After False Abuse Rumors, My Husband Cries Pearls Daily

My supervisor asked why I always left the second the clock hit quitting time. Did I have a problem with overtime?

A thought struck me, and I explained, all pitiful:

I have to go home and cook for my husband and kids.

If I'm even one minute late, that's one more slap.

Sure enough, the boss went quiet. Then he ordered me an express car home.

Later, my coworkers gossiped and asked why I didn't just divorce him.

I told the truth. "Because my husband's pretty rich."

That made them even more depressed.

"If he's rich, why are you out here working?"

I said, all teary, "Because when I'm at work, nobody's hitting me."

Overnight, I became the whole company's number-one charity case.

Until the CEO came back from his business trip, ground his teeth, and pinned me down in his office.

"I hear I've been beating you?"

Caught red-handed by Neal Stephens, I blinked and gave him an innocent little smile.

"Honey, you swore you'd never pull any strings for me at the company."

"And honestly, the way things have played out, this isn't entirely on me either."

Neal laughed out of pure exasperation and hauled me up onto the desk.

He spread both arms and boxed me in tight, then leaned down close to my lips and asked, "Oh? Then walk me through it. What exactly is on me?"

"If you can't give me a reasonable explanation, you go out there right now and clear my name. Tell them I'm not some wife-beater."

I clapped a hand over Neal's mouth, terrified someone would overhear that we were married.

Back at my own family's company, I'd lived like a mascot. Everywhere I turned there were people flattering me and currying favor.

Someone would finish my proposals before I even started. If something went wrong, people fought over who got to take the blame. Even walking out the door left foot first got me praised for being born lucky.

If I kept getting pampered like that, I was going to be spoiled into a useless lump.

That was why I joined Neal's company. Not for any other reason, just to be an ordinary employee nobody paid attention to, and to make something of myself on my own.

So I pushed Neal off and, righteously, laid out several points:

"One. Enabling employees to compete over who can grind the most overtime is not what a good boss does."

"Two. If employees are scared to leave on time, that says a certain CEO has zero warmth to him."

"Three. If I weren't trying to fight this whole overtime culture, would I really have made up something as insane as being beaten?"

Neal was somewhere between laughing and groaning.

In the end he couldn't win against me, and he grudgingly accepted the giant black mark of being a wife-beater.

He bent down, pinched my cheek, and added a condition. "From now on, you eat lunch with me every day."

"Consider it hush money. No refusing."

I nodded. As long as he didn't charge out there yelling that he was Mercedes Sullivan's husband, I'd agree to anything.

But the second I said yes, my supervisor turned around and deliberately ordered an extra takeout, quietly setting it on my desk.

Carissa Simmons, the intern I'd started with, split her sushi with me too.

"Mercy, we noticed you disappear the moment lunch rolls around."

"Is it because you can't afford to eat"

Before she could finish, I was already waving my hands.

Afraid they'd spend too much fussing over me later, I blurted out whatever came to mind. "No, no. I have to go home at noon to cook for my husband and kids."

The air froze, and everyone's expressions turned even more complicated.

Just then, Jason Lawrence from HR lifted his head in the corner and asked, timid, "Mercy, I'm pretty sure your onboarding form last week said you were single."

Now every eye in the room landed on me.

I could only grit my teeth and keep the lie going. "Yeah it's because my husband and I haven't gotten our marriage certificate yet."

"His family has this old rule. If you can't produce a son, they won't let you sign the papers."

"Oh, is that so?"

A familiar voice cut in out of nowhere.

My back went stiff. I turned my head slowly and met Neal leaning against the doorframe, that fully amused look in his eyes.

"I had no idea Assistant Sullivan already had a kid at such a young age."

He strolled over, and everyone shot to their feet to greet him.

He ignored them all, walked straight over, and sat down next to me, then unceremoniously tore open my takeout.

I flashed him frantic looks to get lost.

Instead he reminded me, sour as anything, "Assistant Sullivan, look at the time."

"If you don't hurry home to cook for your husband and kids, aren't you afraid you'll be late this afternoon?"

