My Wife Handed My VP Office to an Intern

My VP office was handed over to the new intern, Owen Miller, by my wife. Owen posted a photo of my office on SnapChat, with a caption: “So grateful for Ms. Sterling’s trust! I’ll work hard and live up to expectations!” I immediately called Sophia. “Why is my private office being occupied by an intern?!” Sophia’s voice was slurred, clearly a little drunk. “Honey, it’s just an office. You’re not even using it right now, are you?” I didn’t back down. “Get Owen out of my office. Ten minutes. That’s all you’ve got!” Sophia didn’t reply. Two minutes later, Sterling Group’s most critical contract was abruptly terminated. If someone wants to challenge my authority, I won’t hesitate to let Sterling Group go bankrupt.

Sophia’s calls started hammering my phone, one after another. I let them ring, waiting until the fifth before I finally hit ‘answer.’ Her enraged yell practically tore through the receiver. “Liam Blackwood, are you insane?! That was a two-hundred-million-dollar project! You know the product launch is next week—calling it off now will ruin the company! All this… for one office?!” Five years of marriage, and this was the first time she’d ever blown up at me, all because of some other man. I took a slow sip of my whiskey, feeling the burn as it slid down my throat, a cold dread seeping into my core. “This isn’t about the office.” “Sophia, I want that office back to exactly how it was, down to every single one of my awards and trophies. Don’t even dare move a single thing. Otherwise, Sterling Group will lose even more.” Silence on Sophia’s end for a few agonizing seconds. “You have five minutes left,” I said, my voice ice-cold, and hung up. Two minutes later, she sent me photos. The office was pristine, every single item returned to its exact spot. I immediately called the project lead and rescinded the termination order. But then, I sent Sophia a photo of my own. It was a shot of her home office. Everything cleared out. Gone. Including her most prized possession, that priceless antique she’d just won at auction. The next photo? A close-up of that very antique, smashed to smithereens on the floor. “Sophia, this is your punishment. You know my temper. Don’t test me again.” No reply from her. I knew she was furious, but I was even angrier. Our marriage began as a strategic alliance between our two corporations. Five years ago, she needed Blackwood Industries’ overseas network; I needed Sterling Group’s domestic manufacturing. A corporate marriage of convenience, naturally. It just made sense. No grand, passionate romance. Just a rational, mutually beneficial partnership. “Liam,” Sophia had said before our wedding, her hand in mine, her eyes firm and sincere, “we won’t just support each other in business. After we marry, I’ll trust you, and I’ll respect you.” “I appreciate your honesty, Sophia. I hope for a productive partnership,” I’d replied with a smile. Over five years, we’d gone from strangers to partners, from respect to reliance, and then, a gentle warmth, a nascent love. We’d shared countless nights, wrapped in each other’s arms after draining business dinners. This year, we’d finally had a baby. The perfect testament to our love, and I’d truly believed our bond was unbreakable. But now, Owen’s arrival had shattered every bit of understanding and trust we’d painstakingly built.