My Husband Promoted His Mistress, So I Walked Away

I'd worked toward the design director position for three years, only to have it handed to the junior protge the general manager parachuted in.

He said, You're getting older. Your creativity and your energy can't keep up with the younger ones. It's time you stepped aside.

I argued my case. But every major project this company has landed, I led to completion!

"Those were resources the company gave you! They don't prove your personal ability!"

"Abraham Delgado! You know perfectly well that"

"Winona Sullivan! Call me Mr. Delgado! Inside this company I'm not your husband, I'm your superior! I'm asking you to cooperate with the company's personnel reassignment!"

Agatha Mason stepped in to smooth things over. "Abraham, maybe I really should just let your wife have it."

Abraham didn't correct what she'd called him. If anything, his tone softened.

"Company matters aren't a game of pretend. I've already notified HR. It can't be changed."

"Settle into your seat. Anything you don't understand, I'll teach you."

But when he turned to me, his voice went bitterly cold.

"The projects that belong to you, you'll keep handling. When they're done, just submit them to Agatha for approval."

Which meant I'd still do the work, and Agatha would pluck the fruit.

I looked at the face of this man, married to me for five years, my colleague for eight, and suddenly I laughed.

"No need. I'm resigning right now."

The design director title and the position of Mrs. DelgadoI wanted neither.

When I went back to my desk to write my resignation letter, Abraham followed.

"You've been here eight years. Don't throw away everything you fought so hard for over a moment of spite."

"You're not some kid fresh out of school. Do I really have to spell this out for you?"

So he did know how hard-won everything of mine was.

And yet he'd handed the fruit of it to someone else with his own hands.

My eyes stung, but my hands didn't stop typing.

"Mr. Delgado, it's working hours right now. Please don't meddle in your employee's private life."

His breathing grew heavier. Aware of the faint glances around us, he lowered his voice.

"Do you have any idea? At your age, you go out and interview now, you'll be cut in the first round!"

"Don't be so naive!"

I pulled the resignation letter out of the printer and signed it without hesitation.

"Mr. Delgado, will you approve it?"

His face dark, he took it.

"Winona, do you really have to push this all the way?"

"I'm not pushing anything. I just don't want to do this anymore."

"There are several projects that still need you to wrap up. If you just leave like this, what's Agatha supposed to do?"

Only then did I understand. It wasn't that he didn't want me to resign. He wanted me to pave the road for his little protge first, then go.

I opened my email and sent the resignation straight to Abraham and HR, both copied.

"Can you approve it now?"

"I assume Mr. Delgado wouldn't want me to go explain to HR in person that you're blocking me over a personal relationship?"

I knew the thing he hated most was mixing the personal with the professional.

Eight years, and he never once let me walk into his office alone. Anything he needed, he came straight to my desk to tell me.

Even when I wasn't feeling well, he never let me ride to and from work in his car.

When I worked into the dead of night and forgot to eat, he'd rather text me to pick up the delivery at the front desk than bring me a single bite himself.

For the longest time I never thought anything of it.

Business was business, private was privatethat was the rule we both lived by.

It wasn't until Agatha arrived that I understood. Some principles aren't unbreakable. It just depends on who they're for.

She could eat in the cafeteria with him. She could leave her personal things in his office.

He could introduce her openly as his protge and ask everyone to look after her.

But no one could be allowed to know I was his wife.

So I was certain he wouldn't actually let me go to HR.

Sure enough, the next second he loosened his tie and forced a few words out through his teeth:

"Fine. Don't come crying about it later!"

"I'll personally handle Agatha's follow-up projects, so don't flatter yourself thinking this company stops running without you!"

"You have one month to hand off everything to Director Mason. After that, I won't stand in your way."

He didn't wait for me to answer before walking back into the general manager's office.

The last thing I saw before the door closed was him draping a blanket over Agatha, asleep on the sofa.

The stomach really is an emotional organ. No matter how hard I pretended not to care, I couldn't ignore the dull ache there.

