One wrong letter on a booking confirmation. That was all it took for the secretary to send my in-laws straight into a flood zone.
Roads destroyed. Disease spreading. And then came the call—my mother- and father-in-law, stranded, begging for help.
I rushed to arrange a charter flight to bring them home, only to be stopped cold at the finance department door by Emily Summers herself.
"A two-million-dollar charter request?" She looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "The company doesn't have that kind of money lying around. And even if it did, this doesn't fall under reimbursable expenses. Mrs. Mason, please don't make our lives harder than they already are."
She rejected it without a second thought. Then she planted herself in front of the finance team like she owned the place, ordering them not to release a single cent, trampling over me with every word.
"Mrs. Mason, you've been playing housewife for so long you've forgotten how the corporate world works. Maybe stop embarrassing yourself and let the professionals handle things."
I lost it.
My palm connected with her cheek so hard the sound echoed through the corridor.
……
And that slap cost me my marriage.
Hudson didn't show up early. He didn't show up late. He showed up at the exact moment my hand left Emily's face.
He'd just wrapped up an international conference call. The deal must have gone well—there was a trace of a smile on his lips when he stepped off the elevator. It vanished the instant he saw Emily clutching her cheek.
In front of the entire company, Hudson Mason strode toward me, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.
"Sybilla Delgado, have you completely lost your mind? What kind of scene are you making in my office?"
He cupped Emily's face with his thumb, stroking the reddened skin with a tenderness I hadn't seen in years. His eyes were soft, almost aching—and he didn't care that every employee on the floor was watching.
Emily, of course, played her part beautifully. She scrambled to her feet, all trembling hands and wide, wounded eyes, putting on a pitiful little performance while begging Hudson not to be angry on her account.
"Mr. Mason, you work so hard already. Please don't get upset over something this small. Just pretend you didn't see it, okay?"
"How am I supposed to pretend I didn't see this?"
Hudson's voice had gone hoarse. He shot me a look over his shoulder, barely containing his fury. If looks could kill, I would have died several times over.
But I didn't have time for his temper. I had people to save.
The news reports were piling up, one after another. Casualty numbers climbing. The disaster zone expanding by the hour. Floodwaters carrying disease in every direction. The whole region was in chaos.
My in-laws were simple people. They didn't know anyone out there. They barely spoke without their regional accent slipping through. And both of them had chronic conditions—if the stress triggered a flare-up, it could be fatal.
I pushed past Emily and shoved the expense authorization form into Hudson's hands. I barely got half a sentence out before he tore it to shreds without even glancing at it.
"Hudson, this is urgent. Your parents are in danger—"
"Don't you dare use my parents as leverage. That's your only trick, isn't it? Piss me off, then hide behind them. Have you no shame?"
Two sentences. Sharp as a knife. Then he grabbed Emily's hand and walked away.
I chased after him, shouting at his back, begging him to sign off on the two million. Every single person in that building saw it. Some of them looked at me with pity. A few seemed genuinely moved.
Hudson didn't turn around.
Seven years of marriage, and I'd lost count of how many times I'd watched him walk away like that—cold, unreachable, already gone. But this time cut deeper than any before. This time, something about his retreating figure made my blood run cold.
After that, I couldn't reach him at all.
So I figured it out on my own.
I sold everything. Every designer bag, every piece of jewelry, every luxury item I'd accumulated over seven years as Mrs. Mason. It came to a million dollars. I called the charter company, tried to negotiate—fly them out first, I'll wire the rest later. But resources were scarce in the disaster zone. When the world was falling apart, they dealt in cash, not promises.
Out of options, I turned to Hudson's closest friends. I even brought a lawyer to draw up a formal IOU. All I needed was another million to bring two elderly people home alive.
They agreed immediately. Told me to meet them at a spa downtown.
When I walked through the door, I wasn't prepared for what I found.
Hudson was inside. So was Emily. He was down on one knee in front of her, personally tending to the bruise on her face, applying some kind of restorative treatment with his own hands.
