My Husband And His Mistress Mocked Me In German To My Face. They Called Me A “walking Atm” And Planned My Replacement. They Didn’t Realize I Understood Every Word. What Should My First Move Be?
The Gambler’s Last Stand
Like a wounded animal, David raged within the four smoke-filled walls of his office. He knew the CEO chair beneath him was shaking more violently than ever. One more gust of wind and it would topple.
But David was still David, a man with an overinflated ego and a belief in his own business prowess. He refused to sit and wait for his demise. He wanted to make one final, all-or-nothing gamble to turn the tables.
His only chance, his last lifeline, was the bid to supply technical equipment and solutions to the Lamson Group, a massive project he had been pursuing for a year. Winning the bid would mean a huge cash advance, instantly clearing his financial blockage and salvaging his reputation before the board.
He believed that in the ruthless world of business, people only cared about profit, not the personal lives of their partners. For three days and nights, David locked himself in his office, surrounded by cold takeout containers and overflowing ashtrays.
He made calls everywhere, leveraging his few remaining connections, even taking out a high-interest loan from a shark to grease the wheels and perfect his proposal. Disheveled, with dark circles under his eyes and a wrinkled shirt, he no longer resembled the suave young executive he once was.
My secretary told me he had screamed himself hoarse at his staff over a minor typo. He was like a madman, pouring every last ounce of his energy and sanity into that thick bid proposal. He muttered to himself like a mantra:
“Just win the bid. If I win the bid, it’s all over. The money comes in, everything will be fine, and Catherine will regret ever looking down on me.”
He naively believed money could buy back respect and erase the stain on his character. He had forgotten the one thing I had told him many times when we were still in love: business, like life, is built on integrity first, character second, and talent third. But those words had long been ignored, dismissed as the naive theories of a woman.
That afternoon, David walked out of his office, proposal in hand, his eyes burning with a demonic ambition. He stopped at a barber shop for a shave and a trim, changed into a brand-new suit, and doused himself in expensive cologne to mask the stale smell of smoke.
He looked at his reflection, adjusted his tie, and told himself, “You can do this, David. You’re a genius. You’ll show them all who the real winner is.”
The sleek black car sped off into the afternoon sun, carrying the last hope of a man on the edge of an abyss.
The Meeting at Lamson Group
The Lamson Group’s boardroom was on the top floor of a skyscraper, encased in floor-to-ceiling glass that offered a panoramic view of the bustling city. The interior was sleek and intimidating, with a gray and silver color scheme. The air conditioning hummed, creating a palpable chill.
David walked in confidently, shaking hands with his competitors. His practiced corporate smile was a perfect mask. He glanced at his watch. At exactly 2:00 p.m., the heavy mahogany doors opened.
Chairman Lamson, a man in his 60s with silver hair and an imposing presence, walked in, followed by his team. David shot up, bowing respectfully, spouting flowery compliments. Chairman Lamson gave a slight nod, his sharp eyes scanning the room before lingering on David for a moment longer than the others.
He didn’t sit down. Instead, he stood to the side, gesturing graciously toward the door, his voice deep and resonant.
“Before we begin, I would like to introduce a special guest. This is the senior risk adviser I have personally invited to consult on this project.”
David looked toward the door, curious as to who could command such respect from a titan like Chairman Lamson. The steady click of high heels on marble echoed. The sound was so familiar it made his heart skip a beat.
And then she appeared. It was not a stranger; it was me, Catherine. I wore a pristine white pantsuit, expertly tailored to accentuate a figure that was both slender and powerful. My hair was pulled back neatly, and my makeup was understated, yet I radiated the confidence of a true professional.
I walked in, my calm gaze sweeping past David as if he were a complete stranger. No hatred, no sorrow, just the cold professionalism of business. David was frozen in place, the smile on his face stiffening and then collapsing.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating from the stress. His wife, the woman he thought only knew her way around a kitchen and a spreadsheet, how could she be here as a senior adviser to a leading corporation?
“Hello everyone, I am Catherine,” I said, nodding to the room before taking a seat to the right of Chairman Lamson, the position reserved for the most influential voice in the meeting.
Chairman Lamson patted my shoulder gently, addressing the room but looking directly at David.
“Perhaps you are not aware, but last year it was Miss Miller who discreetly warned me and helped me avoid a multi-million dollar scam from a fraudulent partner. I owe her a great debt, and more importantly, I have absolute faith in her judgment of character and risk.”
David struggled to compose himself, forcing a smile.
“Chairman Lamson, what a surprise to see my wife here. But sir, family matters are private. I trust that in business we can remain impartial and objective. My company’s proposal…”
I didn’t let him finish. I raised a hand, cutting him off cleanly. I opened the file in front of me, pulled out a document with a stark red chart, and slid it to the center of the table. My action was gentle, but in the silent room, it carried the weight of a death sentence.
“Mr. Anderson, there is no one here who is your wife,” my voice rang out clear and cold. “I am sitting here as an independent risk adviser, and the first principle of risk management is that numbers do not lie.”
I pointed to the chart, my eyes locked on David.
“According to the latest financial capability assessment, your personal credibility index as the head of your company is currently in the negative. Your business’s operating cash flow is severely depleted due to misappropriated funds. Your collateral assets are currently under legal dispute and frozen by the court. With such a high-risk profile, awarding this project to your company would not be an investment; it would be suicide.”
David’s face was ashen. His hands gripped the edge of the table to keep from collapsing. He stammered, trying to salvage a shred of dignity.
“This… This is a personal vendetta! You’re using your position to get revenge on me. Chairman Lamson, look at her! She’s slandering me. My company is operating normally. The cash flow issue is only temporary.”
Chairman Lamson finally spoke, his voice deep with the authority of a man who had weathered countless storms in the business world.
“Mr. Anderson, I have been in business my entire life. The most important thing to me is not profit, but integrity. A man who can betray and scheme against the wife who stood by him through thick and thin, what guarantee is there that he will be loyal to a business partner?”
He paused, his gaze on David filled with disappointment and contempt.
“The character of a leader is the best shield for a business. You have shattered that shield with your own hands. You may leave now.”
