A rising star dating the CEO? It was like a cringy office rom-com playing out in real time. Mr. Untouchable had officially been knocked off his pedestal.

Everyone just stared.

A few single girls shot Peggy dagger-eyed looks of pure envy.

Then his voice came through again, smooth as ever:

"I'll call you whatever you want. I've got a whole list—I could switch it up daily. But aren't you at your team dinner? Why the surprise call? Miss me already?"

He sounded soft, all-in, like he'd drop everything for her.

The table lit up with teasing and fake swoons. Everyone gushed.

Except me. I just kept drinking, the wine sharp and dry, burning down fast. My nails had dug so deep into my palm, I'd drawn blood.

Gerard was my husband.

Has been for three years—secretly.

So how the hell did she end up with him?

***

I'd known Gerard for a decade. Married him in secret three years ago.

I used to bring up going public—like, a lot. Every time, he'd shut it down with the same line:

"Danielle Astor, I'm the CEO of Busch Corp. You want people dragging me for dating a coworker?"

Cold. Always the same tone.

Eventually, I got the message—he just didn't want to.

But I kept telling myself it was me. That maybe I wasn't enough yet. That he was waiting until I proved I was worth it.

So I pushed harder. Made it to the top. Number one salesperson this year.

Didn't lose a single deal.

But then the whispers started.

People said I only closed deals by sleeping with clients.

Some took it further—said I catered to their weird kinks.

To them, every win came from my looks or what I could do behind closed doors.

And Gerard? Said nothing.

Worse, he used the gossip as another excuse to keep our marriage in the dark.

Last time I brought it up, he looked me up and down, sneering,

"You really want the world to know I'm married to someone every guy's had?"

That was Gerard. Cold. Cruel.

But now? That same guy was sugar-coating every word for Peggy, doing the whole flirty-boyfriend act just to make her laugh.

And even with their office fling out in the open, he didn't care.

He actually said, "Hi everyone. I'm Peggy's boyfriend, Gerard. She's a little immature, so go easy on her at work. If she slips up, come to me. I'll handle it."

Mr. CEO himself, openly playing the doting boyfriend.

Everyone around us melted.

After the call ended, every head turned my way.

"Danielle, Peggy called her boyfriend—your turn! One call and you're off the hook for drinks!"

"Yeah, let's see the guy who landed our sales queen!"

Peggy blinked all innocent, then jumped in. "I heard you've been married for years, but your husband's still a mystery. Time to spill, right?"

She flashed me that smug little smile.

And why wouldn't she be proud? Her boyfriend was the CEO of Busch Corp.

The same man I married.

She called my husband—so yeah, I couldn't call him now.

I gripped my phone but didn't move.

Just raised my glass—and drank.

The whispers weren't even subtle.

"Calling him her husband? Please. Probably just moans that in bed. Why else wouldn't she make the call?"

"She's got a kid, and this mystery husband won't even show? She's totally some rich guy's secret fling."

"Right? No real family would marry someone like her. Dressed like that? She's a toy. Use her, toss her, done. I even heard she sleeps with clients to close deals. Disgusting."

I kept drinking like I didn't hear a word.

Glass after glass, like that might drown it all out.

This was supposed to be my win. My celebration.

Instead, it was the most humiliating night of my life.

***

Any time I had a work dinner, Gerard made sure the butler, Raphael, left the lights on and waited—so he could barge in and start lecturing the second he got home.

Tonight was no different.

He rolled in around 3 a.m., after the lights had been burning for six hours.

He checked every room before finally opening the nursery door.

By then, I was already out cold, holding Nadine close.

He shook me awake, voice sharp. "Why didn't you wait up? You stink of booze—don't you care what that does to the baby?"

For three years, I'd always waited. Cooked for him. Talked to him. No matter how late.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I didn't cook.

Didn't say a word.

I didn't want to see him. Didn't want to think about why he was Peggy's boyfriend now. So I shut down, tucked myself into the one corner of the world that still felt safe.