Under all those watching eyes, I had no choice but to force a smile. "Mr. Stephens, did you come by because there's something you needed?"

He crossed his long legs, sniffed the curry rice on the desk, and said, unhurried, "Oh. I got stood up for lunch."

"Happened to be passing by, and I happened to be hungry."

Neal looked ready to say more, until my glare shut him up.

He'd barely swallowed a mouthful before he turned to the room, all smiles, and asked, "I had an employee point out today that I lack warmth."

"So, in the spirit of improvement, from now on nobody minds if I eat with everyone, right?"

The work area went silent for a beat.

No one but me had any idea what Neal was even losing his mind over.

But soon enough everyone was nodding along.

To break the awkwardness, the intern Carissa steered the topic back to me.

She fumed on my behalf. "Mercy, if you ask me, you should slip some laxatives into that animal's food and just run him ragged till he drops!"

The coworkers around us chimed right in.

"Right? A dog of a man like that, poisoning him would practically earn you good karma, Mercy."

"If you ask me, Mercy should just remarry and be done with it."

The corners of my mouth curved up faintly, and I gave a mild little nod. "Fair point. I'll give it a try next time."

Directly across from me, Neal, who'd been happily devouring my homemade lunchbox, choked at my words and sprayed a mouthful of rice

Ever since he overheard what my coworkers said in the office that day.

Neal came home and turned into a complete brat about it.

He demanded that every single morning before work, he had to hear me say something sappy and sweet with his own ears, or he wouldn't behave for the day.

And if I happened to forget, he made me pay for it every time.

Either he'd show up to deliver my lunch in person, or he'd deliberately remind me in front of everyone: Mercedes Sullivan, did you forget something important today?

Nobody at the company was blind. The rumors started spreading like wildfire, everyone whispering that the CEO and I must have some secret we couldn't let anyone know about.

If I hadn't had the husband-and-kids excuse standing between me and them, I'd probably have drowned in gossip by now.

But of course, the very next morning, Neal's female assistant came in cradling a few dozen afternoon-tea orders and delivered them straight to our department.

The assistant carried herself with a lazy, careless kind of arrogance, and gave a smile that never reached her eyes.

You've all been working so hard lately. I'm here on Mr. Stephens's behalf to show a little care.

For a second I just blanked.

Because I distinctly remembered that this morning before leaving I'd prepared a whole long string of sappy sweet talk, practically babied Neal into mush.

I'd actually been congratulating myself that Neal hadn't come in person.

The second the assistant spoke, my supervisor rushed out and bowed and scraped to her, groveling in a way that was honestly embarrassing.

The more I watched, the stranger it felt, so I quietly tugged the sleeve of a senior coworker beside me.

Isn't our department head half a rank above the CEO's assistant?

The coworker shot me a look and lowered her voice.

Forget the department head. Even Mr. Stephens has to get down on his knees and coax her.

On the surface she's the CEO's assistant, but she's actually the real hidden lady of the house around here. Her name's Carolyn Swanson.

I heard some of the executives saw it with their own eyes. Our CEO handing her her shoes.

When she finished, I was even more stunned.

If she was the lady of the house, then who was I?

Don't tell me Neal had quietly remarried and hadn't even sent me an invitation?

While I was still frozen, Carolyn walked right up to me and looked down at me as she asked:

So you're that intern who gets beaten by her husband, Mercedes Sullivan?

The corner of my mouth twitched with awkwardness. Did Neal pick his assistant with his eyes shut?

With her mouth and her people skills, how on earth had she landed the CEO's-assistant job?

I forced a smile and nodded at her.

And then she actually reached out, lifted my chin, looked me up and down, and sneered:

You do have some looks. No wonder ambition starts sprouting.

The more she talked, the more lost I got.

Just as I was about to ask her to spell it out, she started openly warning me off:

These past few days, the talk flying around about you and Mr. Stephens, you spread that yourself, didn't you?

Mr. Stephens is only being good to you because he cares about his employees. Nothing more.

I'd advise you to know your place. Don't actually think you're somebody and go ruining Mr. Stephens's reputation.

