Chapter 3: Office Games & Shifting Shadows

Curious about what this so-called 'leading lady' looked like, I got up early and went to Jason’s company. I took extra care getting dressed—black pencil skirt, silk blouse, hair curled big and bold. Before stepping out of the car, I checked my reflection in the glass, adjusted my skirt, and gave myself a silent pep talk: You’re Emily Carter. You belong here.

Taking his private elevator, I went straight to his office. The security guard recognized me, nodded, and even gave a little salute—perk of being the boss’s wife, I guess.

Jason’s assistant, Amanda, looked surprised to see me, then beamed. "Mrs. Carter! Didn’t expect to see you here—did Jason forget his lunch again?" She wore bright lipstick and carried a mug that screamed #GirlBoss.

I flicked my big, wavy hair, took off my sunglasses, and played mysterious. "What, am I not welcome?" I let my voice go playful, the way southern belles do on reality TV.

"Of course you are! I’ll let Mr. Carter know right away." Amanda reached for the phone, all business, but I pressed her hand down with a wink. "No need. I’ll go in myself." I wanted to see the scene with my own eyes, without any warning.

With that, I turned and headed toward Jason’s office, heels clicking on the polished floor. I passed a framed photo of last year’s company retreat at Lake Tahoe—smiling faces, matching polo shirts, all pretending the world was simple.

But before I got there, I heard a young woman’s sweet voice from inside: "Mr. Carter, you can’t skip lunch. It’s bad for your health." She sounded fresh out of college, like she still believed she could change the world with a smile.

Then Jason’s slightly hoarse voice: "Not hungry." His tone was the same one he used when I tried to get him to eat kale.

"I made some chicken noodle soup for you, Mr. Carter. Please try some." The words were syrupy, thick with good intentions. I could almost see the steam rising from the thermos.

Peeking through the crack in the door, I saw a girl in a white dress leaning over Jason’s desk, sliding a pink lunch box toward him. She had a tote bag slung over her shoulder—embroidered with a faded college logo—and clutched a Starbucks cup with her name misspelled in black marker. Jason rubbed his forehead, glancing at the lunchbox with indifference. I recognized that look—polite, but a million miles away. Still, the scene stung in a way I hadn’t expected.

Apparently, getting close to Jason triggered the comments. They were exploding now, my vision filling with digital confetti.

[Ahhh, chicken noodle soup! Isn’t this the scene where the leads end up making soup and making out in the kitchen?]

[After eating this, the male lead finally warms up to the heroine, right?]

[Such a cliché.]

[The size difference between the leads—I want to fast-forward to the part where the male lead teases the heroine.]

[I’ll pay for early access!]

[But honestly, I feel a little bad for the supporting character.]

[What’s the point of pitying her? Kick the villainous supporting character out!]

Reading those comments, I got angry. Me, a gorgeous young woman, already stuck as the villain, and now they want to kick me out too? My jaw clenched. I straightened my shoulders, letting my competitive edge blaze through. Today, I wasn’t letting anyone push me aside.

I pushed open the door. The sound of my red stilettos echoed as the two looked up. I tossed my hair back, letting the sunlight hit just right, and fixed them both with my best ice-queen smile.

Jason’s calm eyes flickered with something I couldn’t catch, then he spoke coolly. "What are you doing here?" His face was unreadable, but his knuckles were white against the desk.

I curled my red lips, glancing at the woman beside him. "Of course I came to check if my husband’s eating well." I let the word ‘husband’ hang in the air, like perfume.

The woman smiled nervously at me. I looked her up and down—fair skin, not striking features, but put together she looked fresh and cute. She clutched her purse a little tighter, and for a second, I almost felt bad for her.

I asked, curious, "Who’s this?" I kept my tone light, but inside I was already bracing for the answer.

Jason’s voice was flat. "New secretary, Jenna." He didn’t look at either of us, just stared at the soup like it held the secrets of the universe.

Jenna fiddled with her tote, then looked me up and down with a tiny smirk. "So, you’re the new girl everyone’s talking about?" Her voice was sugary, but the look in her eyes was pure competition.

Jason waved her away. "You can go." He sounded tired, like he’d already sat through this scene a hundred times.

My heart sank. He hadn’t introduced me as his wife. Jenna’s eyes flicked to my left hand, searching for a wedding ring. Not a word about ‘Emily, my wife’—just left me hanging. In that moment, I felt every inch the villainous supporting character.

[Why do the leads have zero chemistry?]

[The heroine is pretty proactive.]

[The male lead has a family, so he won’t let himself make a mistake, but he can’t help being moved.]

[The supporting character just walked in on 18cm heels—what a queen.]

[Hahahahahaha.]

Jason’s hoarse voice interrupted my thoughts. "Have you eaten?" He glanced at me, tone softening for a split second.

I shook my head. Jason stood, put on his jacket, walked over, and said, "Come on, I’ll take you to eat." He didn’t offer his arm, didn’t look back at Jenna—just kept walking.

I instinctively reached for his arm, but Jason said indifferently, "We’re at the office. Behave yourself." My cheeks burned, but I kept my head high, refusing to let him see me flinch.

Staring at my empty hand, I forced a bitter smile. Maybe the comments were right after all. The room seemed smaller, the air heavier. I reminded myself not to cry—Carters don’t cry at work.