Chapter 2 – The Office of Lies

Chapter 2 – The Office of Lies

Althea Rivera’s POV

The sound of heels clicking across the marble floor echoed like the rhythm of a lie I’d learned to live with. Every step inside Navarro Enterprises was a reminder of the secret I carried a ringless marriage, a love buried beneath contracts and board meetings.

The glass walls of the building gleamed under the morning light, reflecting the image of someone I barely recognized. A woman in her late twenties, dressed in muted confidence, her blouse pressed and her expression steady. I adjusted my ID card clipped to my blazer:

ALTHEA RIVERA – Head of Marketing.

No title of “Mrs.”. No indication that the man who owned this company, the man whose name was engraved on the building itself, shared my bed in the shadows.

“Morning, Ms. Rivera,” greeted the front desk clerk, smiling politely.

“Good morning,” I returned, forcing a small curve of my lips.

As I stepped into the elevator, my heart thudded at the sight of her. Samantha Cruz Marketing Assistant, CEO’s Secretary, and the public girlfriend of Damian Navarro.

She stood tall, elegant in her silk blouse, her hair cascading down in soft waves. She smiled at me, but there was always something behind it a quiet challenge, a sense that she knew exactly where she stood in Damian’s life. Or at least, where she thought she did.

“Ms. Rivera,” she said sweetly as the elevator doors closed, “Mr. Navarro asked if you could send the final campaign proposal by noon.”

“Already on it,” I replied, keeping my tone calm.

“That’s great.” Her lips curved, a little too perfectly. “He’s been so busy lately. Sometimes I have to remind him to eat.”

The words were coated in honey, but I heard the sting beneath them.

I smiled faintly. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just part of my job.”

Part of her job or part of her performance? I couldn’t tell anymore. What hurt more was knowing that she wasn’t lying. Damian did spend most of his time with her. She attended meetings beside him, traveled with him for conferences, laughed with him over dinner. To the world, she was the woman standing beside the empire’s king.

And I I was the ghost behind his throne.

When the elevator stopped at the 21st floor, Samantha stepped out first, her perfume lingering like a taunt. I followed, clutching the folder in my hands as though it were armor.

Inside the marketing department, the usual buzz filled the air phones ringing, keyboards clacking, voices blending into a constant hum of productivity.

“Morning, boss,” greeted Julian, my assistant, with his usual grin. “We finalized the numbers from last quarter. The digital engagement rose by eighteen percent.”

“Good. Let’s keep that momentum for the new campaign,” I said, setting my bag down. “And make sure the pitch deck for the retreat is ready by Friday.”

He nodded. “The retreat’s going to be huge, huh? Heard it’s at one of Navarro Resorts’ private properties.”

My pen froze mid-note. “A resort?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mr. Navarro’s twin brother owns it Lucas Navarro. It’s supposed to be this luxury resort in the hills. Kinda exclusive.”

I blinked. “Twin brother?”

Julian raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? They don’t really talk much. Different fields, I guess. Lucas runs the hospitality side, Damian handles the corporate empire. Rumor has it, they’re… not that close.”

A twin. How strange that after years of being married, I never once heard Damian mention him. No photos, no passing comment, not even a trace of connection.

I tried to focus, but my mind drifted. Damian’s world was built on compartments neat, perfect boxes where people fit where he wanted them to. I lived in one of those boxes, hidden and sealed tight.

At noon, I was called up to the executive floor for the marketing proposal meeting.

Walking into that boardroom was always a test of composure. Every executive sat in polished perfection, eyes sharp, suits crisp. At the head of the table sat Damian my husband his expression unreadable, his jaw set in the same stoic confidence that once drew me to him.

His dark hair was neatly styled, his watch gleamed under the light, and his hand rested casually on the table, inches away from where Samantha sat smiling as though she belonged there.

“Ms. Rivera,” Damian’s voice cut through the air, deep and professional. “Let’s begin.”

I stood, projecting slides while my heart quietly broke.

Every word I spoke was measured. Every glance I avoided was deliberate. Our eyes met once briefly and in that fleeting moment, I saw the flicker of recognition. Not love, not warmth. Just acknowledgment.

To everyone else, I was another employee. To him, I was a secret he couldn’t afford to lose or reveal.

When the presentation ended, polite applause followed. Damian nodded approvingly.

“Well done, Ms. Rivera. I expect this strategy will reflect well at the retreat,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied, the title tasting bitter on my tongue.

The meeting adjourned. Samantha lingered behind, placing a hand on his shoulder as they reviewed documents. My chest tightened, but I walked out with my head held high.

