I went undercover as a waitress at my husband’s company gala, but what I discovered went beyond c…

The Uninvited Guest and the Secret Gala

I stood in front of the mirror in the staff locker room at the Grand Meridian Hotel, adjusting the black vest over my crisp white shirt. The name tag pinned to my chest read Emily, which was not my real name but close enough that I’d remember to respond to it.

My hands trembled slightly as I smoothed down the apron tied around my waist. I’d never done anything like this before, as I was a marketing director for heaven’s sake, not a waitress.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. My husband Mark had been acting strange for the past three months, with late nights at the office and hushed phone calls.

He’d taken another room, bought a new cologne I’d never bought him, and displayed the classic signs I suppose, but I’d tried to ignore them. We’d been married for six years, which were six good years I thought, until three weeks ago.

That was when I found the invitation tucked into his coat pocket for the Lexington Corp annual holiday gala. It was an employee-only event that said no spouses and no plus ones.

Mark worked at Lexington Corp as a senior financial analyst. He told me about the party, of course, and said it was mandatory attendance, purely professional, and boring as hell.,

I believed him at first, but then I noticed he’d gotten his haircut, bought a new suit, and started going to the gym religiously. Men don’t do that for a boring work event.

My best friend Rachel worked for an event staffing company. One phone call and I had myself a job serving champagne at the very party my husband insisted I couldn’t attend.

I told Mark I was going to visit my sister in Boston for the weekend, and he seemed almost relieved. The manager’s voice crackled through the locker room speaker, announcing all servers to their stations as doors opened in five minutes.

I took a deep breath, grabbed my serving tray, and headed out. The ballroom was stunning, with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling casting warm golden light across the room.

Round tables draped in white linen surrounded a central dance floor, and a jazz quartet was setting up in the corner. Everything looked elegant and expensive, exactly the kind of event that would have been nice to attend on my husband’s arm if I’d been invited.,

A Toast to Betrayal and the Red Dress

I positioned myself near the bar where I’d have a good view of the entrance. The guests began arriving in clusters, laughing and greeting each other warmly.

I recognized some faces from Mark’s office parties in years past, back when spouses were welcome. Sarah from accounting waved at someone across the room.

James from IT grabbed a glass of wine from my tray without even looking at me. That was the thing about being a server; you became invisible, which was exactly what I needed tonight.

Mark arrived twenty minutes later, and my breath caught in my throat. He looked handsome, more handsome than I’d seen him look in months.

The new suit fit him perfectly, and his hair was styled with that expensive pomade I’d noticed in our bathroom. He was smiling that broad, genuine smile I used to see all the time when we first met.

But he wasn’t smiling at me; he was smiling at someone behind him. She walked in a moment later, and I felt my stomach drop.

She was young, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with long dark hair swept up in an elegant twist and a red dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She touched Mark’s arm as they walked in together, laughing at something he’d said.

I gripped my serving tray so hard my knuckles turned white.

“Champagne,”

I managed to say as they passed near me.

Mark took a glass without even glancing my way. The woman I needed to know, her name, smiled politely and shook her head.

“I’m not drinking tonight,”

she said, her hand briefly touching her stomach, a gesture so quick I almost missed it.

But I didn’t miss it. My mind was racing: not drinking, touching her stomach, and the way Mark looked at her.

I moved closer, pretending to collect empty glasses from a nearby table. I heard Mark introduce her to a colleague.

“This is Jessica, our new senior accountant. She’s been instrumental in the restructuring project.”

Jessica, so that was her name. The evening progressed like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

I watched them circulate the room together. They didn’t touch much in public, but there was an intimacy in the way they stood close to each other.,

I noticed the way Mark leaned in when she spoke and the way her eyes lit up when he told a joke. Other colleagues clearly knew something, as I saw the knowing glances and the smirks.

Tom from legal walked up to them at one point, clapped Mark on the shoulder, and said something that made Mark turn red. Jessica just smiled serenely.

I served drinks, cleared plates, and played my role perfectly while my heart shattered into smaller and smaller pieces. Around 8:00, the CEO stood up to make a toast.

Everyone gathered around with their champagne glasses. I stationed myself near Mark and Jessica’s table, close enough to hear every word.

“I want to thank everyone for their hard work this year,”

the CEO began.

“We’ve had some significant changes, some restructuring, and I know it hasn’t always been easy. But I’m particularly proud of the work Mark Henderson and Jessica Rivera have done together. Mark, Jessica, would you stand up?”

They stood, and the room applauded. I felt like I might be sick.,

“Their dedication to the Ashton account has been remarkable,”

the CEO continued.

“Long hours, weekends, late nights. They’ve really gone above and beyond as a team. To Mark and Jessica!”

“To Mark and Jessica,”

the room echoed.

But it was what happened next that made my blood run cold. As everyone drank and the CEO sat down, Tom from Legal raised his glass again, louder this time, clearly having had a few too many drinks.

“And here’s to the happy couple! Mark and Jessica, when’s the wedding, you two?”

The room went silent for a beat, then some people laughed awkwardly while others quickly changed the subject. But Jessica and Mark exchanged a look—a look I’d seen pass between us a thousand times during our marriage.

It was a look of understanding, of shared secrets, and of love. I had to get out of there.

I placed my tray on the nearest table and walked quickly toward the service corridor, ignoring the confused look from my supervisor. In the empty hallway, I leaned against the wall, my chest heaving.