I had always suspected my husband was seeing someone else. When I finally uncovered the texts between him and the other woman, I didnt cry, nor did I raise my voice. Instead, I simply smiled. As the CEO of a renowned London consultancy, I knew I could orchestrate something far more satisfying than a scene.
A fortnight later, I posted an advert for an executive assistant. She applied. Her CV was lacklustre at best, but her photograph matched those grinning selfies Id found tucked away in my husbands phone.
On the morning of her interview, I strode into the conference room, clad in my sharpest navy suit.
Youre the candidate, I presume? Please, have a seat.
She wore the blank, polite expression of someone meeting a stranger for the first time. Understandable, reallyhed never shown her a photo of me. He probably spun a tale about being married to some drab, neglected woman.
So, I inquired, voice calm but unreadable, why do you want to work here?
Your company has a stellar reputation and
Just call me boss, I smiled, cutting her off. Were all like family here.
I hired her on the spot.
The first several months were all theatre. To her credit, she was efficient, eager. But nothing compared to the quiet pleasure I took each morning, watching my husband depart our Hampstead home, never suspecting his mistress would sip coffee with me two hours later.
Are you married? she asked one afternoon over a pile of contracts.
I am, very happily, I replied, not blinking. What about you? Any special man in your life?
A pretty blush crept up her cheeks.
Its complicated. Hes going through a rough patch.
Hes married, I remarked airily. Classic.
Thats not it! He loves me, its just
No judgement here, I interjected smoothly. The heart wants what it wants, right?
In the evenings, my husband would ask about my day as usual. Id regale him with office stories, occasionally mentioning, my new assistantshes dreadfully diligent. He never caught on. Its rather astonishing, really, how blind unfaithful men can be.
After six months, I promoted her.
Youve done outstanding work. Id like you to lead our new office in Singapore. Tremendous opportunity. Eighty per cent pay rise, penthouse flat, three-year contract.
Her eyes sparkled with possibility.
Abroad? But I Ive someone here.
Long distance romance can flourish, if its worth fighting for, I said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. And if it doesnt last, perhaps it wasnt really love. Trust meI know.
My husband was a nightmare those last few weeks. Whispered arguments with her over the phone while I pretended to sleep, his anxiety growing by the day. Eventually, she lefttearful at Heathrow, so my driver reported, as if by chance.
Months rolled by. The international office thrived under her leadership; her reports were flawless. My husband, as if seized by guilt, suddenly became all doting attentionromantic dinners, armfuls of lilies, promises to renew our vows.
How tender.
Exactly a year after hiring her, I rang her on a video call.
We need to talk.
She instantly tensed, dread creeping into her features.
Im afraid well have to terminate your contract. Restructuring, you know how these things are.
What? But I gave up everything! My whole life!
I know. Its a shame you chose to leave that complicated boyfriend for this chance. Oh, and I paused. Do give him my regards when you return. Though I doubt hell be waiting. Hes rather busy these days, planning the renewal of my wedding vows.
Divine silence. Her face shifted from shock to cold horror as she finally pieced it together.
You you knew all along
From the very start. Your severance is generous. I suggest you invest in some therapy. And next time a married man claims his wife doesnt understand him, ask if she manages a budget in the tens of millions. Because a woman like that understands far more than he thinks.
I ended the call.
That evening, my husband came home, a bottle of champagne in hand.
Lets celebrate! Its exactly one year since things got so much better between us.
I raised my glass and relished every sip.
I never told him the truth. Why shatter his fragile peace? Id had my fill of satisfaction. And he would never realise that, in the end, my revenge had always been meant for him.
Tell medo you believe cold, calculated retribution trumps open confrontation, or should the truth always come to light straightaway?
