Chapter 2

For example, with a look from Rhett, Matilda knew which document to hand him.

Before Rhett could finish a sentence, she'd jump in and complete it for him.

She'd joke with me, "Mrs. Shelton, sometimes I feel like I know Mr. Shelton better than you do."

Back then, I laughed it off.

I always believed that being a man's trusted partner at work and his soulmate in life were two separate tracks.

They never got in each other's way.

Looking back, I realized I was too naive.

Or maybe I was overly confident.

I was so confident that I missed all the subtle clues, like how Rhett started coming home later and later.

I missed how sometimes, he'd come home smelling like a perfume that wasn't mine.

I missed how he'd start pushing back against my decisions, unconsciously using Matilda's way of speaking.

He'd say, "Monica, your idea is a bit too idealistic. Matilda's plan is safer.

"Matilda said this project was risky. Maybe we should hold off for now."

He kept mentioning Matilda all the time.

Her name started coming up more and more.

I kept telling myself it was business as usual until that photo, sharp as a blade, shattered all the false peace.

I closed my eyes, and that photo popped back into my mind.

I remembered Rhett's sleeping face, my coat, and Matilda's snarky caption in the photo.

I wondered what made her think she dared to do that.

She was sure I wouldn't dare make a scene.

She was convinced I'd grit my teeth and suffer in silence for Rhett's career, for the sake of the company's stability.

She was convinced I'd go to her or Rhett in private, cry, throw a fit, and then swallow some excuse about how "it's the mistake every man makes."

That way, she could keep lurking by Rhett's side, posing as the victor, until she replaced me.

Too bad for her, she miscalculated.

I never played to lose.

If she wanted a fight, I'd give her the grandest stage for battle.

I'd make sure everyone in the company, almost a thousand people, witnessed her little love story.

I couldn't tell when I finally fell asleep.

All I knew was that I slept like the dead.

I didn't dream at all.

Two days later, I woke up on my own, no alarm, no interruptions.

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, painting patchy shadows on the wooden floor.

The room was strange, but the air smelled like my perfume.

I sat up and picked up my phone from beside my pillow.

After switching off my phone for two days, it was finally time to see how wild things had gotten.

I took a deep breath and pressed the power button.

The phone vibrated, and the screen lit up.

After the familiar startup animation, the signal bars shot up to full strength.

And then, my phone went crazy.

It buzzed nonstop.

The vibrations were so intense that it felt like the phone was about to leap out of my hand.

Missed calls, texts, WhatsApp messages, and notifications from every app imaginable flooded the screen like a tidal wave after a dam burst.

There were over a hundred missed calls and dozens of unread texts.

And the WhatsApp messages were maxed out.

The phone was burning up from the flood of messages, freezing and stuttering in my hand.

I looked at the list of missed calls.

Rhett's name was at the top.

There were over ninety-nine missed calls.

Below that were calls from company execs, my friends, and some numbers I didn't know.

I put my phone on silent and tossed it aside.

I got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a simple breakfast.

I had a fried egg, toast, and a glass of warm milk.

I ate slowly and methodically, taking my time with every bite.

It was as if the chaos tearing through my world had nothing to do with me.

After breakfast, I washed the dishes.

Only then did I pick up my phone, still hot to the touch.

I didn't bother with any of Rhett's messages.

Instead, I opened the main company WhatsApp group chat.

Two days were more than enough for everything to escalate.

The group chat was blowing up.

My "congratulations" message had landed like a depth charge.

For a few minutes, the chat went dead silent.

Then, the first to react was the HR director.

He sent a shocked emoji and then quickly deleted it.

Then, the whispers started flying.

[What the hell? What's happening?]

[Did someone hack Ms. Sanford's account?]

[Is that Mr. Shelton in the photo?]

[Oh my god, that's a lot to take in.]

[Ms. Palmer messed up big time, huh?]

After the initial shock, the group chat quickly split into factions.

Some were watching the show.

Some were here for the gossip.

And some had chosen their sides.

A female colleague who usually hung out with Matilda spoke up, [Hey, everyone, let's not jump to conclusions.

[I believe Ms. Palmer would never do something like that. There must be some misunderstanding.]