Michael’s eyes narrowed further. “Mr. Lee? I thought I told her to pick up Mr. Wilson. Oh no!” Sophia exclaimed, realizing her mistake. “Am I getting fired again?!”
“Really?” Michael pressed. “Then why wasn’t Mr. Wilson in the room? There was a pervert inside.” He looked at Alex. “About what I asked you to check…”
“Mr. Thompson, the front desk records show the name as Ryan Patel,” Alex reported.
“Ryan Patel?!” Michael exclaimed, his voice rising. “That can’t be right! I’ll call Mr. Wilson immediately!” He pulled out his phone. “What?! You already left?!” He looked at Sophia, his face thunderous. “Sir, I didn’t know Mr. Wilson had already left. So the person Emily Carter went to meet was actually that Ryan Patel, that bastard.” He paused, then waved his hand dismissively at Sophia. “You can go.”
Sophia, shaken, quickly left.
Suddenly, Emily heard a familiar voice. “Emmy!” Her Grandma, looking worried, rushed into the room.
“Grandma! What are you doing here?!” Emily exclaimed. “Isn’t this the person from Emmy’s red book?” Michael muttered under his breath, recognizing the old man from the elevator.
“Grandma, what brings you here? Are you feeling unwell?” Emily asked, concerned.
“I’m fine, sweetheart. I came to refill my prescription,” Grandma replied, then her eyes landed on Michael. “Young man, you’re Emmy’s husband?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Emily Carter, you told your family I’m your husband?” Michael asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“It’s not me!” Emily protested. “Grandma, there’s a misunderstanding!”
“Misunderstanding for what? Your marriage certificate?” Grandma looked confused. “He’s my boss, not my husband.”
“Boss?” Grandma blinked. “Must be my old memory failing. Grandma’s getting old. Made a mistake.”
Michael, still amused, took Emily aside. “Emily Carter, come here for a second.”
“Boss,” Emily said, trying to maintain a professional demeanor.
“Let me make this clear,” Michael said, his voice dropping. “I don’t like you. Nor will I ever. And office romances are off limits. Whatever lies you’ve been spreading, you need to clarify this mess. Otherwise, you’ll only embarrass yourself.”
Emily scoffed. “Who’d even like you? Crazy.” She rolled her eyes. “This is absurd. Let’s go change and head home, Grandma.”
That evening, Emily was getting ready for bed, holding her favorite pajamas. This outfit. Why is it identical to my mystery husband’s? she wondered, a strange feeling in her gut. But the same outfit looks much better on my mysterious husband.
The next day at the office, a co-worker gossiped, “Newbie, do you know why President Thompson sent Ryan Patel to Denver for President Wilson?”
Another chimed in, “Ryan Patel was already fired, wasn’t he? He’s being specially assigned. From now on, he won’t be that dignified manager anymore. He’ll be stuck dealing with President Wilson.”
“President Wilson? Is he difficult to deal with?” Emily asked.
“You’re new here. President Wilson loves extreme sports,” the co-worker explained. “Every year, the company picks brave staff from secretarial dept to handle him. That pervert, Ryan Patel, is such a coward. He’ll probably wet his pants daily now.”
Emily couldn’t help but smile. “Serves him right. He shouldn’t harass female colleagues.”
Michael’s voice cut through the air. “Bring coffee to my office.”
“Yes, sir,” Emily replied, heading to the breakroom.
“Come in,” Michael said when she knocked.
“Your coffee, President Thompson,” Emily announced, placing it on his desk. She noticed a notebook on his desk, its cover familiar. So she is this obsessed with me? Michael thought, looking at the notebook. “Where’s my notebook? Forget it. I’ll organize it digitally. I made myself perfectly clear yesterday. Why won’t she give up?”
Emily, still beside his desk, overheard his muttered thoughts. He’s got bad luck in love. Just reject them outright. Say you already have someone you like. If all else fails, say you’re into guys.
Michael looked up at Emily, a strange expression on his face. “Mr. Thompson, so it’s here with you. Actually, I already have someone special.”
As Michael looked at his notebook, he noticed the radiant smile on Emily’s face. Yes, it didn’t work. He sighed. “You… can you tone it down a bit? Stop being so obvious. Ah. Why is she still here?”
“Mr. Thompson,” Emily said, a blush creeping up her face. What’s happening to me? Why is my heart racing? I’m into guys. “Why is he telling me this? Am I his trusted confidant now? But Mr. Thompson is married. This must be why they divorced.” She felt a pang of sympathy. “Don’t worry, Mr. Thompson. I’ll take your secret to the grave.”
Michael looked at her, confused. “Mr. Thompson, wait, that’s not right. She’s the one who likes me. Why should I avoid her?”
He then called out, “Two people come with me to dine with Mr. Anderson from Hangtong. Sophia, you’re with me. You come too, Emily Carter.”
