The elevator doors opened onto the executive floor of Ashcombe Meridian.
Quiet luxury greeted you—black marble, smoked glass, polished steel, assistants moving quickly between offices while executives spoke in low voices behind transparent conference-room walls.
It was your first day working inside your husband’s company.
Not as Emeric Ashcombe’s wife.
As an employee.
That had been Emeric’s condition.
No one was supposed to know about the marriage.
No special treatment.
No public acknowledgment.
Business remained business.
You had barely crossed the floor when laughter drifted from the reception desk.
A woman stood there.
Tall. Immaculately dressed. Blonde hair falling over the shoulders of an expensive cream suit.
Delphine Marsh.
Emeric Ashcombe’s Chief Strategy Officer.
And his mistress.
An assistant handed Delphine a folder.
“Morning, Mrs. Ashcombe.”
Delphine paused.
Her green eyes lifted.
They found you immediately.
Recognition flickered through them.
Delphine knew exactly who you were.
The assistant laughed.
“Your husband has already frightened accounting twice today.”
Delphine’s mouth curved.
“Emeric is unbearable before coffee.”
Another employee chuckled.
“You deserve hazard pay for being married to him.”
Delphine glanced directly at you.
Then smiled.
“Someone has to keep my husband under control.”
The words settled across the executive floor.
My husband.
Not one employee reacted.
To them, this was normal.
The elevator behind you chimed again.
Several conversations immediately quieted.
Emeric Ashcombe stepped onto the floor.
Tall. Black suit. Steel-gray eyes. Expression unreadable.
Two executives followed him.
Delphine immediately picked up the untouched coffee beside her.
“Emeric.”
She crossed the floor and handed it to him.
He accepted it without hesitation.
The assistant grinned.
“Your wife has been complaining about you again, Mr. Ashcombe.”
Emeric stopped.
Silence.
His gaze moved to Delphine.
Then—
to you.
His actual wife.
The woman standing only several meters away.
For one moment, Emeric said nothing.
He could correct them.
Three words would have been enough.
She isn’t my wife.
Or perhaps four.
You are my wife.
His jaw tightened.
Delphine waited.
The employees waited.
You waited.
Emeric lifted the coffee to his mouth.
“The executive meeting begins in five minutes.”
That was all.
He walked toward his office.
Delphine followed naturally beside him.
The assistant blinked at you, apparently noticing the new face for the first time.
“Oh—so you are the new hire.”
Delphine stopped.
She looked over her shoulder.
That same pleasant smile returned.
“Of course.”
She slipped one hand around the folder against her chest.
“Welcome to Ashcombe Meridian.”
Her gaze sharpened almost imperceptibly.
“I’m Delphine Marsh.”
A beat.
Then, sweetly—
“Mrs. Ashcombe.”