Confessions, Contracts, and Consequences

1. The Offer

Marcus Tran’s affair didn’t start in the usual way—it began with a conversation at home.

“Jen,” he said one evening, barely able to meet her eyes, “My boss… she’s taken an interest in me.”

Jennifer Tran raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What, like a mentorship?”

“She, uh… asked me to be her lover,” Marcus said, forcing a chuckle, trying to keep it light. “She says if I agree, she’ll promote me. The company’s setting up an equity pool, and I could get a stake worth over two hundred grand by year-end.”

Jennifer froze. She laughed, but it was hollow. “So what? You want me to say yes to that?”

“I’m being serious.”

“Then seriously? If you’re okay with selling your body, be my guest.”

They both knew she was bluffing. He grinned, teasing, “You care that little, huh? Alright then, I guess I’ll take the offer.”

Jennifer felt her throat tighten. Her husband wasn’t much to look at, not particularly smooth either. But somehow, some fifty-something CEO with money and power had taken a liking to him. And if Marcus really did start something… what could she do? Stop him? At least the money would still come back to their household.

And it wasn’t like the woman was going to marry him—she was already married to someone far richer.

By the time Jennifer realized Marcus was using this twisted “honesty” as a way to justify his affair, it was too late. Her composure had already been forced, and now she had no easy way to take it back.

The next night, Marcus came home late again.

Jennifer snapped, “Did you have fun with your sugar mama?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t you say you didn’t care?”

“Marcus Tran!” she exploded. “If you want to sleep around, fine. But don’t let me catch you. If I do, I swear I’ll make you pay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So… you’re giving up on the year-end bonus too?”

“Forget the damn money! What kind of father do you think our son will see when he grows up?”

He smiled that annoying half-smile. “Hey, you said it. When I end up with no bonus while everyone else cashes out, don’t blame me for being a loser. It’s not that I’m useless—I just have a wife who won’t let me hustle.”

Jennifer hated how he turned every confrontation into a joke. But she couldn’t argue—divorcing at 38 wasn’t simple. Finding him a new job with the same pay? Impossible. Controlling him? Clearly, he’d chosen this path already.

So she took a deep breath. “Fine. Just don’t stay out overnight. And when that bonus comes, every single cent goes to this household.”

He grinned. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

She ignored him and went to wash the dishes. Behind her, Marcus chuckled softly. The CEO wasn’t going to keep him overnight anyway. She had a husband too.

So, in this quiet, unbloody marital standoff, Jennifer begrudgingly allowed it.

2. The Cost of Knowing

After stewing for days, Jennifer came to a realization—Marcus didn’t have to tell her. He could’ve just lied and brought home the cash, claiming it was a reward for exceptional work.

But then the late nights started.

Sometimes Marcus came back past midnight. He ignored her calls but sent casual texts:

“With the execs. Playing mahjong. Sleep tight, babe.”

Jennifer fumed. What kind of woman needs a man every night? Is the whole cougar thing real?

At month’s end, his salary doubled. Jennifer felt sick.

They had some old photos from a company retreat, tiny faces blurred in a group shot. Still, Jennifer could spot the woman—Jane Atwood. Short hair, plain face, minimalist wardrobe. No makeup. No flashy accessories. No “rich bitch” energy.

The richest women don’t care what you think, Jennifer thought. They don’t have to.

She pictured her husband’s body moving over that woman’s—wrinkled skin, thin lips—and nearly gagged.

Ever since his confession, she hadn’t let Marcus touch her. Their life carried on, but something was broken.

Before, when he asked her to drop off dry cleaning, she’d smile and say sure. Now? “You don’t have hands?”

Before:

“Let’s go catch a movie tonight.”

“Sure! I want center seats.”

Now:

“Busy. Ask your mistress.”

Before:

“You need new clothes.”

“I’m waiting for a sale.”

Now:

“Yeah, I better upgrade. My man’s worth something now. Each drop of sperm’s like ten drops of blood. Gotta make it count.”

Marcus never fought back. He just pulled away, emotionally absent. The longer it went on, the more she hated not just him—but who she was becoming.

Then the company went public. Their stock soared. Marcus became a millionaire on paper.

Jennifer bought herself a new car. She started showing up to work like a woman who didn’t need the paycheck. Just a trophy wife, passing time.

3. The Power Play

A few months later, Jennifer got a phone call. The voice on the other end was cold, authoritative.

“Mrs. Tran?”

“Speaking. Who is this?”

“This is Jane Atwood.”

Jennifer stiffened. The boss herself?

Jane requested a meeting, said it was urgent.

Jennifer didn’t want to go, but something in Jane’s tone left no room for refusal.

She dressed her best, hoping to show this old witch who the real queen was.

Jane got right to the point. “You know about us, right?”

Jennifer forced a smile. “Us?”

“Marcus said you were aware.”

Her smile cracked. Jane went on, “You know about his other woman too?”

Jennifer blinked. “Other?”

“I’ve investigated. He’s spending serious money on her. I told him to end it. He threatened to leak our video if I exposed him.”

Jennifer’s heart dropped.

Jane explained everything. She and Marcus had been involved for three years. Lately, he’d grown distant. When she checked, she found out—he had a new girl. Younger. Needier. Demanding marriage.

To manage it all, Marcus had started lying to Jennifer too—faking marital troubles to build his exit plan.

Jane was furious—not because of the cheating. Because she’d been played.

“I can tolerate being the homewrecker,” Jane said. “But I won’t be made a fool. And I don’t share.”

Jennifer felt the blood rise to her throat.

4. The Reckoning

That night, Marcus claimed he was working late again.

Jennifer showed up at the mall with friends. They found him walking hand-in-hand with the new girl—young, pretty, ponytail bouncing, all innocence.

Jennifer didn’t wait. Her group stormed them. Screams. Slaps. Someone recorded everything.

Jane’s people filmed too—quietly, methodically. Within hours, the video hit the company’s internal site. The internet exploded.

Jane never had to show her face. HR simply told Marcus to resign due to “reputational damage.”

Jennifer filed for divorce.

Legally, the company couldn’t revoke his shares, but she threatened him: hand them over, or she and Jane would ruin what little future he had left.

They played the game well. Marcus was left reeling.

Two days later, he came home to find the locks changed. Inside, family elders sat waiting.

He stammered, “You—you—you…”

No words.

After the assets were divided, divorce papers signed, Jennifer finally told their eight-year-old son.

“Is Daddy a bad man?” he asked.

She knelt beside him. “No. He just made some bad choices. Nobody’s perfect. Everyone has moments of greed.”

She paused. “He just… chose the wrong friends. And the wrong enemies.”

What she didn’t say was this: He was arrogant enough to think he could manipulate everyone and foolish enough to try. In life, being stupid or being selfish is dangerous enough. But being both?

That’s fatal.