Chapter 3The Intern's Betrayal

My voice was raw, but in a crowded bar, no one pays attention to a drunk’s ravings.

The bartender pushed another drink towards me. “Sir, you’ve had too much.”

“None of your damn business!”

I grabbed the glass and downed it. The alcohol churned in my stomach, but my mind was becoming painfully clear.

I don’t know how much time passed before I felt hands lifting me up.

Through my blurry vision, I saw a pair of slender but strong hands hauling me out by the arm.

The next day, I walked into the office with a splitting headache.

As I pushed open my office door, I was met with the averted gazes of several colleagues.

It seemed the “customs incident” had already made the rounds, though no one dared mention it to my face.

My office was separated from Kendra’s by only a hallway, the glass-wall design leaving nothing hidden. I tried to force myself not to look, but my eyes were drawn to her office like a magnet.

Jackson stood by her desk, a stack of files in his arms. He was leaning in close, his lips almost touching her ear. Whatever he said made her laugh softly.

She even reached up to straighten his crooked tie, a gesture so familiar it looked like it had been performed a thousand times.

My knuckles whitened around the pen in my hand. A large black blot of ink spread across the document on my desk.

“Mr. Reilly, this contract needs your signature.”

My assistant tiptoed in, but my dark expression made her take a step back.

“Leave it,” I said without looking up.

She put the file down and glanced nervously across the hall, but ultimately decided to keep her mouth shut and left.

At noon, I went to the break room for coffee and walked right in on Jackson clinging to Kendra’s arm, whining playfully.

“Kendra, that new Japanese place is impossible to get a reservation for.”

“But I heard sea urchin is your favorite, so I had a friend pull some strings to hold a table.”

Kendra laughed, poking him on the forehead. “You’re such a sweet talker.”

They turned and saw me standing in the doorway. The air instantly froze.

Jackson let go of her arm as if he’d been electrocuted. “M-Mr. Reilly. I was just, uh, reporting to Director Evans on a project.”

I calmly pressed the button on the coffee machine, not even bothering to look at them. “Reporting on a project requires you to be that close? When did the company start offering tango lessons?”

Kendra’s face darkened. She pulled Jackson behind her slightly. “Ethan, watch your tone. Jackson is just a bit enthusiastic. Don’t project your own filthy thoughts onto others.”

Hot water splashed onto the back of my hand. I barely felt the sting.

I let out a small, humorless laugh, picked up my mug, and brushed past them, my voice low.

“Director Evans, that mark on your neck… your foundation didn’t quite cover it.”

Kendra’s hand flew to her neck, her face turning pale.

Jackson, on the other hand, looked like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, his ears instantly turning a deep shade of red.

Back in my office, I locked the door and threw the coffee, mug and all, into the trash.

Through the glass wall, I could see Jackson talking to Kendra with red-rimmed eyes, while she gently patted his shoulder.

And I, the “petty” husband, was nothing more than the disposable villain in their love story.