The Unwanted Wife: No Longer His Shield

Aryanna's needle-thin stiletto Jimmy Choo heels clicked aggressively against the polished marble floor of the Montgomery Group lobby.

The front desk receptionist spotted her immediately. The woman plastered on a bright, professional smile and gestured toward the private executive elevator that led straight to the CEO's floor.

Aryanna didn't even look at it. She waved the woman off and marched directly toward the standard employee elevators, pressing the button for the 20th floor. Human Resources.

The elevator doors slid open.

The bustling HR department instantly went dead silent. Dozens of employees stared in absolute shock at the CEO's wife-a woman they usually only saw in the glossy pages of party magazines-standing in their cubicle maze.

Aryanna walked straight to the HR Director's glass office. She slammed a single sheet of paper onto his desk.

The Director jumped out of his chair, his eyes bugging out as he read the document. It was a formal letter of resignation for her title as "Executive Assistant to the CEO."

"Process this immediately," Aryanna ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. "And deactivate my building access card."

While the Director fumbled nervously with his keyboard, Aryanna pulled out her phone. She opened her contacts and mass-blocked every single socialite group chat associated with the Montgomery and Garza families.

Watching those fake, sycophantic names disappear from her screen sent a rush of pure oxygen into her lungs. She felt lighter than she had in years.

Once the paperwork was stamped, she grabbed a small cardboard box containing a few personal items and walked out of the office.

As she turned the corner, she nearly collided with Shelly Price, an HR coordinator.

Shelly's face was chalk-white. She swayed on her feet, her eyes rolling back.

Aryanna dropped her box and grabbed Shelly by the shoulders, keeping her from hitting the floor. She guided the trembling woman to a lobby sofa. Aryanna dug into her bag, pulled out a Swiss mint, and forced it into Shelly's hand.

"Eat it. Your blood sugar crashed," Aryanna said softly.

Shelly chewed the mint, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. She looked up at Aryanna with immense gratitude. She leaned in close, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Mrs. Montgomery... you should know. The top floor just sent down an expedited employment contract. They're hiring a woman named Kaylen Steele."

Aryanna's fingers tightened violently around the edge of her cardboard box. The cardboard crumpled under her grip.

Her eyes turned to absolute ice.

She had planned to leave the building quietly. But this? Bringing his mistress into the company?

Aryanna turned around and walked straight to the executive coffee bar on the first floor. Using her face as the ultimate VIP pass, she stepped behind the counter, ignoring the confused barista.

She grabbed a black ceramic mug. She brewed a double shot of black espresso. No sugar. No milk. Exactly how Branden drank it.

Before she snapped the lid on, she reached into her bag. She pulled out a small packet of heavy-duty laxative powder she kept for travel emergencies.

Without a second of hesitation, she dumped the entire packet into the steaming black coffee. She stirred it vigorously until the powder dissolved, a wicked, cold smile playing on her lips.

She carried the spiked coffee to the private elevator and rode it to the top floor.

When the doors opened, Reid saw her holding the mug. He let out a visible sigh of relief, clearly thinking she was bringing a peace offering.

"He's in a good mood, ma'am," Reid whispered, gesturing to the office.

Aryanna ignored him. She pushed open the heavy walnut doors with one hand.

Branden was sitting behind his massive desk. When he saw her walk in with the coffee, a triumphant, arrogant smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

He leaned back in his leather chair, completely relaxed. He had won.

Aryanna walked right up to the desk. She slammed the hot coffee down directly on top of his financial reports.

Branden raised an eyebrow. He reached out and wrapped his large hand around the mug, his eyes locking onto hers with predatory dominance.

"As long as you behave yourself from now on," Branden said, his voice dripping with condescension, "I'm willing to pretend last night never happened."

Aryanna stared at his lips as he brought the rim of the cup closer to his mouth. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Drink it. Drink it.

Just as the hot liquid was about to touch his bottom lip, Branden froze.

His eyes darted down. Years of navigating high-stakes environments had honed his senses to a razor's edge. He caught something. Clinging to the very edge of the black ceramic rim was a microscopic trace of white powder.