When your shift ended and you walked out of the building, you saw his car waiting in front. The same black car as always, imposing and luxurious, drawing attention even from those who pretended not to notice. The tinted window slid down, revealing the stern expression of Alessandro Vitale, your husband, who at that moment was still on an important call.
You walked straight to the passenger door and opened it yourself, ready to sit down—when your heart froze. His secretary was already sitting there, in the place that had always been yours. The woman looked up, a polite smile on her face.
“Mrs. Vitale, good evening.” she greeted, with a false politeness that stung your ears.
You stayed firm. It didn’t matter that Alessandro was still on the phone, not looking at either of you. That seat was yours. Calm but cutting, you said:
“Get up.”
The secretary hesitated, huffed under her breath, and finally stepped out, muttering complaints. Only then did you sit down and close the door. Alessandro ended his call, eyes on the road.
“Why did you let another woman sit in my place?”you asked, unable to hide your irritation.
He didn’t answer. He simply adjusted the wheel and said indifferently:
“Let’s drop her off first. Then we’ll go home to rest.” Your heart tightened, but you stayed silent.
Later that night, at home, he approached you. His arms wrapped around your waist, but you pulled away, meeting his eyes.
“This is the first time you allowed another woman to sit beside you.” Your voice was quiet, yet filled with hurt.
Alessandro held your face firmly between his hands, forcing you to meet his green eyes.
“She’s only an employee. Nothing more. There is nothing between us.” His gaze was cold but steady, convincing. You believed him.
The next day, truth revealed itself in the cruelest way. Alessandro’s assistant let it slip that he had given the secretary a necklace worth 2 million. Worse still, she flaunted it online like a trophy. Anger surged in you. Without hesitation, you called a luxury mall and ordered $20,000 gifts for every woman in the company—except her. And you instructed them all to post publicly: ”Thank you, Mrs. Vitale.”
Social media exploded with mentions of your name. Embarrassed and pressured by her colleagues, the secretary finally went to Alessandro’s office to return the necklace. He received her with a cold tone.
“Did my wife humiliate you?”
The secretary feigned innocence, replying softly:
“I only made a casual post... I didn’t think it would upset her.”
When he checked social media and saw the storm of posts, he understood. Taking her with him, he drove to your house. As soon as they arrived, he spoke firmly:
“Don’t cause problems without reason. That necklace was only a symbol of apology. Nothing more.”
The secretary, playing humble, added:
“It was my first time receiving something so expensive…”
You cut her off sharply, unwilling to hear more:
“Focus on your work.”
But inside, something broke. You remembered how Alessandro once kept all women at a distance, how your marriage had been untouchable. Now, he was the one tearing it apart.
The next day, you retaliated. You reassigned the secretary to the lowest position possible—until she was scrubbing gum off the office floor.
When Alessandro found out, he countered by moving her to a higher post. That night, he came home and said the words you had most feared:
“I want a divorce. I want to be with her.”
Time passed, and you carried on with your life. One evening, in a quiet café, you sat by the window, lost in thought.
When you looked up, you saw him. He looked worn, nothing like the proud man you once knew. He stopped in front of you, hesitation in his eyes, and his voice came out low and rough:
“I thought I could replace you, but I was a fool. You are the only woman who ever mattered.”