It didn't stop me from pulling out my phone and sending a message:

"Resignation effective in one month. We can discuss the rest of the terms in person."

That night, after two subway transfers, I got home before Abraham did.

Normally he drove and I took the subway, and he always beat me home.

I sat on the sofa without turning on the lights, quietly looking around the home I'd lived in for five years.

Back then Abraham hadn't been promoted to general manager yet. We were both just ordinary designers.

We scrimped and saved for a long time before we could scrape together the down payment for this place.

It didn't matter that the location was out of the way, that the layout was awkward.

Next to the sense of belonging it gave me, none of that was worth mentioning.

Only tonight, sitting here, for some reason it suddenly felt unfamiliar.

At ten, Abraham came home, a cake in his hand.

I went still for a moment.

We'd never been in the habit of celebrating our wedding anniversary.

Maybe the day had gone badly enough that he wanted to smooth things over.

Seeing me on the sofa surprised him a little. "Still up?"

I walked over, my hand freezing midair as I reached out.

Only half the cake was left, the heart in the center scooped out and eaten.

I actually spent a few seconds confirming it wasn't meant to look that way on purpose.

He set the cake down on the dining table without ceremony.

"I bought it to celebrate Agatha's promotion, but the girl only had a few bites before saying she was afraid of getting fat."

"I remembered you mentioned wanting cake a while back, so I brought the rest home for you."

My throat felt blocked. I couldn't make a sound.

Back when we were paying off the mortgage, I never bought myself a single decent piece of clothing. I wore my sister's hand-me-downs.

Even at the grocery store, I'd pick out the bruised, marked-down produce.

From the day we cleared that mortgage, I told him: I, Winona Sullivan, would never again take anyone's leftovers.

And now he was handing me a leftover cake. One he'd bought for another woman, no less.

When the sound of his shower drifted out, I began drafting the divorce agreement on my phone.

The next morning, Abraham stood with me at the elevator.

I looked at him, puzzled. This wasn't the time he usually left for work.

The corners of his mouth curved up as he typed out a message, saying offhandedly:

"Agatha's on her period today and she's not feeling great, so I'm swinging by to pick her up."

"If I remember right, going to her apartment is a forty-minute detour for you, isn't it?"

"It's only forty minutes. Just a tap on the gas."

The mirror in the elevator reflected our faces.

One worn out, the exhaustion no amount of full makeup could hide. One flush with delight, eyes on his phone.

My thoughts were still stuck on what he'd just said.

I remembered the time I'd been out shopping with a friend. It was pouring outside, and I'd asked him to drive over and pick me up at the subway entrance.

He'd said, "Just grab a cab home. Taking the car out is too much of a hassle."

A ten-minute drive was a hassle. Forty minutes was just a tap on the gas.

When we reached the ground floor, he hesitated, then asked, "How about it? Want a ride with me?"

I shook my head and stepped out of the elevator.

He let out a breath and pressed the button to close the doors.

When the elevator display hit B1, I pulled out my phone and called Agatha.

"I'm taking the morning off today."

"Reason?"

"Buying a car."

"Did you tell Abraham?"

"No need."

By the time the call ended, I was already in a cab headed to the dealership.

Look at the cars, test drive, sign the contract, pay, pick it up.

It was all settled in under half a day.

When I pressed the key and my car gave its little chirp, it still didn't feel real.

Only then did Abraham think to call me.

I answered.

"Winona! Buying a car is a big deal. You didn't talk to me about it first?"

"I used my own money."

"That's not what I meant. Do you even know how to pick one? Come back now. When I have time, I'll go with you."

"You've been saying that for two years."

"And I still took the subway for two years."

He went quiet.

After I parked at the office, Abraham was waiting in the lot.

"You drove back by yourself? How long has it been since you drove? Do you know how dangerous that is?"

Watching him act like he was so worried about me, I almost laughed out loud.

When the storm flooded rainwater into the subway station and I walked a mile home, he wasn't worried.

When I sprained my ankle and limped to catch the subway every day, he wasn't worried.

