My Fair CEO Husband Took His Secretary’s Side

"Julian, they didn't go inside," I said, staring down the dark, narrow alley next to the VIP entrance.

"What do you mean?" Julian asked over the phone.

"The car is parked by the dumpsters."

I hung up the phone and shoved it into my pocket. The freezing rain soaked through my wool coat, pasting my hair against my cheeks. I walked toward the black Maybach hidden in the shadows. The engine was entirely shut off. The rear passenger window was rolled down two inches.

The heavy scent of rain couldn't mask the sharp sounds echoing from the backseat.

"Fuck, Zack," Odessa whined.

"Spread your legs wider," Zack growled. "Let me fuck your wet pussy."

I stepped closer, my boots splashing in the puddles. I peered through the rain-streaked glass. Zack had Odessa pinned flat against the luxury leather seat. Her pencil skirt was bunched up around her waist. His expensive tailored trousers were shoved down to his knees.

He gripped her bare breasts, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.

"I'm fucking you so deep," he grunted, driving his cock violently into her.

"Yes," Odessa moaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. "Fuck my pussy harder, Zack. Don't stop."

"You want my cock?" he asked, his voice rough and demanding.

"I love your fucking cock," she answered.

He thrust faster. The wet, slapping sound of skin against skin filled the tight space of the alley. He pulled back, the streetlamp catching the gleam of his thick cock, before he rammed it all the way back into her pussy. Odessa screamed his name, her fingernails digging deep into his broad shoulders.

I stood paralyzed in the storm. My husband. The man who coldly rejected my marketing pitch hours ago. The man who claimed he always separated business from pleasure.

He groaned loudly, his hips snapping forward one final time as he finished inside her.

A passing car turned the corner onto the main street. Bright headlights swept across the brick walls of the alley, illuminating the backseat.

Odessa sat up quickly. She grabbed her torn silk blouse, pulling the fabric over her chest. She deliberately left the top three buttons undone, exposing her bare collarbone and the fresh red marks on her neck. She looked directly toward the cracked window. She knew I was standing there.

Zack raised his large hand, completely shielding Odessa's face from the harsh glare of the headlights. He protected her without a second thought.

I grabbed the heavy door handle and yanked it open. The interior dome lights flicked on, flooding the car with bright yellow light.

"What exactly is this?" I asked.

Odessa gasped. Tears instantly flooded her eyes, spilling over her mascara. She hugged her coat tightly against her exposed chest, her lower lip trembling violently.

"Miss Thorne!" she cried, her voice cracking. "Please, it isn't what it looks like. I felt sick. My stomach was cramping so badly. Mr. Mercer was just taking me home."

Zack grabbed his belt and zipped his trousers. He didn't scramble. He didn't apologize. He shifted his broad shoulders forward, completely blocking my view of his secretary.

"Are you checking up on me?" Zack asked. His tone was absolute ice.

The words punched the air straight out of my lungs. He looked at me like a crazy employee. Like a stranger who had no right to interrupt his night.

"Checking up on you?" I asked.

"This is entirely unprofessional, Aria," Zack warned, his dark eyes narrowing. "You followed my car. You are acting unhinged."

"She is unwell," he added, gesturing blindly behind him. "You have no right to harass her."

"Harass her?" I repeated. "You are half-naked in the backseat of a car."

"Close the door, Aria. Go home."

I stared at the man I had shared a home with for three years. I looked at the hand that had just shielded another woman from the light. I didn't scream. I didn't announce our secret marriage to the crying woman in the backseat.

I grabbed my left hand. I gripped the simple platinum band resting on my ring finger.

I twisted the metal over my wet knuckle and pulled it off.

"I finally understand," I said, my voice eerily calm. "Your so-called principles were never principles at all."

I tossed the ring. It bounced off Zack's chest and clattered onto the floorboard.

Zack's jaw dropped. The cold, indifferent mask shattered instantly. Pure panic rushed across his face, his dark eyes widening in horror.

"Aria, wait," he said, reaching a hand out toward me.

I slammed the heavy door shut. I turned my back on the Maybach and walked out of the alley, letting the freezing rain wash over me.

***

Morning sunlight glared through the massive glass windows of the marketing department.

I walked toward my desk. The usual hum of ringing phones and clacking keyboards vanished. The entire floor fell dead silent. Dozens of eyes tracked my every movement.

Gemma, my lead analyst, ran up to my desk before I even set my bag down.

"Aria," Gemma whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "The whole floor is talking."

"Talking about what?" I asked, turning on my monitor.

"They know," Gemma said. She swallowed hard. "Everyone knows you are married to the CEO."

My stomach dropped. I gripped the edge of my desk. "Who told them?"

"That isn't the main problem," she said, leaning closer. "They are saying you used your marriage to bully Odessa. The forum is going crazy. They think you are a jealous wife trying to ruin her career."

"I didn't even speak to her yesterday," I said.

"They say you forced him into the marriage," Gemma continued, her voice shaking. "They say you threatened to fire Odessa if she didn't quit."

"I have no authority to fire the CEO's secretary."

"People don't care about the truth right now. They care about the scandal."

My computer chimed loudly. A high-priority notification flashed across my screen, painting the monitor bright red.

I clicked the mouse.

Sender: Anonymous.

Recipient: Executive Board; All Department Heads.

Subject: Evidence of Aria Thorne Exploiting Marital Status.

"Look at this," Gemma pointed at the screen.

I opened the attachment. A massive PDF file loaded. It contained forged emails from my account to Human Resources, demanding Odessa's immediate termination. It included fake expense reports, showing luxury gifts supposedly bought with company funds under the guise of 'CEO Spousal Expenses.'

"Someone is framing you," Gemma said.

I scrolled down to the final page. A photograph filled the screen. It was a blurry, zoomed-in shot of me standing in the rain outside the Maybach last night, looking like a deranged stalker peering into the window.

My desk phone began to ring. The caller ID flashed the boardroom extension.

I picked up the receiver.

"Director Thorne," the Head of Human Resources said. "The board requires your presence immediately. We need to discuss your resignation."