Gerard frowned. Clearly didn't expect the cold shoulder.

He sighed and, for once, skipped the usual lecture about drinking. Instead, he tossed a bouquet at me. "Flowers. For you. Like 'em?"

He used to send them when I was upset. Back then, I thought it was sweet. Now? Just felt lazy.

I clutched Nadine and kicked the bouquet aside, face tight.

Did he really think flowers could fix cheating? The ego on this man.

His smile dropped. "Danielle Astor, what's that supposed to mean? Even if you hate them, don't be so rude."

Like flowers took effort.

I let out a low laugh, nose itching, and shoved them farther away. Petals scattered across the floor as the bouquet rolled.

Then I looked straight at him.

"I don't like them—and you still bring them home? Gerard, I'm allergic to pollen. Nadine is too. You cool with making us both sick?"

No fake smiles. No pretending it didn't happen.

Gerard snapped.

His jaw tightened so hard it cracked. He jabbed a finger at me, yelling, "So you're allergic—so what? You're always this damn delicate. This whole marriage was a trap!

"I went out of my way to buy those, and you're still ungrateful! Don't give me that allergy excuse—you're just bitter I care about Peggy! She's fun, sweet, actually lovable. Unlike you."

His voice rose with every word. "What made you think you could ever compete with her? Just 'cause I married you doesn't mean I can't love someone else. Don't act like you own me!

"You make me sick."

Gerard's yelling jerked Nadine awake.

She latched onto my shirt, bawling.

She was still so tiny—her cries barely made a sound, but damn, they hurt.

I rocked her, whispering nonsense, hoping it'd help.

Gerard? Just stood there, arms crossed, looking like I was the problem.

Then Peggy called.

"Honey, when are you coming back? The food sucked. I want your cooking."

Like magic, his whole vibe changed.

"Babe, what do you want? I'll hit the store now."

He started listing dishes, then grabbed his coat and dipped.

Outside, rain was coming down hard.

He walked straight into it, umbrella up, all in for Peggy.

I stayed behind, holding our crying kid, shivering as the cold seeped in.

***

After the party, Peggy stopped me, all smug, waving her phone.

She couldn't figure out why I looked shaken when she called Gerard earlier.

She unlocked her profile and tilted the screen toward me.

"Danielle, what was that look for? Don't tell me you didn't know Gerard and I have been together for almost two years?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't.

She rolled her eyes and shoved her phone in my face.

"So what if you have a kid? You still couldn't keep his heart!"

Her feed? A Gerard highlight reel.

Every post screamed 'he's mine.'

Two years ago:

[Finally got the guy I like! Chased him forever. He only told me he liked me too after he said yes.]

While I was pregnant:

[Boyfriend kept rubbing my belly today. I asked if I was getting fat—he kissed me and said no. Then, teary-eyed, he asked when we'd have a baby of our own. I told him I was scared, and he said we didn't have to.]

Four months ago—two months after Nadine was born:

[He brought up having kids again. I pouted and said I didn't want to give birth, just wanted to play with a baby. Then he actually brought one to me! But that's when I realized, it's not just babies I like—I want a baby that's ours.]

I bit my lip so hard it split.

With blurry eyes, I tapped open the photo from Peggy's last post. My chest caved in.

Nadine—my sweet, carefully watched-over Nadine—had been snatched by Gerard and handed to Peggy behind my back.

In the pic, Peggy was holding a flower to her nose. Nadine's skin? Covered in red splotches.

Heart racing, I pulled Nadine close. Guilt and panic clawed at me. Sleep was out of the question.

That damn bouquet from Gerard? It triggered the same rash—red dots flaring up everywhere.

It hit fast. She was already wheezing.

Her face was puffing up. I gave her her meds, but they weren't working.

I bolted out, half-blind with fear, searching for Raphael.

"Mrs. Busch, Mr. Busch has ordered that you are not to leave the house at night."