His Wife's Place Was Never Mine

“Never mind. I’ll get myself home.”

Morton looked at her, his brows drawing together.

In that single second, I already knew the answer.

He said, “I’ll drop her at the corner. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded.

“Go.”

He froze for a beat.

I didn’t wait for him to come back. As I stepped out of the old family estate, Jean called me.

“Why do you sound like that?”

I said, “Jean, do you think Morton loves me?”

The line went quiet for two seconds.

Then she said, “I always knew this day would come sooner or later.”

I stood at the curb, the wind stinging my eyes.

So the humiliation I thought I’d hidden so well, everyone else had seen a long time ago.

On the third day, Morton offered to take me to the company himself.

“There’s an internal celebration today. I’ll introduce you properly.”

I looked at him.

“Properly to what degree?”

He said, “In front of all the executives.”

I asked, “Is Sabina going?”

Morton paused.

“She’s the brand consultant. She might come.”

I smiled.

“Then I understand.”

He said, “Mavis, don’t pin everything on her.”

I said nothing more.

At three in the afternoon, I arrived downstairs at the Delgado building.

The receptionist saw Morton and shot to her feet.

“Mr. Delgado.”

Morton took my hand.

“This is my wife, Mavis.”

The receptionist blinked, then quickly nodded.

“Hello, Mrs. Delgado.”

It was the first time. And before I could feel even a flicker of anything, the turnstile buzzed.

Red light. My badge wouldn’t let me through.

The receptionist checked for a long while, her face growing more and more awkward.

“Mr. Delgado, the family contact bound in the system is Miss Sabina Pruitt.”

Morton’s face darkened in an instant.

“Who entered that?”

The administrative manager hurried down.

“Mr. Delgado, Mrs. Delgado arranged it before. She said Miss Pruitt came to the office often, so it would be convenient for her to get in and out.”

I looked at that turnstile. Sabina could walk through without registering.

Me, the actual Mrs. Delgado, was blocked at the door.

Morton tightened his grip on my hand.

“Change it right now.”

The administrative manager opened the back end and asked carefully, “Mr. Delgado, do you want me to delete Miss Pruitt’s access?”

“Add Mavis first.”

I lifted my head to look at him.

“Why not delete hers?”

He said in a low voice, “She still has projects to come and go for.”

I pulled my hand free.

“Then don’t bother adding mine.”

Morton frowned.

“Mavis.”

I said, “I don’t want to be tacked on after her.”

Inside the conference room, the executives were already seated.

When I walked in, Sabina was standing in front of the big screen, presenting the brand campaign.

On the cover of the proposal was her name. I stopped.

That proposal was the one I’d stayed up three nights to help Morton revise.

From the user profiles to the crisis-response plan, from the post-IPO brand pivot to the entry point into the female consumer market, all of it was my work.

Morton saw it too, and his expression shifted.

When Sabina finished, applause filled the room.

Someone said with a smile, “Consultant Pruitt truly is the person closest to Mr. Delgado who understands the brand best.”

Sabina glanced at Morton.

“Actually, Morton gave me his input on a lot of the details.”

I gave a small smile.

Morton stood up.

“Mavis was involved in this proposal too.”

Too.

One word, and my three sleepless nights became a casual favor.

Sabina spoke up at once. “Right, Mavis looked over a few typos for me.”

Someone in the room laughed.

“Mrs. Delgado is very meticulous too.”

I looked at Morton. His brows were pulled tight.