When the CEO's Wife Seeks Power, Not Love

To honor that kindness, I signed the damn agreement.

From that day forward, I became the useless live-in boyfriend. Her shield against every arrow—open and hidden alike.

For three years.

I watched her drink herself into oblivion to close contracts, vomit splashing across her designer clothes. I carried her home. Cleaned her up. Tucked her in.

I watched her hide in restrooms, sobbing after the board cornered her. I quietly leveraged the Mason family's connections to solve problems she never knew existed.

Those three years had gone too smoothly. She convinced herself she was a chosen business genius.

And in return, she treated me like a servant.

"Hey! Kevin is talking to you! Are you deaf?"

A sudden chill drenched my skull. Amber liquid cascaded through my hair, stinging my eyes, dripping down my jaw.

Evan Whitney loomed over me, wine glass tilted at a mocking angle.

"Oops." He gasped with theatrical shock, a vicious smirk splitting his face. "My hand slipped. Young Master Mason, don't mind it. Just think of it as a bath to wash off that poor, sour stench of yours."

The private room went silent for a heartbeat—then erupted into raucous laughter.

Kevin rocked Elisa in his arms, howling. "Evan, you're wasting good alcohol! That wine is worth more than his life."

Elisa didn't intervene.

She only frowned and shrank back, as though terrified the splashed wine might stain her custom haute couture.

"So filthy," she muttered, disgust dripping from every syllable. "Adam, go to the restroom and clean yourself up. Don't be an eyesore. You're making a fool of yourself."

I wiped my face. Wine and sweat mingled, bitter and astringent on my tongue.

But I didn't move. I remained on that small stool in the corner, gaze fixed on the time.

Only a few hours left.

This 1,095-day prison sentence was finally ending.

"Adam Mason!"

Seeing me motionless, Elisa's patience shattered. Her voice pitched upward. "I told you to get out. Didn't you hear me? Do I have to call security to throw you out?"

"Elisa, don't be angry." Kevin's voice was silk, though his hand roamed shamelessly around her waist. "A dog... sometimes it just can't understand human speech. Beat it once. It'll learn."

He glanced at Evan.

Evan understood immediately. He chuckled, snatching an empty wine bottle from the table, weighing it in his palm, eyes glittering with malice.

"Adam. Rolling out yourself—or should I help?"

I raised my head.

It was the first time tonight I'd met their eyes directly.

Watching these clowns preen and posture, laughter bubbled in my chest. I swallowed it.

Elisa was already burrowing into Kevin's embrace. Since she was occupied, I decided to leave.

I stood. Walked out.

By the time the bus deposited me at the villa, it was past eleven.

The house was in Elisa's name, but I'd lived here for three full years.

As I stepped inside, a foreign scent hit me—red wine, heather, and a pungent men's cologne that made my nostrils flare.

I recognized that cologne. It had clung to the air in the private room all night.

Aggressive. Cheap. Carrying a lewd undertone that made my skin crawl.

The master bedroom door on the second floor hung ajar. Sounds drifted down the hallway—sounds no one should have to hear.

"Mmm... gently... you're so annoying..."

Elisa.

At the company, she was a terror. Subordinates fell silent mid-sentence when she entered a room. When she scolded me, she transformed into a drill sergeant. But now? Her voice dripped with false sweetness so thick it curdled my stomach.

"Kevin, the company's been a bit tight on cash lately." She cooed between breaths. "The investment you promised me... it can't fall through."

"Got it, got it. That little bit of money? Nothing. Pocket change." Kevin's voice oozed lust and arrogance. "Elisa, what I'm more curious about is this—if you let that useless boyfriend of yours watch us right now, what do you think he'd do?"

"Why bring up that buzzkill?"