Work Party, Marriage Over

Then she let out a girlish giggle.

My heart plummeted. In that moment, I was certain Charles was having an affair.

As we left the escape room, Vivian whined that she was hungry.

Charles immediately suggested dinner before the next activity.

I had just placed my hand on the passenger-side door when Charles pressed it shut.

“Vivian gets carsick. Let her sit up front.”

“She can ride with David—his car’s empty.”

“No way. I don’t trust her riding with someone else.”

“Babe, it’s just the front seat. Don’t make a fuss. When you’re not around, Vivian always sits beside me anyway.”

I rolled my eyes and climbed into the back seat instead.

“I knew my wife wouldn’t be unreasonable,” he muttered smugly.

Vivian put on a sweet voice. “Sorry, Sophia, I’ve told Mr. Miller plenty of times not to make exceptions for me, but he always takes care of me. He’s truly the best boss in the world.”

Charles grinned. “The best boss in the world—you’re lucky to have me.”

“Of course. My heart and soul will always belong to you.”

My stomach churned so hard I thought I’d vomit.

Flirting shamelessly in front of me—they couldn’t care less who was watching.

If they were this brazen with me present, what would they do if I weren’t there? Probably already have a child together.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I realized it was a Louisiana Cajun seafood place.

My temper flared.

“Charles, you know I can’t eat spicy food.”

Vivian gasped. “Oh, Sophia, I didn’t know you couldn’t eat spicy! I just happened to mention wanting Cajun tonight, and Mr. Miller brought us here.”

“Mr. Miller, if she can’t handle spice, maybe we should pick somewhere else?”

Charles waved her off. “She can just eat less. She’s so fat anyway, skipping a meal won’t kill her.”

Then he smirked at me. “Babe, didn’t you say you were on a diet? You should be thanking me.”

I nearly exploded but held it in—too many employees were watching.

I swallowed my anger. Fine. Let’s see what other “surprises” the night brings.

The heavy, spicy aroma of the broth made me cough uncontrollably.

“Babe, if it’s too much, wait in the car. No need to sit here uncomfortable,” Charles said, as if being thoughtful.

I stood up and left—not to the car, but straight to his. I drove it away.

Then I found a French fine-dining steakhouse, ordered foie gras, truffle, and a tomahawk steak, and savored it slowly.

Money was no issue—I would never go hungry.

Not long after, Charles called.

“You took my car?”

“Yeah. I went out to eat.”

“You could’ve said something! Weren’t you dieting?”

“I weigh less than a hundred pounds. What diet? You’re the one with fatty liver—I only offered to join you. Can’t you understand plain English?”

I hung up. No man was going to ruin my dinner.

Moments later, my assistant David Lee texted: “Ms. Dawson, Charles brought everyone to a karaoke bar in Las Vegas. I’ve sent you the location.”

So Charles had ditched me to keep partying with his secretary.

What he didn’t realize was that I had people in his team reporting back to me.

I savored my steak while David live-streamed the scene from their private karaoke room.