

I designed that bay window in the master bedroom. I used to sit there, sipping coffee, waiting for him to come home.

Now, Giana said she liked it.

And Matthew said, [It's all yours.]

My fingers were a little cold, but my hand on the mouse stayed steady.

I could hear the office filled with hushed, tense whispers.

"Oh my god, is that Matthew?"

"Giana? She always seemed so innocent."

"Jeez, Calliope got screwed over."

"Shh, keep it down."

Someone in the office couldn't hold back and let out a quick snicker.

That laugh was like a signal.

Giana finally realized something was off.

The office was so quiet that it was almost creepy.

She looked up, bewildered, scanning the room.

Everyone was staring at her with a strange blend of sympathy, disdain, and that unmistakable look of people watching a train wreck.

She frowned, looking a bit lost.

She even looked my way, flashing me an innocent, questioning smile.

She said, "Callie, what's going on? Why isn't anyone working?"

Her voice was crisp and sweet.

I didn't answer her.

I kept scrolling up with the mouse wheel.

I scrolled back to the day they first went to the hotel.

Matthew sent a photo of the key to room number 1314.

He texted: [Babe, I'm here. Wait for me, I'll be there soon.]

Giana's body stiffened the moment she caught sight of the wall.

She saw that massive, all-too-familiar chat interface.

Her face instantly drained of all color.

Giana's expression froze.

The smile lingering at the corner of her mouth stayed, stiff on her pale face, making her look strangely absurd.

Her eyes were locked on the projection on the wall, her pupils contracting with fear.

The office was dead silent.

The only sound was the projector's fan whirring, like it was background noise for this mess.

I stood up.

My high heels tapped sharply against the floor, each step slicing through the silence.

Every tap landed like a blow on Giana's heart.

I walked over to her desk.

She was still twisted around, frozen mid-turn, her whole body locked up like a statue.

Her WhatsApp chat window was still open on her screen for everyone to see.

She'd typed out a line, her fingers still hovering over the keyboard, but she hadn't hit send. [Honey, you're the best.]

The word "Honey" on the screen was pathetic, almost a joke.

I stopped in front of Giana, towering over her.

I could smell that familiar perfume on her, the same scent that lingered on Matthew's coat when he came home last night.

I smiled, my voice soft but clear enough to cut through the silence. "He said he missed you."

I reached out and tapped the huge projection on the wall.

"He also said he'd buy you a necklace and give you my bay window," I said. "Feeling touched?"

Giana's lips were trembling so hard that she couldn't say a thing.

Her eyes were wide with terror, shame, and a desperate plea for mercy.

She looked like a fish out of water, gasping for air, her mouth opening and closing, but not a sound came out.

I leaned in, my voice barely above a whisper, just for her to hear.

I said, "I helped you land a permanent spot here, showed you how to put together proposals, and this is how you pay me back?"

Chapter 2

Giana: [Forget it. It's too expensive. Once you deal with that old woman, we'll have everything we want.]

The words "old woman" were magnified dozens of times on the projector, hitting the wall like three sharp slaps.

It felt like those words slapped me across the face, too.

Anna Booth, sitting next to me, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.

She looked from the screen to me, stunned.

I kept my face blank, even picked up the mouse, and slowly scrolled up through the chat history.

Page after page, all that dirty flirting and malicious plotting were unfolded like a slow-motion movie for everyone in the office to see.

They were talking about which hot spring hotel to hit up for the weekend.

They were making fun of my new clothes, saying they looked like something a grandma would wear.

They were plotting how to move all our community property.

Matthew sent a photo of our house, showing the study.

He texted: [Once she's gone, this room's gonna be your walk-in closet.]

Giana replied: [I like the bay window in the master bedroom better.]

Matthew: [It's all yours.]

I designed that bay window in the master bedroom. I used to sit there, sipping coffee, waiting for him to come home.

Now, Giana said she liked it.

And Matthew said, [It's all yours.]

My fingers were a little cold, but my hand on the mouse stayed steady.

I could hear the office filled with hushed, tense whispers.

"Oh my god, is that Matthew?"

"Giana? She always seemed so innocent."

"Jeez, Calliope got screwed over."

"Shh, keep it down."

Someone in the office couldn't hold back and let out a quick snicker.

That laugh was like a signal.

Giana finally realized something was off.

The office was so quiet that it was almost creepy.

She looked up, bewildered, scanning the room.

Everyone was staring at her with a strange blend of sympathy, disdain, and that unmistakable look of people watching a train wreck.

She frowned, looking a bit lost.

She even looked my way, flashing me an innocent, questioning smile.

She said, "Callie, what's going on? Why isn't anyone working?"

Her voice was crisp and sweet.

I didn't answer her.

I kept scrolling up with the mouse wheel.

I scrolled back to the day they first went to the hotel.

Matthew sent a photo of the key to room number 1314.

He texted: [Babe, I'm here. Wait for me, I'll be there soon.]

Giana's body stiffened the moment she caught sight of the wall.

She saw that massive, all-too-familiar chat interface.

Her face instantly drained of all color.

Giana's expression froze.

The smile lingering at the corner of her mouth stayed, stiff on her pale face, making her look strangely absurd.

Her eyes were locked on the projection on the wall, her pupils contracting with fear.

The office was dead silent.

The only sound was the projector's fan whirring, like it was background noise for this mess.

I stood up.

My high heels tapped sharply against the floor, each step slicing through the silence.

Every tap landed like a blow on Giana's heart.

I walked over to her desk.

She was still twisted around, frozen mid-turn, her whole body locked up like a statue.

Her WhatsApp chat window was still open on her screen for everyone to see.

She'd typed out a line, her fingers still hovering over the keyboard, but she hadn't hit send. [Honey, you're the best.]

The word "Honey" on the screen was pathetic, almost a joke.

I stopped in front of Giana, towering over her.

I could smell that familiar perfume on her, the same scent that lingered on Matthew's coat when he came home last night.

I smiled, my voice soft but clear enough to cut through the silence. "He said he missed you."

I reached out and tapped the huge projection on the wall.

"He also said he'd buy you a necklace and give you my bay window," I said. "Feeling touched?"

Giana's lips were trembling so hard that she couldn't say a thing.

Her eyes were wide with terror, shame, and a desperate plea for mercy.

She looked like a fish out of water, gasping for air, her mouth opening and closing, but not a sound came out.

I leaned in, my voice barely above a whisper, just for her to hear.

I said, "I helped you land a permanent spot here, showed you how to put together proposals, and this is how you pay me back?"