All Chapters of Stolen By His Rival: Chapter 11 - Chapter 18

Chris did not press. He did not need to. The observation itself was the point.I found myself omitting details without planning to.I did not mention that Sebastian had stopped by my office briefly to confirm a figure. That we had spoken for five minutes about logistics and nothing else. That he had thanked me for my clarity.None of it felt like a lie. There was nothing to confess. And yet, I did not offer the information.When Chris asked how my day had been, I said, “Busy.”Which was true.Sandra texted occasionally. Short check ins. Dry humor. A reminder of gravity. I did not tell her about Sebastian either. Not because she would judge me. But because saying it aloud felt like crossing a line I was not ready to acknowledge.Awareness did not require declaration.One afternoon, as I reviewed documents in a quiet conference room, Chris walked past the glass wall and paused. He looked in, surprised to find me there alone. Our eyes met through the glass. For a moment, neither of us mo

After that, we walked toward our respective offices, the distance between us was filled with unspoken tension. Anger, protection, and a silent acknowledgment that this had changed everything between us. Yet outwardly, I remained calm. Professional. Controlled.Once inside my office, I leaned against the desk, closed my eyes for a moment, and let the adrenaline drain fully. My fingers lingered on the folder, and I thought of Sebastian’s fury, of the board director’s entitlement, of my own determination.I had been entrusted with responsibility because of my competence. I would not allow fear, guilt, or anyone else’s power to undermine that. Not now. Not ever.And even as my thoughts flickered to Chris, to the husband who still assumed he controlled every detail of my life, I knew one truth: this was mine. Every decision, every action, every consequence. And I would meet it all head-on.I exhaled again and opened the folder, letting the crisp pages and columns of numbers anchor me. Awar

The project expanded faster than expected.What had begun as a restructuring exercise became a full scale financial recalibration. Vendor contracts. Internal audits. Regional discrepancies that no one had wanted to untangle before. The board wanted precision, and they wanted it quietly.Which meant time.Long hours. Early mornings. Evenings that bled into night without anyone noticing.It also meant Sebastian.More accurately, it meant Sebastian alone with me far more often than the structure of my marriage had ever allowed before.We settled into an unspoken routine. I arrived early. Earlier than necessary, if I were honest. The building was quieter then, the corridors still half asleep. It gave me space to think.On the third morning in a row, I found a paper bag on my desk when I arrived.Coffee. Still warm. And a sealed container with neatly arranged greens, grains, and fruit.I stared at it for a moment, then looked toward the glass wall.Sebastian stood just outside my office, p

I left without ceremony.I told the coordinator I was feeling unwell, which was only half a lie. The room was too loud, my head too light, my skin still humming with everything I had not said. Chris barely looked up when I leaned in to tell him I was heading home. He nodded, distracted, already absorbed in another conversation.“Text me,” he said absently.“I will,” I replied.I did not.The drive home blurred past the windshield, city lights smearing softly at the edges. I kept the window cracked, cold air biting at my cheeks, grounding me just enough to stay present. My phone buzzed once. A generic message from the driver confirming arrival time. Nothing from Chris. Nothing from anyone else.At home, the silence wrapped around me like a familiar coat.I kicked off my heels by the door, not bothering to line them up. The house was dim, orderly, untouched. I moved through it slowly, shedding the night piece by piece. Earrings on the counter. Clutch on the chair. The dress came last.I