Husband Took His Mistress to a Business Meeting — But the New CEO Walked In…
Marcus Thorn adjusted his thousand-dollar tie, a predator sizing up his domain. The polished mahogany of the boardroom table reflected his confident smirk. Beside him, his beautiful, ambitious protégé, Tiffany, gave his hand a subtle squeeze under the table.
This meeting was his kingmaker. He was about to present his five-year growth strategy to the mysterious new CEO of their parent company, Vanguard Holdings. A promotion to Senior Vice President was practically in his pocket.
He just had to impress some corporate titan he’d never met. He leaned over to his rival, David Chen, whispering with a smug chuckle.
“Wish my wife could see this. She thinks my biggest decision of the day is what to have for dinner.”
Little did he know, the biggest decision of his day had already been made for him by the very woman he so casually dismissed. The boardroom doors were about to open, and his entire world was about to burn to the ground.
The morning sun, pale and indifferent, streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse Marcus Thorn called home. It was a space designed for a magazine cover: all sharp lines, muted colors, and cold, impersonal art. It was a testament to success, a monument to ambition, and as sterile as an operating theater.
Marcus stood before a full-length mirror, knotting a silk tie the color of spilled wine. Every movement was precise and practiced, a reflection of a man who believed he was in complete control of his universe.
“Catherine, have you seen my sterling silver cufflinks, the ones from the Geneva trip?” he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous living area.
He didn’t turn; he simply watched his own reflection, admiring the cut of his Italian suit. From the kitchen, a space of gleaming stainless steel and marble that rarely saw any actual cooking, Catherine Vance emerged.
She was dressed in simple gray yoga pants and a soft-worn cotton T-shirt. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and her face was devoid of makeup. To an outsider, she was the picture of understated stay-at-home comfort.
To Marcus, she was a part of the decor. He had long since stopped noticing her.
“They’re in your travel valet on the dresser, where they always are,” she said, her voice even and calm.
She held a mug of black coffee in her hands, the steam curling around her fingers. Marcus grunted, finding them exactly where she said.
“Right. Big day today. The final presentation to the new Vanguard CEO.”
He clipped the cufflinks into place, the metallic click punctuating the silence.
“This is it, Kate. The move to the C-suite. Everything I’ve been working for.”
“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful, Marcus,” she replied, taking a slow sip of her coffee.
There was no excitement in her voice, only a quiet, observational tone that he found perpetually irritating. It was as if she were watching a play rather than living in the same reality as him.
“You could try to sound a little more enthused,” he chided, turning to finally face her.
He scanned her appearance with a faint, almost imperceptible frown.
“You know this apartment, your charity lunches, the life you have? It’s all because of these big days.”
Catherine’s eyes, a deep and intelligent shade of blue, met his. There was a flicker of something in them—not anger, not sadness, but something far more complex. It was a look he hadn’t been able to decipher for years.
“I’m aware of what you provide, Marcus. I’ve never forgotten.”
The subtext was lost on him, or perhaps he chose to ignore it. He saw only the unassuming woman before him, the one who had abandoned her own promising career in software engineering fifteen years ago when he’d received his first major promotion.
It was his narrative, the one he’d polished and perfected. Over time, he had soared, and she had settled. He had graciously allowed her to retire into a life of leisure while he wrestled with the titans of industry.
“I have to take Tiffany with me,” he said, the statement sounding more like a declaration than a request for an opinion. “She was instrumental in compiling the data for the presentation. It’s good exposure for a junior analyst.”
Catherine’s expression didn’t change; she just nodded slowly.
“Tiffany Hayes. The blonde from the marketing department? The one you mentored at the company retreat in Aspen?”
Marcus felt a brief, uncomfortable jolt. He hadn’t realized Catherine paid that much attention.
“Yes, that’s the one. She’s bright, eager to learn.”
He conveniently omitted that Tiffany was twenty-six, worshipped the ground he walked on, and had spent the previous evening in a hotel room with him celebrating their pre-victory.
“Well, I hope her exposure is educational,” Catherine said, turning to place her mug in the sink.
The words were simple, yet they hung in the air with an odd weight. Marcus dismissed it as another one of her passive-aggressive moods. He grabbed his leather briefcase, the scent of expensive cologne trailing behind him.
