My Boss, My Husband

My feet pounded against the floor rhythmically, and my heart raced. I had finally done it—I’d finally gotten a promotion at work, and Andrew, my fiancé, was the first person who needed to know. Walking down the hallway, I clutched my briefcase tightly, grateful that no one else was around. They’d think I was crazy, especially since I was unable to control the huge smile on my face. But who could blame me?

My life was finally transforming into what it was always meant to be—a happy, blissful life. In a few months, I would marry the love of my life, and I’d finally stop being relegated to serving coffee at the company. The tears, humiliation, and loneliness would end. I, Marianne Fairmount, would no longer be my family’s punching bag. I would be the wife of a promising entrepreneur and finally, finally, everyone would respect and accept me.

“Andrew? I have great news…” I called out, opening the door to my future husband’s apartment.

The living room lights were off, and a soft jazz melody filled the luxurious penthouse. I glanced at the large glass wall offering a privileged view of the city, then up at the high ceiling with modern chandeliers cascading down like waterfalls in the dark. Finally, my eyes rested on the fireplace, the main source of light. I felt uneasy. For some reason, a sense of foreboding welled up in me.

“Andrew? Are you home?” I asked fearfully.

There was no response. Even so, my gaze was drawn to the two dirty glasses by the bar near the fire. I approached and picked up one of them. It was half empty, its rim stained with a woman’s red lipstick.

Then I looked down at the floor. A few feet ahead of me past the rug, lay a woman’s shoe. It was a stiletto, with a very high, thin heel. Its sole was red, and the rest of the shoe was black. I followed the trail it left and found the other shoe a bit further away, near a man’s crumpled jacket on the floor.

My lips trembled, and I turned my eyes to the stairs. The trail led there. I climbed them, feeling weak and confused. Each step felt slower than the last. Until I heard it—the feminine moans coming from our bedroom as I reached the second floor.

A part of me wanted to run out of this apartment, to pretend this wasn’t happening, to think that I was imagining it. However, the other part forced me to continue onwards. I walked to the open door from which light shone. I had to see it with my own eyes.

Or maybe not.

I didn’t need to, because what I saw on the bed was worse than the most disgusting nightmare I’d ever had. On the bed I shared with my would-be husband, I saw Andrew between my sister’s legs.

He was rhythmically thrusting his hips into hers. He was half-dressed, shirtless with his pants open for his misdeed. There was no need to describe Amanda—her dress was hiked up to her stomach, and she was moaning in pleasure.

“What are you doing?” I said weakly, feeling like I was in a dream, as if it wasn’t obvious what they were doing.

Andrew and Amanda looked at me, paralyzed with fear. My fiancé jumped off the bed to pull up his pants desperately, while my sister covered herself with the sheets. My sheets.

“It’s not what you think, Marianne,” Andrew assured.

“What do you think I’m thinking?” I asked, rubbing my temple to alleviate the deep headache I had. My chest also hurt like hell.

He couldn’t speak, nor could he look at me. He focused on getting dressed with trembling hands. Tears streamed down my face like a bitter, uncontrollable torrent. There was no explanation for this. No misunderstanding. I saw what I saw—the man I love having sex with another woman. Not just any woman—her.

“Sis, these things happen. That’s just the way the heart is; you can’t tame it…” Amanda said timidly.

My blurry vision focused on her. Like struck by a bolt of lightning, I focused all my attention on her. The agony I felt was replaced by hatred. She was a thief. She had taken everything from me. She always did.

“You had sex with my boyfriend in my bed! How can you not control yourself from screwing someone else’s man, Amanda?” I growled furiously.

“You don’t have to speak to me in that tone…” Amanda pouted, her eyes filling with tears.

“We can resolve this unforeseen issue like the adults we are,” Andrew tried to mediate the situation, as if this were just another corporate negotiation. He had put on his favorite suit, the one woven from coldness and stoicism.

“Unforeseen issue?” I spat out, astonished by the audacity. “You slept with my sister!”

“Andrew loves me, and you can’t satisfy him! Now accept it and get out of our lives! No one wants you in our family!” Amanda screamed at me.

Something inside me broke with Amanda’s words. My hopes and illusions of being someone in our family. The truth was, I never had a chance to begin with. Everyone hated me, as Amanda said. They hated me because I was the eldest daughter of Serge Fairmount, the one he had with his first wife, whom he divorced and promptly threw out on the streets along with me.

Then he formed a new shining family with his second wife and his spoiled Amanda. His favorite, his princess, the one who could do no wrong and whom he proudly presented. Not me, the dramatic teenager who lost her mother too early and always begged for a bit of attention.

“You’re a shameless hussy!” I shouted.

“And you don’t know your place! You’re just as stupid as your mother!” she shouted back.

Instead of seeing things blurred by tears, I saw a deep, intense red.

“Don’t you dare insult my mother!” I roared, charging at Amanda.

I grabbed her by the hair with a wave of anger that transcended me, pulling her brown hair from side to side amidst her screams of pain and pleas for me to let go.

