My Wife Is Forcing Me to Be Her Ex-Boyfriend's Assistant

Trevor’s smug grin widened as he turned to me, clearly reveling in the moment.

"Some people think marrying into the family gives them control over the company," he sneered. "But they forget—a kept man is just that. When it comes to real business, he doesn’t get a say."

He wasn’t even trying to be subtle. The insult was clear and the only thing missing was him pointing a finger directly at me.

Madeline didn’t flinch.

No outrage, no defense from her—not even a glance in my direction. Instead, she smiled sweetly, raising her glass to toast Mr. Cox, as if Trevor’s words had been perfectly acceptable.

Sensing his advantage, Trevor pressed on, his voice dripping with mock concern.

"There was a full 10% margin on the table, but you told Mr. Cox it was only 5%, just to pocket a little extra for yourself. Now, out of the kindness of his heart, he’s still willing to move forward with the deal. Don’t you think you owe him something for that?"

I held his gaze, my expression cold.

I might not hold the same sway in the company as I once did, but I was still the vice president — a title I’d earned. Trevor, on the other hand, was just a newly hired sales rep. Yet, because of Madeline’s blatant favoritism, he clearly thought he had free rein to humiliate me.

And he wasn’t done. Flashing a self-satisfied grin, he lifted his glass.

"At the very least, you should down three drinks to apologize. That’s the bare minimum. And don’t try the ‘alcohol allergy’ excuse. Everyone knows a real businessman can handle a couple of drinks."

The mention of my allergy wasn’t accidental. It was calculated.

Trevor wasn’t just trying to embarrass me — he wanted to see me crumble. And judging by the amused glint in his eyes, he was loving every second of it.

I glanced at Madeline.

She looked uneasy, but she held her ground. "Trevor told you to drink, so drink. It’s not like it’ll kill you."

She knew exactly how dangerous that was. I wasn’t just allergic to alcohol—I had a serious stomach condition.

Years ago, when Madeline said she wanted the company to grow quickly, I did whatever it took to make that happen.

I attended endless meetings, pouring drink after drink to win over investors. I pushed myself until the alcohol tore through my stomach lining, landing me in the hospital.

I can still see her, sitting beside my bed, tears streaming down her face. She clutched my hand, swearing nothing was more important than my health. She made me promise I’d never drink again, vowing she’d never forgive me if I did.

But she was totally different now.

I gave her a long, steady look and nodded. "If that’s what you want, then I’ll oblige."

But after three glasses, we were done, I thought.

The liquor burned like fire, scorching my throat and igniting the pain in my gut. I swallowed it down without flinching, my face betraying nothing.

Without a single word, I turned and walked out of the private room.

Laughter echoed behind me, careless and smug. Trevor’s voice rang out, loud enough for me to hear.

"Madeline, I always thought you were living the high life while I was overseas. I never imagined you’d end up marrying a spineless freeloader like him."

"Did you see how he had the audacity to glare at you in front of Mr. Cox? The nerve of that guy. Completely out of line."

My steps slowed down. I paused just beyond the door, waiting. I needed to hear what Madeline would say.

Madeline barely hesitated before her response.

"Compared to you—a master’s graduate fresh from overseas—he’s just a lowly community college dropout. A few years in management and he’s already forgotten his place."

"Tomorrow, I’ll be making an official announcement at the company. He’s getting demoted."

Trevor was quick to chime in, eager to please.

"That’s why you’re such a great leader. People like him, who think a little experience and some old connections give them power, should’ve been dealt with a long time ago."

I didn’t wait to hear more. Their words were enough.

Trevor had insulted me over and over in front of our business partners and Madeline—my wife—hadn’t just let it happen. She encouraged it. Whatever loyalty I’d held onto had been chipped away until there was nothing left.

I was done.

By the time I stepped out of the hotel, the nausea hit hard. My stomach burned, twisting with pain. I barely made it to the side before I threw up, cold sweat dripping down my face.

The nearest hospital was an hour away, but home was only thirty minutes. My meds were there. That would have to do.

Before getting in the car, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my attorney.

"Draft the divorce papers. As soon as possible."

I drove in silence, the dull ache in my stomach refusing to subside.

When I finally arrived, the house was dark. Nelson was already asleep, his soft breathing barely audible through the cracked door. I climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to wake him and took my medication.

The bitter taste lingered as I swallowed, but at least the pain began to dull.

Then I heard the front door unlock. Normally, I would’ve gone to greet Madeline the moment she walked in. But not tonight.

Madeline barely made it a few steps before her voice rang out with sharp accusations.

"You stormed out without saying a word and now you’re just standing here like a corpse? Can you stop being so damn childish for once?"