In the corridor, I paused by the window, staring at the skyline. I’d once dreamed of this working side by side with him, building something together. But the dream had twisted into something unrecognizable.

We shared a life no one knew existed. No wedding photos. No family gatherings. Just a certificate locked in a drawer and promises whispered in the dark.

When I returned to my office, a message popped up on my screen:

From: Damian Navarro

Subject: Tonight.

Message: The usual place. 9 PM.

No name. No warmth. Just instructions.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. The usual place his penthouse, where the lines between love and obligation blurred.

Night fell, and as always, I went.

The elevator to the penthouse was private, accessible only by his card key. When the doors opened, Damian was already there jacket off, tie loosened, holding a glass of whiskey.

He looked tired. Beautiful, but tired.

“You did well today,” he said, his tone softer now.

“Thank you,” I replied quietly.

He approached me, brushing a hand against my arm. The touch still sent shivers through me, though my heart had learned not to expect more.

“I know it’s not easy,” he murmured. “But you understand why things have to be this way.”

“Do I?” I asked, searching his eyes. “Because sometimes, Damian, I’m not sure anymore.”

He sighed, stepping back. “It’s about protection. About timing. If people knew, it would complicate things. Investors, shareholders—”

“Or Samantha?”

His jaw clenched. “Don’t start that again.”

“She parades around like she’s your wife,” I whispered bitterly. “While I have to pretend I’m just another employee. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

His silence said enough.

He turned away, setting the glass down. “The retreat will change things. There’s a lot at stake. I need you to focus, Althea.”

Focus. That word again. It always replaced affection.

“Fine,” I said, grabbing my coat. “But one day, Damian, you’ll realize that not everything can be controlled. Not love. Not lies.”

I walked toward the door, his voice following me — low, restrained, almost regretful.

“Althea—”

I stopped but didn’t turn.

“You’re my wife,” he said softly. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

But as the elevator doors closed between us, I couldn’t help it. I did doubt it.

The week passed in a blur of preparations.

Rumors of the retreat spread like wildfire across the company. Everyone was eager it was the first corporate trip in years, a chance to unwind, to strengthen bonds, to build what Damian called “internal synergy.”

For me, it was just another stage to play my part.

On Friday afternoon, as I packed my presentation materials, Samantha strolled into my office.

“Ms. Rivera,” she said, her tone falsely polite. “Just wanted to check if you’ve submitted the campaign files to Mr. Navarro before the trip.”

“Yes. Everything’s ready.”

She leaned against the doorframe. “Good. You know, Damian really values your work. He says you’re one of his most trusted employees.”

I met her gaze evenly. “That’s nice to hear.”

Her smile sharpened. “I guess it’s rare finding someone who can separate business from… personal attachments.”

The air thickened.

“I wouldn’t know,” I said flatly. “I only focus on my job.”

“Of course.” She smiled again, turning to leave. “See you at the retreat, Ms. Rivera. It’ll be… enlightening.”

When she was gone, I exhaled slowly. There was something in her tone something that felt like a warning.

That night, as I zipped my luggage and checked my itinerary, I saw the name of the resort printed at the top of the document:

NAVARRO HAVEN RESORT — Owned by Darius Navarro.

The name sent a strange shiver down my spine.

A twin I’d never met. A place I’d never been.

And a feeling deep, unsettling that everything was about to change.

A week later, we’re on a private bus bound for the resort. Damian sits near the front with Celine, laughing at something she whispers. I sit near the window, pretending to study the presentation on my laptop.

Ava leans close, whispering, “You okay?”

I nod. “Just tired.”

She squeezes my hand. “You work too hard. You should enjoy this trip, at least for once.”

Enjoy. That word doesn’t belong to me anymore.

When we arrive, the resort takes my breath away an expanse of white villas surrounded by emerald hills and a glittering coastline. The sea breeze carries the scent of salt and something wild.

Staff line up to greet us, and at the center of them stands a man who makes my heart stop.

For a moment, I think it’s Damian. The same sharp jaw, same dark hair, same commanding presence but his eyes are different. Warmer. Curious.

He smiles slightly as he shakes Damian’s hand. “Welcome, brother.”

Brother.

So the rumor was true.

I stand frozen, watching the silent tension between them. Damian’s smile is stiff, Darius’s because I now know his name is genuine but cautious. There’s history between them, and it’s heavy.

When Darius’s gaze drifts to me, something strange happens. He looks

at me longer than polite, as if trying to place where he’s seen me before. I look away quickly, my pulse quickening.

Damian doesn’t notice or maybe he does and chooses to ignore it.