The Mystery Box Held Her Lingerie

The office was buzzing after my colleague Mark won a gold bar from a “heir’s mystery box.” Out of curiosity, I bought one too. My hands trembled as I opened it to find a set of lavender lace lingerie, carrying a scent I knew all too well—the exact set I had gifted my wife, Anna, for our anniversary. That evening, I casually asked Anna about the lingerie. She quickly claimed it had been ruined in the wash and thrown away, her eyes welling up with apology. I held her close, comforting her while my heart froze over. The next day, I discovered her cloud backup—texts with an unknown number discussing hiding that very lingerie. The sender was my boss, Arthur Donovan.

1. The air at the breakfast table felt thick, like syrup. Anna sat across from me, her head bent over her oatmeal, her hair pinned up loosely with a few strands falling around her ears. She was beautiful. If it weren’t for that damned mystery box, I would have looked at her, like I always did, and thought she was the purest woman in the world. “Anna,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence. Her hand jolted, spattering a few drops of oatmeal on the table. “Yes, Alex?” She looked up, but her smile was strained, her eyes refusing to meet mine. “That lingerie set,” I began, carefully peeling an egg, my tone so level it even surprised me. “Are you sure it was ruined in the wash?” Anna put her spoon down, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “Ugh, why are you still on about that?” Her voice was a mix of a pout and a complaint. “I told you, the lace was cheap. It just shredded in the machine, it was completely unwearable, so I tossed it.” “Alex, you don’t believe me, do you?” She stood up and walked around the table. Her arms wrapped around my neck from behind, her cheek pressing against mine. The familiar warmth of her skin. It used to feel like home. Now, it just felt… reptilian. “Of course I believe you,” I lied, patting the back of her hand. “It’s just a shame. I spent a long time picking it out.” “I’ll buy you a better one next time,” I added, a hollow promise. Anna let out a breath she’d clearly been holding and planted a loud, wet kiss on my cheek. “You’re the best, honey! I’m running late for work, got to go!” She grabbed her purse and practically fled towards the door, not even bothering to change into the heels she always wore. The moment the door clicked shut, the smile vanished from my face. I pulled out my phone and opened the cloud backup I’d made. The text messages burned on the screen like acid. [Don’t worry, it’s taken care of. What, can’t wait to have me again?] The timestamp on that reply was from a time when I was in the kitchen, cutting up fruit for her. Just a minute before, she had been complaining to me about how exhausting her job was, how her back ached. Now I knew how she got those aches. I walked over to the balcony and looked down. A familiar figure emerged from our building’s entrance. She didn’t head for the subway station. A black Maybach, sleek and silent as a shark, was parked by the curb. The driver’s window was halfway down, an arm resting on the frame, a cigarette dangling from two fingers. It was Donovan’s car. Anna glanced around furtively, like a thief in the night, before yanking the door open and sliding inside. The car peeled away from the curb, disappearing down the street. I lit a cigarette of my own, taking a long, hard drag. The smoke clawed at my lungs, a welcome, searing pain. Arthur Donovan. Heir to the Donovan Corp fortune. And the only son of my mentor, Richard Donovan. Years ago, Richard had paid for my entire university education. To repay that kindness, I turned down countless lucrative offers to stay at Donovan Corp, becoming their nameless, faceless lead engineer. Their workhorse. I rebuilt their entire backend architecture three times, secured them dozens of patents. Richard used to say, “Alex, you’re the cornerstone of this company. When Arthur takes over, he’ll take good care of you.” This was him taking care of me? Sleeping with my wife, then packaging his trophy and sending it to me as a joke? I crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray. The ember hissed and died. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I wouldn’t disappoint them either.