When I worked past midnight and took a cab home alone, he wasn't worried.

Now that I had my own car, suddenly he was worried about my safety.

"Abraham, I hired an instructor. A few laps and I had it down."

He paused.

In the past, when he'd criticized me, I would've fired right back.

I'd have stayed up half the night dragging him into an argument over who was right.

But now I answered as calmly as if he'd asked what I ate today.

His face darkened further.

"Winona, you... you seem a little different."

A delivery guy cut off what I was about to say.

Abraham stepped over quickly to take it.

"Agatha didn't eat lunch. Took me forever to coax her into at least having a milk tea. Kids these days."

He shook his head, indulgent, helpless.

"Not like back in our day..."

I finished it for him. "Not like back in our day, when we couldn't even bring ourselves to buy a single milk tea."

His smile froze on his lips.

This time my steps didn't slow. I walked straight to the office.

At four in the afternoon, I was in the middle of the handover with Agatha.

Abraham brought over two milk teas.

I frowned.

Eight years. This was the first time he'd ever set something down on my desk.

I knew it was only because Agatha got it too.

She threw herself at him in delight and hugged him.

Abraham caught her on instinct, then pushed her off the moment he met my eyes.

"I was just afraid you... you two wouldn't have time for dinner."

Agatha took a sip, grinning, and let out a satisfied sigh. "Thanks, Abraham! You're the most thoughtful!"

"With you covering all three of my meals, I'm saving on my whole food budget!"

Abraham saw I hadn't moved and asked, "Why aren't you drinking it? Try what the young people are into."

I pushed it away.

"No thanks, Mr. Delgado. I'm off sugar lately. I don't drink sweet stuff."

His face soured. He glanced around, and only when he saw no one was near did he drop his voice. "This is exactly why I don't like getting you things. Zero emotional payoff."

"Have you ever gotten me anything?" I asked.

His throat bobbed twice. He left me with a line, "I get you a milk tea and even that's a problem," and walked off.

I'd thought the handover would go fast, that I could get my resignation processed early too.

But Agatha was far more difficult than I'd imagined.

I sorted all the clients by industry standard and packaged every design draft with its corresponding post-production files.

She said:

"Your file formatting is a mess. I can't make sense of it."

"And you only have digital copies. What happens if they get lost someday? I want you to handwrite the source and the client contact information for every single project right now."

After more than ten days of this, with nothing ever satisfying her, I slammed my hand on the desk.

Abraham, who had been playing deaf and mute through all of it, called us both into his office at once.

"Winona, what's all the shouting about?"

"Agatha is the design director. You do whatever she tells you to do. The day Director Mason is satisfied is the day I sign your resignation request!"

Agatha let out a smug little hum, and before she turned to leave, she ordered me to make her a coffee and bring it to her office.

I folded my arms and looked at him.

"Abraham, this is what you call keeping business and personal separate?"

"Winona, whether you admit it or not, she's the design director now. If you humiliate her in front of everyone, how is she supposed to command any respect later?"

"Get it out of your system and then leave. It doesn't look good for you to be alone in here with me."

Five years of marriage, and for the first time, sharing a space with him felt suffocating.

"I'm going strictly by the law. Thirty days at the most, and I'm out on schedule. She can do whatever she wants with that."

Before starting at my new company, I still had to move and sell the apartment.

I didn't have time to waste dragging this out with them.

On my last day, all that was left on my desk was a water cup and a laptop.

Abraham had a meeting at headquarters today, so he'd signed off yesterday, and my resignation paperwork had already cleared.

After saying my goodbyes to everyone one by one, I gathered up those last two things and got ready to leave.

Only to find Agatha and her people blocking the doorway.

"I suspect there are company secrets on your personal computer. I'm having the tech department take it now!"

That laptop held every drop of effort I'd poured in over the years. It never left my side, going to and from work, and there was no way I'd let them walk off with it on their own.

"I'm willing to cooperate with an inspection, but I'm not handing it over to you!"