“Let go! You’re such a hooligan!” she exclaimed, flailing her arms, hitting me.

“Act your age! Calm down!” Andrew exclaimed, getting between us.

He pulled me away by my arm, and I responded by shoving him hard to make him let go. Andrew looked at me bitterly.

“Couldn’t you cheat on me with one of the hundreds of women you know? Couldn’t you sleep with her somewhere else?” I questioned hysterically.

“Don’t make this bigger than it is. Leave before I call security. I’ll send your things over tomorrow,” my ex-fiancé informed me.

This apartment wasn’t mine. It was his, obviously. He had invited me to live here a few months ago, right when he asked me to be his wife. And now, he was inviting me to leave, throwing me out on the street at 9 PM, without a home to go to.

The first thing I did was laugh. Both Andrew and Amanda looked at me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had. I looked at the diamond engagement ring on my finger and then at Andrew, then laughed some more. I was left without a home, without a partner, and without a sister. Probably without a family, too.

“Are you breaking up with me?” I asked, my voice sounding strange from laughter. “You’re throwing me out after I caught you having sex with my sister?”

“I told you she’s crazy, Andrew. My mom and I are scared of her,” Amanda said.

“Crazy? I’m ‘the crazy one’?” I exhaled with a broad smile and made air quotes with my fingers. “You know what? Maybe…I am crazy.”

My hands reacted on their own. I grabbed the nearest expensive decorative vase and threw it at Andrew. He dodged it, and it shattered on the floor. That wasn’t the only thing I decided to throw—I grabbed a metal statue and attempted to hit him with it. I missed, only managing to scare Andrew and make Amanda scream more.

“Come up immediately! Marianne wants to kill Andrew! Call the police!” my half-sister shouted into her phone, terrified.

I had about five minutes before security arrived at the penthouse, so I decided to make the most of that time. I grabbed another ceramic decoration and faced Andrew with a manic smile, pretending to throw it several times.

“Put that piece down, Marianne. It’s a limited edition. It’s worth more than a year of your salary,” he tried to dissuade me, backing away.

“Oh, don’t worry. Any of your art pieces are worth more than the miserable pay at work,” I informed him.

Andrew understood that I wouldn’t stop until someone forced me. He cursed under his breath and ran out of the room. I chased after him, knocking over sculptures and pulling down paintings as I did. Every collectible piece I grabbed, I threw at his head, never hitting my target. I even followed him down the stairs.

I wanted him to suffer as much as I was. But my revenge was unfortunately interrupted when two security guards grabbed my arms from behind.

“Miss Fairmount, calm down!” one of the men demanded, his grip hurting my skin. “If you don’t calm down, we’ll call the authorities!”

“Call whoever you want! What can they do to me? Nothing is worse than being in love with a coward like Andrew!” I shouted at them and Andrew, who watched from a distance. He looked exhausted, and there was a fine cut on his forehead. It seemed I did hit him at some point.

“What did that savage do to you, my baby?” Amanda asked, joining us.

“Get her out of my sight,” Andrew demanded coldly, touching his wound. “Don’t let her enter the building again.”

"You bastards! I’ll...!" The threats were caught in my throat.

My father, the great Serge Fairmount, walked into the apartment, his face a mask of irritation. His presence was imposing, and even the guards holding me seemed intimidated. I was shocked to see him there.

I couldn't understand why he was here. But when Amanda shot me a malicious look, it all became clear. She had called him in the middle of the night, and he had rushed over for his favorite daughter. He must have come running, given how quickly he’d arrived.

“Thank God you’re here, Daddy. Marianne hit me and Andrew. I was so scared!” My half-sister wiped tears from her face.

“I didn’t raise you to behave like an animal. Stop disgracing yourself and our family,” he demanded, looking at me with disapproval.

I managed to break free from the guards and defend myself with the truth.

“I caught them having sex!” I shouted furiously. “The only one disgracing our family is Amanda! You've raised a slut!”

I didn’t feel the slap at first, but then the sharp pain hit me. The room fell into a heavy silence, the sound of the slap echoing off the walls.

“Respect your sister. I will not allow you to treat her like that!” Serge roared.

I pressed my hand to my cheek, trying to soothe the pain and humiliation. Amanda looked pleased with herself, though her expression turned innocent when our father turned to her.

“Is this true?” he demanded.

“Yes. We love each other, and we’re getting married,” Amanda announced, clinging to Andrew’s arm.

“Stop saying nonsense. You will not marry your sister’s fiancé. You’ll make us a laughingstock,” my father nearly spat.

Amanda clung tighter to Andrew and dropped a bombshell.

“We’re getting married! We’re expecting a child together!” she proclaimed loudly.

I heard the men behind me gasp, mirroring my father’s shocked expression. I nearly collapsed at the news, and one of the guards had to steady me.

I still wore the engagement ring on my finger. Just this morning, we had been selecting the flowers for our wedding centerpieces. This had to be a joke.