Chapter 2
The following day, I completed my pre-procedure hospital check-up and stopped by the office to hand over my duties.
By the time I arrived home, Alex was already there. So was Emily, of course.
She lounged on the sofa in a frilly pink pajama set, absently snacking on spicy beef jerky while a melodramatic soap opera blared from her tablet.
The over-the-top dialogue grated on my nerves.
The whole apartment carried the heavy, pungent scent of spices, and the coffee table was littered with empty wrappers.
My favorite vase of fresh tulips had been unceremoniously shoved onto the floor.
In our home, Alex had always banned such heavily seasoned junk food.
Strong odors like this were absolutely forbidden.
Even when I occasionally treated myself to a fruit smoothie, he'd look at me with clear disapproval.
"Sophia, you're not a child. Must you always drink that cold, sugary stuff?" he'd always say, full of judgment.
Yet here was Alex—the man who detested strong smells and spicy food—in the kitchen, preparing a pot of Cajun-style crawfish for Emily.
The irony sat bitterly in my stomach. For my last birthday, all I'd wanted was for him to bake me a small slice of cake.
He'd refused, citing an early morning meeting.
That same afternoon, he'd brought Emily a freshly baked pastrami and egg bagel.
She'd gushed about it online, posting a photo with the caption: [Mentioned a craving and got it fulfilled instantly. Mr. Carter's attention always delivers!]
The background was unmistakably his office.
So his rules could be broken. I simply wasn't the exception anymore.
Noticing my return, Emily scrambled upright from the sofa.
Alex emerged from the kitchen, setting a dish on the dining table before turning toward me, still standing in the entryway.
"You're back. Go wash up. Dinner's almost ready," he said, his tone casual.
He paused, as if an afterthought. "There's been some creep harassing women in Emily's neighborhood lately. It didn't feel safe, so I invited her to stay with us for a while."
He said it so matter-of-factly, as though bringing a young female subordinate to live in our home was the most normal arrangement in the world.
I kicked off my shoes and gave a detached nod.
I'd be leaving in a few days anyway.
Emily offered a sugary smile, holding out a small gift box and a bag of wedding favors.
"Sophia, I'm really sorry about your anniversary with Mr. Carter... and about the marriage license thing. It was just to placate my family. Truly. Everyone at the office wanted the wedding favors, so I saved a set for you, too.
"To make it up to you, I picked out a little something. Sorry for intruding in the coming days..."
Her words sounded apologetic, but her eyes gleamed with unmistakable triumph.
I ignored the offered items, walking past her straight toward the bedroom.
Her smile faltered. A soft, wounded sniffle followed. "It's my fault. I deserve Sophia's anger..."
Alex stepped into my path, his expression darkening. "Emily went out of her way to get you a gift. Is this really necessary?
"I've told you, we're just boss and employee. Can you stop being so paranoid?
"You never believe me, do you? Fine. Now we're all under one roof. Keep your eyes open and see for yourself how 'innocent' things really are between Emily and me."
"Innocent?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "Innocent like getting a marriage license? Or setting a special ringtone just for her calls?
"Innocent like running a red light at midnight to deliver a heating pad? Or leaving me stranded at the subway in a downpour because she needed a lightbulb changed?"
He ran a hand over his forehead, frustration and exhaustion etched on his face.
"Sophia, how many times do I have to say it? The marriage license is fake. When will you believe me?
"And didn't you used to tell me to look out for Emily? I'm doing what you asked. Is that wrong now?"
I let out a self-mocking laugh.
Yeah, I knew about her difficult background—the family that favored her brother, her struggle through college.
When Alex complained about her inexperience at work, I'd actually encouraged him to be patient, to offer guidance.
I just never imagined it would lead here. Such shamelessness.
A wave of nausea, fueled by the rising emotions and the overpowering spicy smell, hit me violently.
I barely made it to the bathroom before retching, as if trying to purge every last bit of the disgust I'd swallowed over the past two years.