Emily, surprised, quickly grabbed her things. Sophia, however, glared. “Your coffee, Mr. Thompson. She just started working here. She can already go out to discuss matters with Mr. Thompson.” She scoffed. “Who knows if she’s using underhanded tactics to seduce Mr. Thompson. Mr. Thompson has a wife! Is she trying to be his mistress? Sophia’s still here. Emily Carter, you’ll pay for this.”
Later, at a chic restaurant in Silicon Valley, Michael and Emily were already seated with Mr. Anderson, a notoriously finicky client. Sophia arrived, looking furious. “Mr. Anderson, long time no see, Mr. Thompson. Please, come in.”
Emily, seeing the menu, quickly said, “Excuse me, may I have a menu? That’s all, thank you.” She ordered quickly.
Sophia, overhearing, immediately leaned over to the waiter. “What did she just order? Replace longjing shrimp with spiced peanuts. Swap mu tie for beer.” She gave the waiter a knowing look. “Understood?”
“Mr. Anderson is allergic to peanuts,” Sophia whispered, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Emily Carter, let’s see how you handle this.”
When the food arrived, Mr. Anderson looked at the spiced peanuts with alarm. “Why did you order beer? I requested bijiu,” he said, looking at Sophia.
“I’ll fix this immediately,” Sophia stammered, realizing she’d messed up her own plan.
Mr. Anderson turned to Michael, his face tightening. “Mr. Thompson, what’s the meaning of this? You knew about my peanut allergy, yet ordered so many peanuts? Emily Carter, explain this menu choice. Aren’t you aware of Mr. Anderson’s allergy? Seems Thompson Enterprises isn’t serious about partnership. We might as well call off the contract.”
Michael, his expression unreadable, spoke calmly. “Mr. Anderson, she’s an intern. New hire, still learning the ropes. I’ll have these dishes removed at once.” He looked at the waiter. “Is that acceptable? Our apologies. Wrong dishes were served.”
“What’s going on here?” Emily asked, genuinely confused.
“Remove them immediately,” Michael ordered the waiter.
The waiter, flustered, brought out new dishes. “All dishes are served. Please enjoy your meal.”
Mr. Anderson, still looking annoyed, said, “Mr. Anderson, let’s conclude for today. We’ll discuss the contract another time.”
Just then, Michael’s phone rang. “Hi, honey! About the anniversary gift… Oh, I’ll come home early.” He smiled into the phone.
Mr. Anderson’s face suddenly softened. “Mr. Thompson, my wife’s gift? Was that your arrangement? She absolutely adored it! Could I take some extra for her?”
Michael smiled. “Mr. Anderson, I’m aware of your deep bond with Mrs. Anderson. That’s why I took the liberty to gift her a set.” He gestured to a beautifully wrapped package. “You’re welcome to take this set home.”
Mr. Anderson beamed. “Since my wife has such faith in your company, I’m willing to collaborate! Glad you approve.” He raised his glass. “Mr. Anderson, a toast to you! Here’s to you, Mr. Anderson! To our successful collaboration!”
“Mr. Thompson, I’ll head out first,” Emily said, discreetly making her exit. “Pleasure working with you.”
“Pleasure working with you,” Michael replied, shaking Mr. Anderson’s hand.
“Mr. Anderson, drive safely,” Sophia added, trying to regain some favor.
Michael turned to Sophia, his eyes cold. “Sophia, what’s wrong with you today? Exposing company flaws in front of clients?”
“No, Mr. Thompson! I was just in a hurry!” Sophia stammered.
“Enough excuses. Get back to work,” Michael commanded. “Submit a 1,000-word report to Alex Johnson.”
“Understood,” Sophia mumbled, defeated.
Michael then turned to Emily, a small smile on his face. “How did you do it?”
Emily leaned in conspiratorially. “Come closer and I’ll tell you.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Not telling.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Emily Carter, are you asking for trouble?”
“You dummy,” Emily teased. “There’s a courier.”
Later, in Michael’s black Cadillac Escalade, Emily was clearly feeling the effects of the celebratory drinks. “Can’t hold your liquor but drank so much?” Michael muttered, looking at her. “Mr. Thompson, returning to the villa?” Alex asked from the driver’s seat.
“Not yet,” Michael replied. “Take her home first. Got it?”
“Got it,” Alex confirmed.
“Emily Carter, wake up,” Michael said, trying to rouse her. “Where do you live? Where do you live?”
Suddenly, Alex slammed on the brakes. “Sorry, Mr. Thompson, there’s a stray cat!”
Emily’s phone, which had been buzzing, slipped from her hand. Alex picked it up. “Hello? Emmy, why aren’t you back yet?” It was Grandma.
“Grandma, I’m Emily Carter’s boss. She’s had too much to drink. Could you give me your address? I’ll take her home.”