She paused, then added another jab, pleased with her own wit:

Or better yet, hurry home and be a good little wife and mother. At least then you won't have to rush back to cook, and won't have to worry about getting beaten for leaving late.

When she finished, she laughed to herself.

Everyone around us stayed silent. Not one person joined in.

Instead of getting angry, I smiled, took the strawberry cake right out of her hand, and answered her sweetly:

Thank you for your concern, Assistant Swanson, but I've already decided to go back to being single, so I won't need to rush home to cook for a while.

Then I lifted my face again, my smile not reaching my eyes:

Which means I'll be putting down roots at the company every single day, pouring my heart and soul out for Mr. Stephens.

Carolyn was livid, and she stalked off with her face gone dark.

Everyone crowded around me. Some told me not to take it to heart, some worried I'd be paid back for it, and some, all curiosity, pried into why I'd gotten divorced.

But I kept my head down, doing nothing but firing off a message to demand answers from the great CEO Stephens:

Did you buy afternoon tea for my department today?

Neal replied in a second: Nope, sweetheart. Craving something? Hubby will go buy it for you right now!

I tapped out with my fingertip: No need. Some sucker already footed the bill for you.

Neal was thrown too, and quickly asked who it was.

I took a bite of the cake and replied at my leisure: The lady of the house around here.

Ever since Carolyn and I went head to head in front of everyone, she had marked me as her number one enemy.

Any approval that passed through her hands, big or small, she stalled behind the same excuse: the process needed time.

Every single one dragged out to the last possible minute.

Because of her petty games, the whole department got called back to the office on the weekend, burning the midnight oil to rush a new proposal.

No one said it out loud, but I knew perfectly well it was all because of me.

Neal fished around about what had happened that day, asking me more than once, and I refused to breathe a word of complaint.

Because I didn't want to use my status as Neal's wife to fix my problems.

How would that be any different from going back to my own family's company to sit there as a mascot?

But I did press him on one thing: whether he had ever fetched shoes for another woman.

Neal owned up to it right away. There had been one time.

Except the way he told it, he was gritting his teeth. "I warned that assistant the whole way that the big client was a five-foot-tall old man with the thinnest skin you ever saw."

"And she still didn't use her head. She showed up that day in three-inch heels!"

"What could I do? I made the poor man cry by accident, so I just had to eat it and go buy her a pair of flats to change into."

Watching that indignant little look on Neal's face, all my doubts evaporated on the spot.

So the very next morning I went to my supervisor and asked for the toughest account the company had, dead set on becoming someone Carolyn wouldn't dare touch.

In just three days, I not only landed the order, I also nailed down a renewal contract for the next ten years.

At the celebration party, Neal asked me in front of everyone what reward I wanted.

I smiled and asked for a week of paid leave.

Everyone assumed there was no chance.

But Neal not only agreed without a moment's hesitation, he also waved a hand and threw in a three-day package at a hot-springs resort.

Then he looked straight at me and said softly, "You've worked hard lately. Go and rest."

Off to the side, Carolyn dug her nails into her palm out of pure spite and couldn't manage so much as a peep.

After all, she was a fake through and through.

So the more miserable she was, the better I felt.

But somehow, out of nowhere, Carolyn's attitude toward me changed.

On the first day of my leave, Neal had barely kissed my forehead and left for work when a message came in from Carolyn.

"Mercy, I think there may be a bit of a misunderstanding between us."

"I actually put in a request with Mr. Stephens for time off, so I could come soak in the hot springs with you two and clear the air face to face. What do you say?"

Instinct told me a woman like that would never cave so easily.

So I ignored it and treated it like spam.

But her nerve was something else. She planted herself right at the entrance of the hot-springs resort.

It wasn't until I got closer and saw who was standing beside her that I understood what she was up to.

Max Barnes stood at her side, waving at me from a distance with a grin he couldn't hold back.

I have no idea how she dug up the fact that Max and I were old acquaintances.

Whatever the case, she shoved me toward him like I was some object, playing matchmaker. "Our Mercy just got divorced. A certain gentleman had better make the most of his chance."