2. The atmosphere in the office was strange. The interns, who usually greeted me with a cheerful “Morning, Alex!”, suddenly found the floor fascinating whenever I walked by. Whispers followed me from the break room. “Did you hear? The announcement came down from corporate.” “Something about a restructuring in the tech department…” I pushed open the door to my department without a change in expression. My desk had been moved. It used to be in the prime spot by the window, with the best view. Now it was crammed in a dark corner, wedged between the screaming industrial printer and the paper shredder. And sitting in my old chair, with his feet propped up on my old desk, was some kid with bleached-blond hair, furiously tapping away at a game on his phone. It was Donovan’s cousin, a moron who couldn’t tell the difference between Java and JavaScript. “Alex. Just the man I wanted to see,” Donovan said, stepping out of the director’s office. He had that smug, condescending smirk that only old money can truly perfect. “Mr. Donovan. What is the meaning of this?” I asked, gesturing to the sad little desk in the corner. “Oh, just a little company restructuring,” he said breezily. “The tech department needs some fresh blood. You’re not getting any younger, Alex. All that complex code must be a strain.” “Starting today, you’re being reassigned to the Facilities Support team. Your new duties will include… hmm, let’s see… fixing printers for the tech department, changing the water cooler jugs, that sort of thing.” The entire office fell silent. Everyone knew that the core of Donovan Corp’s technology existed solely inside my head. Asking me to fix printers wasn’t a demotion; it was a public execution. They were skinning me alive and stomping on my pride for everyone to see. “Donovan, this isn’t by the book,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice dangerously calm. “The book?” He chuckled, a low, nasty sound. He walked over and clapped a hand on my shoulder, leaning in close so only I could hear. “At Donovan Corp, I am the book.” “Look, Alex, I know you were my dad’s golden boy. But my dad’s old news. This company might still have my family name on it, but it’s my company now.” He paused, his smirk widening. “And one more thing. Your wife? She’s got some real fire in her. For a woman who’s been married a few years… damn.” A roar of blood filled my ears. I felt the veins on the back of my hand bulge, my knuckles turning white. He was doing this on purpose. The mystery box, the public humiliation—it was all a game to him. “What’s the matter? Want to take a swing?” Donovan stepped back, spreading his hands in mock surrender. “Go on. Right here.” He tapped his cheek. “But that one punch will cost you everything. Your mother’s medical care, the house you bought for your parents, your reputation in this entire industry… all gone.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing the murderous rage back down into the pit of my stomach. I was an adult. And in the adult world, violence was the last resort of the powerless. I was going to make him pay a price a thousand times more painful than a broken jaw. “You have a point, Mr. Donovan,” I said, unclenching my fists and forcing a smile. “I’ll follow the company’s arrangements.” Donovan blinked, clearly surprised by my compliance. A flicker of disappointment crossed his face; the show was over too soon. “Well, alright then. Since you’re being so cooperative, I have the perfect first assignment for you.” He picked up a folder from his desk and tossed it at my chest. “We’re having some issues at the new data center out west. We need someone on-site to oversee things.” “Your flight leaves tonight. I already had my assistant book the ticket.” The western data center. The middle of nowhere. It was a construction project, a job for civil engineers, not for a lead software architect. He was getting me out of the way. And it was painfully obvious what he planned to do with his free time. I bent down, picked up the folder, and brushed the dust from the cover. “Alright. I’ll go.” Donovan grinned, a triumphant, predatory expression. “That’s the spirit, Alex. You’ve got to learn your place.” He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “And don’t worry. I’ll be sure to ‘take good care’ of your dear wife while you’re away.” A few snickers echoed from his cronies nearby. I turned and walked away without looking back.

3. When I got home, the lights were off, but the apartment was flickering with candlelight. The dining table was covered with a lace tablecloth we rarely used, set with steak and a bottle of red wine. Anna was wearing a backless black evening gown, her makeup done to perfection. The moment she saw me, she rushed over and took my briefcase. “Honey, you’re home!” she chirped. “I know you’ve been so stressed at work lately, so I thought I’d make us a special candlelit dinner.” She led me to the table, eagerly pouring me a glass of wine. The flickering candlelight danced across the face I had loved for five years. Before yesterday, this gesture might have moved me to tears. “What’s the special occasion?” I asked, cutting into my steak. It was rare, bleeding onto the plate. “I just… felt like I’ve been neglecting you lately,” she said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, her movements just a little too jerky. “Alex, I know you’re still upset about the lingerie. I promise you, I will only ever love you. No matter what happens, my heart is always yours.” She reached across the table and placed her hand over mine. Her palm was damp, and I could feel a slight tremor. She was scared. Scared of what? That I’d find out the truth? Or that Donovan was putting too much pressure on her? I stared at her for a long moment. “Anna, what if…” I was about to test the waters when my phone, sitting on the table, buzzed. Anna snatched her hand back as if she’d been burned, grabbing her own phone instantly. The moment she saw the caller ID, the color drained from her face. She declined the call. A second later, it buzzed again. A video call this time. “Who is it? Why aren’t you answering?” I asked, putting down my fork, playing dumb. “Oh… it’s, uh, a telemarketer. So annoying,” she stammered, fumbling to silence the call and flipping the phone face down on the table. “Honey, my stomach suddenly feels a little upset. I’m just going to use the restroom.” She grabbed her phone and bolted for the bathroom. I couldn’t hear what she was saying through the closed door, but I didn’t need to. I knew it was Donovan. I pulled out my own phone and opened an app. It was for the drone I’d bought a few weeks back, a high-end model with night vision and auto-follow capabilities. Five minutes later, Anna emerged from the bathroom. She had already changed out of the evening gown and was now in a tracksuit and a baseball cap. “Alex, my… my friend Sarah just texted. She broke up with her boyfriend and is getting wasted at a bar. She needs me to go pick her up.” Her acting was atrocious. She couldn’t even look me in the eye. “It’s late. I’ll drive you,” I said, standing up. “No, no!” Her reaction was visceral; she actually took a step back. “I can just get an Uber. You have work tomorrow, you should get some rest.” Before I could protest further, she grabbed her keys from the entryway and hurried out the door. I didn’t move. I just sat there at the table, alone with the dying candles, and picked up the drone controller. The drone on the balcony lifted silently into the night sky. On the screen, I watched her familiar figure jog out of the complex. She didn’t call an Uber. The same black Maybach was waiting in the shadows behind our building. Anna pulled open the door and climbed in. The car didn’t leave right away. Through the night-vision lens, I could see two blurry silhouettes tangling together inside. My wife, the woman I had cherished, was straddling another man’s lap, kissing him with a desperate hunger. I switched off the screen. My heart, what was left of it, was officially dead.