“What’s wrong with Emmy?!” Grandma’s voice was filled with worry. “Grandma, please show us the way!” Michael urged.
“Go! Go straight ahead!” Grandma instructed, relieved.
As they approached Emily’s brownstone in a quiet part of Queens, Michael noticed a framed picture on the mantle, visible through the window. It was a marriage certificate. Marriage certificate. Emily Carter is married.
Grandma met them at the door. “Young man, here, wipe your sweat. Thanks for your hard work.” She offered Michael a napkin.
“Grandma,” Michael said carefully, “Emily Carter got married?”
“Yes, she said it was a whirlwind marriage,” Grandma replied, a slight frown on her face. “That husband of hers, after they got married, he hasn’t come back all year. Look at this one.” She pointed to the framed picture. “This man right here.” She squinted. “Why can’t I see the face clearly?”
Michael’s eyes widened. The man in the picture was him. “It’s me. Used it to prop up the table leg,” he blurted out, a bit flustered.
“I’ll head back first,” he said quickly, making his escape. You’re married, yet you flirt with me? he thought, confusion swirling in his mind. “Take care.”
The next morning, at Thompson Enterprises, Sophia smirked at Emily. “Morning, Mr. Thompson! Got the cold shoulder, huh? Some think they’re irresistibly charming. Pathetic.”
Another colleague chimed in, “Emily Carter, Mr. Thompson is a married man. Have some self-respect.”
“You’ve all misunderstood,” Emily insisted, her face flushing. “There’s nothing between us.”
“Seems he treats you specially,” Sophia noted, unconvinced.
“I swear! Our relationship is purely professional! Nothing could ever happen!” Emily was desperate for them to believe her. “Besides, Mr. Thompson prefers men.”
Sophia raised an eyebrow. “At least you know your place.”
Michael, walking past, overheard the tail end of the conversation. He stopped at Emily’s desk. “Mr. Thompson. Here’s Director Anderson’s file. You’ll handle the collaboration in three days.” He looked directly at her. “Close this deal and you’ll get a permanent position.”
“Consider it done,” Emily replied, a determined smile on her face.
Michael then caught her eye. “Stop laughing.”
Emily blinked. “Huh? You’re married already. Why smile at me?”
“Are those related?” Michael asked, a hint of a smile on his own face.
“Absolutely,” Emily declared. “Fine, I’ll stop.”
“I’ll make you coffee,” she offered.
“Don’t bother,” Michael said, turning away. “Sophia, you’ll handle my coffee from now on.”
“Yes, sir,” Sophia replied, a triumphant smirk returning to her face.
Later, Sophia delivered the coffee. “Your coffee’s ready, Mr. Thompson.” She then turned to Alex. “Mr. Thompson, I… I have a document here that needs Mr. Thompson’s signature.”
Alex, looking at her oddly, replied, “Mr. Thompson is intoxicated, resting at Champs Hotel.”
Sophia’s eyes gleamed. “Understood. Emily Carter is already on her way.” She made a quick call. “I’ll take Mr. Thompson’s phone soon to message his wife. When she arrives, lead her to catch them in the act. Remember, you must act before the medication takes effect. Ensure Emily meets the wife face to face. This way, Mr. Thompson’s divorce proceedings will accelerate. Emily will be branded a homewrecker and lose Mr. Thompson’s favor. Emily Carter… Oh, Emily Carter. You just wait to be caught having an affair by his wife.”
Emily arrived at the luxurious Champs Hotel in Beverly Hills, feeling a strange sense of unease. Why is it so hot? What’s going on?
Alex, waiting in the hallway, said, “Assistant Emily, Mr. Thompson’s inside. Open the door.”
Emily pushed open the door to find Michael sprawled on the bed, his face flushed. “Mr. Thompson! Emily Carter, what’s wrong?! You’re burning up! Do you have a fever? Let me take you to the hospital!”
Meanwhile, Sophia was on the phone, her voice filled with anticipation. “What? You said Madam Thompson didn’t go? Then Michael Thompson and Emily Carter must have…”
The next morning, Emily woke up with a gasp. “Ah! I actually slept with President Thompson!” She covered her face with her hands. “Does this count as cheating?” She remembered Michael’s condition. “President Thompson’s condition yesterday… He seemed drugged.” She paused. “Wait. A woman texted me last night. But room 506 was President Thompson’s. Is President Thompson my secret husband?” She decided. “A simple phone call will confirm it.”
She dialed her «husband’s» number. A woman’s voice answered. “Hello? Hello? This is my husband’s phone. Why do you have it?”
Emily, shocked, stammered, “Because your husband’s in my bed!”
The woman on the other end chuckled. “Mrs. Thompson won’t tolerate this. She’ll definitely speed up the divorce process with Mr. Thompson.”