I put on an awkward face and deliberately edged a little away.

While I was at it, I hurried a glance around, checking that Neal, that giant jealous fiend, hadn't tagged along.

Because if he found out, he'd throw another fit the second we got home.

Max and I had been classmates from elementary school all the way through college, a solid decade and more.

And it wasn't until graduation that he finally came out and told me how he felt.

But by then my whole heart was tied up in dating Neal, who went to the school next door, and I turned Max down flat.

That business account a while back happened to be with Max's side.

By some strange twist, the deal actually came together.

Afraid Neal would mind, I hadn't said a word about our history.

After all, the workplace is about results, not right or wrong.

Besides, nothing had happened, and I'd already gently reminded Max that I was a married woman.

Who knew Carolyn had a nose like a hound and could sniff out that stale old business between Max and me.

Halfway through the dinner, I was just looking for an excuse to slip away.

Then Carolyn suddenly put on a doting-auntie smile, her gaze bouncing back and forth between Max and me, and sighed for effect. "Childhood sweethearts reunited after all these years like the two of you, you must be sitting on plenty of stories, no?"

The moment she said it, Max's floodgates opened, and he pulled me into one memory after another.

Worse, the coworkers around us had all been tipped off by Carolyn, and now they were vanishing one after another on made-up excuses.

The evening breeze, a candlelit dinner, one lone man and one lone woman...

I prayed to myself that Neal would not, of all moments, pick this one to call and check up on me over video.

But of course, the thing you fear is exactly the thing that comes.

Carolyn's delighted voice suddenly went off not far away.

"Mr. Stephens, what are you doing here?"

I followed the sound and saw Neal standing on the boardwalk, his eyes as still as a pond.

His gaze locked onto my side, his voice giving away neither pleasure nor anger. "Who's the man next to Mercedes?"

Carolyn seemed to seize on the chance, quickly answering in the sweetest voice. "Mr. Stephens, let's not go interrupting Mercy's blind date."

"I went to an awful lot of trouble to give the two of them this time alone."

Seeing my face, Max thought I was cold.

He shrugged off his jacket at once and draped it over my shoulders before I could say a word.

I jerked away like I'd been shocked, stuffed the jacket right back into his arms, and forced a laugh.

"No need. I'm hot right now. Honestly, I'm burning up."

Max stared at me blankly, then nodded. "Right, Mercy, your forehead's sweating."

I ranted at him in my head. Of course it is. You'd be sweating too if you got caught red-handed!

Neal was coming toward me with a black face, one step at a time.

I shot up out of my chair and hurried the whole way across to greet him.

I smiled until my face nearly cracked, and still it didn't buy me an ounce of a better look from him.

For some reason, seeing me so eager to please only seemed to darken his face further.

With the CEO himself here, the employees who had just scattered quickly gathered again around one table.

To squeeze out more time near Neal, Carolyn took it upon herself to order an entire wine list, then proposed:

"Let's play Truth or Dare."

Neal, still staring straight at me, nodded his agreement.

What sin did I commit in a past life to be born a black hole for games in this one?

First round, I landed dead-center on the penalty.

I gritted my teeth and picked truth, to play it safe.

Carolyn asked if there was anyone in the room I liked.

I nodded without hesitation, throwing looks at Neal as hard as I could to show him my heart, hoping to soothe that wounded little heart of his.

Instead the whole table read it wrong and burst into knowing catcalls aimed at me and Max.

And I couldn't understand what Max had to blush about!

My heart sank. I knew the night was completely done for.

Sure enough, the second penalty fell on me too.

I was about to pick truth again when everyone pinned the idea down hard. "Dare. This round you have to pick dare!"

I steeled myself and chose dare.

Then the whole crowd started chanting in unison. "Kiss Max! Kiss him! Kiss him!"

I froze on the spot.

Almost the same instant, my phone buzzed like mad.

Neal, dripping with jealousy, sent me a message.

"Mercedes Sullivan, you dare kiss him? I swear I'll drop dead in front of you right now!"