4. I stood up and scraped the entire, meticulously prepared candlelit dinner into the trash can. Garbage belongs in the garbage. I went into our bedroom and opened Anna’s closet. I’d always respected her privacy, never snooping through her things. Now I realized what a complete and utter fool I’d been. Tucked away in the back, behind a pile of old clothes, were several bright orange boxes. Hermès. I didn’t know much about handbags, but I knew that brand. A single one of those bags was worth my entire yearly salary. I opened her jewelry box. A Cartier bracelet. A Bulgari necklace. A Van Cleef & Arpels clover pendant. All told, there had to be hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of merchandise here. Things we could never afford on our salaries. So, this was her “working overtime.” This was her “performance bonus.” This was her fighting so hard “for our family.” Oh, she was fighting hard, alright. On her back in Donovan’s bed. I took everything out, piece by piece, and laid it all on our bed. It felt like I was curating an exhibition on the art of betrayal. How ironic. I worked myself to the bone for Donovan Corp for a respectable, but ultimately modest, salary. My boss slept with my wife and casually tossed her trinkets worth more than years of my sweat and blood. What was I in all this? A pawn in their sick game? The clueless husband in a twisted joke? Two in the morning. The sound of a key in the lock. Anna was back. She tiptoed into the dark apartment, trying to slip into the bedroom unnoticed. Click. I hit the switch for the living room lights. The sudden brightness made her flinch, throwing a hand up to shield her eyes. I was sitting on the sofa. In front of me, on the coffee table, was the collection of designer bags and jewelry. And next to them, a printed copy of my business trip itinerary. “A-Alex?” she stammered, the flush of passion still visible on her cheeks. She was wearing a different set of clothes. Her hair was damp and smelled of hotel shampoo. “Why are you still awake?” Her eyes darted to the pile of luxury goods, and her pupils constricted in terror. “Th-those are Sarah’s! She’s moving and didn’t have space, so she asked me to store them here!” The lies came so easily to her now. I didn’t call her on it. If she wanted to act, we would act. “I know,” I said, standing up and picking up the itinerary. “Donovan just called me. There’s an emergency at the western site. He wants me on the first flight out.” “I was about to leave, but I wanted to see you one last time.” Anna was stunned into silence. This was clearly not the confrontation she had been expecting. As she looked at my calm face, the panic in her eyes slowly morphed into something else. Guilt? Or was it relief? “It’s that urgent…?” she murmured, stepping forward, reaching out as if to straighten my collar. I subtly sidestepped her touch. “Yes. Very.” “You take care of yourself while I’m gone.” I picked up the suitcase I’d already packed and walked toward the door. “Alex!” she called out from behind me. I paused, my hand on the doorknob, but I didn’t turn around. “What is it?” “Be safe… and come home soon.” Her voice was trembling. A cold, humorless smile touched my lips. Come home soon? To watch more of your little show? “Don’t worry,” I said as I opened the door and stepped into the darkness of the hallway. “By the time I get back, everything will be over.” Behind me, Anna suddenly clutched her chest, a wave of inexplicable dread washing over her. I didn’t go to the airport. I hailed a cab and went straight to a 24-hour gaming cafe downtown. I got a private booth and booted up the computer. The moment my fingers touched the keyboard, I felt alive again. You want to corner me? Fine. I’ll leave you with nowhere to run. I took out a burner phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. It was Richard Donovan’s private line. “Hello? Who is this?” Richard’s voice, though aged, was still full of authority. “Mr. Donovan, it’s Alex.” “Alex? What’s going on this late at night?” “Nothing major,” I said, my eyes fixed on the streams of code scrolling rapidly down the monitor, my voice as cold as the hum of the machine. “I’m just calling to inform you of something.” “The money you gave me for my education, plus ten years of interest… I’ve paid it back a hundredfold with my work over the last decade.” “As of this moment, I owe the Donovan family nothing.” “And for what I’m about to do next… I sincerely hope you’re prepared.”