Agatha's lips curled into a mocking smile. "There are a lot of newly designed templates and fonts on that computer too, aren't there?"

I froze. Those were the portfolio pieces I'd been preparing for interviews after deciding to resign. I hadn't told a soul.

And the only person who could open my computer was Abraham.

Agatha said loudly:

"Some people have no professional integrity whatsoever. The company pours all these resources into training her, and she won't even hand over the core materials in full."

"If everyone acted like this, how would the department ever get its work done?"

All I wanted these past days was to resign and get out fast, but that didn't mean she got to walk all over me.

"This is my personal computer. The templates and fonts on it are my own original work. They have nothing to do with the company."

"You have no right to take my private designs!"

The coworkers around me chimed in. "Exactly. Who doesn't know how much Winona has contributed here? Most of the proposals were original work she did with her own hands. Why would she need to take anything?"

"If you ask me, some people are just deliberately making things hard for others!"

Agatha couldn't keep her composure. She gave the order: "What are you all standing around for? Go grab that computer from her!"

"Can any of you afford to pay for damage to company property?"

She pointed at the coworkers around her. "Anyone who wants to resign alongside her is welcome to come help her!"

Everyone lowered their heads in unison and pretended to work.

Two security guards pinned me down, and Agatha unlocked my computer with ease, using Abraham's birthday.

She clicked around a few times carelessly. "Nothing worth looking at, really." Then she held it out to me.

But I was being held, and couldn't reach to take it.

She smiled, and let go. The laptop dropped to the floor.

Her high heel came down on the screen, and it shattered to pieces.

"That way nobody has to worry about you hiding anything!"

My coworkers all sucked in a sharp breath. Everyone knew a designer's computer was as precious as her own life.

I wrenched free of the hands holding me, lunged forward, and slapped Agatha across the face.

"Who told you to touch my laptop? Have I been too easy on you?"

"You dare hit me?"

"You bet I dare!"

I grabbed a fistful of her hair with one hand and swung at her face with the other.

The next second my wrist was caught and my whole body went flipping to the floor.

My arm slammed against the ground, the joint giving a sharp crack, and the pain whited out my vision.

Before I could recover, Abraham's furious voice came roaring down at me.

"Winona, what the hell has gotten into you? This is the office! Not some catfight in the street!"

I gritted my teeth and glared up at him. "She smashed my laptop!"

Abraham went silent at once.

Agatha put on her wounded little act. "I was only afraid she'd walk off with company files. How was I to know it'd slip and break? And then she just lost it."

Abraham's heart melted for her instantly.

"It's fine. I'll handle this."

But when his eyes landed on the laptop on the floor, his right hand tightened without his meaning it to.

"She went a little too far, sure, but Agatha did it for the company. If you'd just handed over the templates, the laptop never would've gotten broken."

Suddenly I understood.

Today's whole scene was something he'd quietly allowed, all to copy off my personal files.

And I understood something else too. They were never going to let me walk out of here with my laptop intact.

So even if I destroyed everything I'd poured my heart into, there was no way I'd hand it to them for free.

I let out a cold laugh and dragged myself up off the floor.

Abraham immediately threw out an arm to shield Agatha, his eyes full of wary suspicion.

I ignored him. I just picked up the laptop and hurled it against the floor with all my strength.

It didn't shatter, so I picked it up and slammed it down again.

Until the fragments had cut my hands open and bloody.

Until not even God himself could ever put it back together.

"Satisfied now?" I asked Abraham.

At last a flicker of panic showed in his eyes.

After all, this was the laptop he'd bought me with his very first paycheck, years ago.

I'd always treasured it.

That time, in the downpour, I'd let myself get soaked to the bone while the umbrella kept the laptop perfectly dry.

And now I'd smashed it to pieces with my own hands.

"Winona, I..."

I turned, picked up the water cup, and tossed it down at his feet.

"Forgot you bought this too. Here, take it back."

I gave him one long, deep look, then said, "Goodbye, Mr. Delgado."

With that, under the stares of him and all my coworkers, I turned and walked away.