Wife vs. Intern, A Luxury Showdown

Chapter 3

The video conference had just ended.

Ethan Sinclair removed his gold-rimmed glasses and rubbed his temples, a sign of the pressure that had built up over the day.

The office door opened quietly, and he looked up to see Emily Dawson standing in the doorway, her hands clutching the familiar blue velvet jewelry box. Her eyes were swollen, a clear sign of tears.

"Something wrong?" His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it.

Emily bit her lower lip, tears spilling down her cheeks like scattered pearls.

She placed the box on his desk, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Mr. Sinclair, I... I can't accept this."

Ethan's brow furrowed. His gaze locked onto the faint red mark on her wrist—a clear sign someone had gripped her too tightly.

"Who did this?" His tone had gone cold, his anger simmering.

Emily quickly tugged her sleeve down, but the tears kept falling.

"Today... Mrs. Sinclair came to the office."

Her voice was barely a whisper.

"She saw me wearing the necklace and... got furious..."

Ethan's expression darkened.

He rarely paid attention to office gossip, but now, the pieces started falling into place—the whispers in the break room, the knowing looks in the elevator.

"What else did she say?"

Emily winced, shrinking under his gaze.

"She called me... a seductress. She said I was trying to lure you..."

Suddenly, Emily lifted her head, her eyes shining with defiance despite the tears.

"Mr. Sinclair, I can explain to her! I just... I really loved the necklace..."

Ethan stood up, his black suit only making him seem taller, more imposing.

He walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the sprawling city lights.

"Starting tomorrow," he said, his voice cold with authority, "you'll be transferred to my office. You'll be my special assistant."

Emily froze, the tears in her eyes forgotten.

"But Mrs. Sinclair—"

"I'll handle it."

Ethan picked up the jewelry box and placed it back in her hands, his fingers brushing hers just for a moment.

"What I give, no one can take away."

Emily cradled the box, the warmth of his touch still lingering on her skin.

She lowered her head, a faint, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Later that night, when Ethan Sinclair's car pulled into the gated community, the darkness was complete.

In the backseat, Emily clutched the seatbelt, her hands trembling.

"We're here."

He turned off the engine and glanced at her, his eyes softening for just a moment.

"Relax. We're just clearing up a misunderstanding."

The girl bit her lip, stepping out of the car and trailing behind him like a startled rabbit.

Inside, beneath the gleam of a crystal chandelier, I calmly stirred my bird's nest soup.

"Sophia."

Ethan rubbed his temples, his frustration evident.

"This is Emily, my secretary."

Suddenly, Emily bowed low, almost to the floor.

"Mrs. Sinclair, I'm so sorry! I didn't know about the necklace—"

I set the delicate bone china bowl down, my gaze never leaving her.

"No idea about what?" I asked coolly.

"No idea what it means when a married man gifts jewelry to his female subordinate?"

Her face drained of color, and she looked pleadingly at Ethan.

"It was a reward for her last quarter's performance," he interjected quickly, stepping between us.

"Nothing more."

I let out a soft, almost mocking laugh.

The floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the three of us—a strange, silent play unfolding.

"Ethan," I said, my fingers trailing the silk of his tie.

"Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day?"

His eyes flickered for just a second.

Years ago, before the altar, he'd vowed that no woman would ever come between us.

Emily burst into tears, her voice shaking as she sobbed.

"This is all my fault—"

"Indeed." I cut her off sharply.

"Report to HR tomorrow. You're done."

Ethan's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.

"Sophia!"

I leaned in, my breath warm against his ear.

"Are you really choosing her over me?"

The air grew heavy, tense.

After a long moment, Ethan's grip loosened, his face unreadable.

"Go home," he told Emily, his voice flat.

As she fled, the chandelier flickered once, casting a brief shadow over the room.

I smoothed the collar of Ethan's suit, the action almost intimate.

"Don't let it happen again."

He nodded silently, his expression clouded with something I couldn't quite place.

Outside, thunder rumbled, and the storm finally broke.