Third Wedding, Right Groom のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

Morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows with an almost aggressive brightness. I woke wrapped around Alexander, my head on his chest, his arm around my shoulders, our legs tangled together. For a moment—one perfect, peaceful moment—I just existed in that bubble of contentment.Then my phone started ringing.Alexander groaned, reaching blindly for the nightstand. "What time is it?""Too early for anyone to be calling unless it's an emergency," I muttered, finally locating my phone. Jessica's name flashed on the screen. I answered. "This better be good.""Have you seen the news?" Jessica's voice was tight, controlled, the way she got when she was trying not to panic.My stomach dropped. "What news?""Check your phone. Social media. Literally any news site. Miles gave an interview."I was already pulling up my browser, Alexander sitting up beside me, his hand on my back—steadying, supporting. The headline hit me like a physical blow:"Morretti CEO Opens Up Ab

My first day at Calvert Investments started with champagne."A tradition," Alexander explained as his executive team gathered in the conference room to welcome me. "Every new senior hire gets a toast. Don't worry, it's just one glass. We're not day-drinking.""Speak for yourself," said Marcus Chen, the head of acquisitions, raising his glass with a grin. "Welcome to the team, Lila. We've heard great things about your work."I caught Alexander's eye across the room. He gave me a subtle smile, professional but warm. We'd agreed on boundaries—no excessive PDA at work, separate meetings when possible, complete transparency on any joint projects. We were determined to prove I'd earned this position on merit, not marriage."Thank you all," I said, accepting the glass. "I'm excited to be here and looking forward to working with everyone."That's when I noticed her. A woman in her early thirties, impeccably dressed in a navy suit that probably cost more than my first car, watching me with an

The exposé hit on a Tuesday morning.I was in my office, reviewing investment proposals for a new luxury development project, when my phone started buzzing with notifications. Text after text, email after email, all with variations of the same message: Have you seen this?The article was in the Business Chronicle, their investigative journalism wing. The headline made my stomach drop:"Built on Lies: How Valeria Morretti's Fake Credentials Nearly Destroyed a Development Empire"I clicked through with shaking hands, my coffee forgotten.The piece was devastating. Thorough, meticulously researched, and absolutely damning. The journalist had obtained copies of Valeria's fake diploma, interviewed the "university" that supposedly issued it (which turned out to be a diploma mill shut down by the state five years ago), and traced the timeline of how she'd used these credentials to secure her position at Morretti Development.But it went further than just the fake degree.The article detailed

Victoria's response to the HR reprimand was swift and surgical: she became the perfect employee. Professional, distant, impeccably appropriate. She stopped the after-hours texts. Stopped finding excuses to work late with Alexander. Stopped the casual touches and lingering looks.For two weeks, she was a model of workplace professionalism."See?" Alexander said, relieved. "HR intervention worked. She's backed off."I wasn't so sure. There was something too perfect about Victoria's sudden transformation. Something too calculated in the way she now avoided even casual conversation with either of us, maintaining exactly the right amount of professional distance to appear cooperative while making it clear she resented the hell out of us.But with Victoria apparently under control, life settled into something resembling normalcy. Work was good—I was leading my first major project, a mixed-use development that combined luxury residential with commercial space. Alexander and I were finding ou

The calls started a week after Miles's apology.At first, they were just hang-ups—my phone ringing, unknown numbers, silence when I answered, then the click of disconnection. Annoying, but not threatening. I blocked each number as it came up.Then the voicemails started."You destroyed everything," the first one said, Valeria's voice high and strained. "Miles cut me off. The company's gone. My reputation is ruined. And it's all your fault. You couldn't just be understanding. You couldn't just share him. You had to take everything."I saved the voicemail and forwarded it to Alexander, who immediately forwarded it to our lawyer."This is harassment," he said, his jaw tight. "We're documenting everything. If she escalates, we're getting a restraining order."She escalated.The next voicemail was angrier: "You think you're so perfect with your new husband and your new job. But I know what you really are. You're a home-wrecker. You destroyed my family. Miles was all I had, and you took him