The Necklace: My Husband's New Sales Director

My husband,Yves Gordon, got a diamond necklace at an auction. It was my birthday. The next day, I saw another woman wearing that necklace. She was Joyce Cherny, my husband's new sales director. That woman posted a dozen shorts on TikTok to show off her necklace.

I commented, 'Nice necklace, but the outfit doesn't match.'

Half an hour later, Yves called me. He berated, "I bought Joyce that necklace! She deserves it! She doesn't need you mocking her for it!"

Another Cheater

My husband,Yves Gordon, got a diamond necklace at an auction. It was my birthday. The next day, I saw another woman wearing that necklace. She was Joyce Cherny, my husband's new sales director. That woman posted a dozen shorts on TikTok to show off her necklace.

I commented, 'Nice necklace, but the outfit doesn't match.'

Half an hour later, Yves called me. He berated, "I bought Joyce that necklace! She deserves it! She doesn't need you mocking her for it!"

If this was the old me, I'd have stormed up to the company and started a fight with Yves. I'd fight that woman who tried to steal my husband away from me. Now? Now, I was just exhausted. Forget anger; I was utterly apathetic to it all.

I hung up, and that angered Yves more. He marched back home and saw me arranging my flowers. He was enraged and speechless.

Without looking up, I said, "You're early. No overtime today?"

My calm response stunned him. Yves asked coldly, "What do you think? Your comment made Joyce cry. What were you thinking, Tiffany Season? Do you have any idea how big a deal Joyce snagged for us?"

"Nope. I just wanted her to stay professional at work. A mismatch between accessories and clothing makes for a bad company image."

Yves was stunned for a moment. He was about to say something, but the air was filled with the sound of something snipping. I snipped off the superfluous branches and arranged the remaining flowers in specific angles. It looked good.

I put my scissors down, cleaned up the trash, and looked at Yves. "Anything else?"

"N-No." He then realized why he came back. It was not to negotiate. He came after me. "I specifically hired Joyce. You'd better watch your tongue around her."

"Yeah, yeah," I said curtly and put the flowers on the table in the living room. I fiddled with it until I liked how it looked, then I started binge-watching my shows.

My overly calm behavior left Yves a little helpless. "Err, I'll get you another gift. A belated birthday present."

"No. I'm not a child anymore. Just get back to work." I looked at him calmly while he seemed stupefied. In the end, he went into his study.

I sneered. We'd been married for seven years, and we were still annoyed at each other. Even without Joyce, he'd find another mistress sooner or later.

I've dealt with so many of his mistresses over the years. At first, I was furious, hysterical, and a banshee. Now, I was as calm as stagnant water. I was exhausted. I took stock of what I had and told my lawyer to draft up the papers.

I'd just printed the papers when Yves hurried out on a call. He only came back in the dead of the night, reeking of perfume.

I'd finished binge-watching my shows and was about to sleep. Yves frowned. I changed into my PJs and went to bed, much to his surprise. "Is something wrong with you, Tiffany?"

I looked at him, confused.

He said solemnly, "Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you ask where I was?"

"Because there was no need for that. You must have your reason for going out."

He had nothing to say to that, and he scratched his head. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"No, it's just in your head. Good night." I was sleepy. The binge-watching left me wanting to sleep.

Yves couldn't prolong the conversation, so he went to the bathroom. I was already asleep when he came back. When I woke up, I saw a box on the bedside. There was a note on it. 'Happy Birthday,' it read.

I chuckled and opened it up. A red key holder. Heh, it's just a free gift after a shopping spree. I tossed it into the drawer and took out the papers. I thought I should change some of the details.

Yves and I had been together for ten years and married for seven. I knew him like the back of my hand. He was a cruel, heartless bastard. After all, he cared more about his army of mistresses than me.