THE CEO'S SECRET AFFAIRS

As Valeria Varela followed her husband, Lorenzo, into the limelight, her heels clicked methodically against the large ballroom's polished marble floor, each step reverberating through the vast space. The glittering gowns and crisp tuxedos of the city's most affluent citizens were reflected by the brilliant lights, which were a spectrum of gold and silver. She could not hear the clink of champagne flutes, the quiet chatter, or the laughing that filled the air. Though not quite present, she was there. As the wave of luxury whirled around her, her thoughts drifted, far away. She didn't care about the opulence of the gala, the lavish chandeliers, the marble sculptures that appeared to be watching her every step, or the silence of awe as they arrived. Lorenzo, who stood beside her, was tall, black, and unbelievably attractive. His eyes were a tempest of unfathomable intentions, his jaw was sharp and defined, and he wore his typical impenetrable mask, a smile that was trained but not genuine. Every inch of him was tailored to draw attention, and his black tuxedo suited him like a glove. Nevertheless, he hardly gave his wife a glance. The crowd moved aside to give them space as they entered the ballroom. Whispers swept through the throng like wildfire as heads turned and gaze followed. The Varelas are a millionaire power couple who are seen as the ideal duo since they are untouchable and gorgeous. That perfection, however, felt like a gilded cage to Valeria. As usual, she was a shadow in his light, a mirror of him. She was tall, her eyes a pale green that seemed to mirror every room she entered, and her deep auburn hair fell in gentle waves down her back. The cool detachment that had become second nature framed her face, which was delicate but beautiful. Her beauty was appreciated by others, but they failed to notice the emptiness behind her eyes. She was the ideal spouse, a stunning addition to a man who didn't require any embellishment to demonstrate his value. She had been little more than a gem in his collection. With practiced elegance, Lorenzo shook hands with a few business persons, already engrossed in conversation. Instead of focussing on her, he was fully focused on them and the transaction he was about to complete. Valeria gave him a nonchalant glance and saw the slight change in his eyes as they passed her. The harsh but familiar ache of rejection made her heart sink. Their eyes briefly locked, a momentary flash of recognition, but it was as short-lived as a shadow crossing the sun. After that, he vanished, adrift in a sea of admiring strangers. He could not be touched. She wasn't. Valeria moved to the side of the room and greeted several people she knew, her lips twisting into a smile that stopped short of her eyes. She felt as though she couldn't get away from the cacophony of laughter and mindless chatter that filled the bright, perfumed crowd. She made an effort to appreciate the spectacle, the way the crystal chandeliers glistened, the sophisticated women in their sparkling dresses, and the men who spoke in deep, rich tones, but it all seemed so pointless. Even though the glitz, riches, and status had been a part of her life for years, it still felt more like a jail than a palace every night. She saw Camila, who had been working with Lorenzo for several months, across the room. Her black hair was cut into a stylish bob, framing her resolute, keen face, and she exuded confidence and height. Camila was independent, unabashedly ambitious, and, as usual, the center of attention, everything. Valeria wasn't. She could tell that Lorenzo's eyes were on her for a little too long, and his smile was a little too warm. She felt a glimmer of jealousy, but it was swiftly put out by resignation. What was she expecting? Camila was more than just a pretty face; she was everything Valeria could ever be. She was shrewd, calculating, and bold, qualities Valeria admired but was never able to fully adopt. It was like a slap across the face when she realized it. It was this. Standing at the edge of the world, watching everyone live while she stood motionless, this was her life now. A masquerade, a flawless front for the public. What did that signify, though? It all became brutally obvious when she looked at Lorenzo once again, absorbed in conversation and utterly unconscious of her presence. If this existence had ever really been hers, it was no longer. "Is this what my life has become?" The words tasted harsh on her mouth as the thought replayed in her head like a whispered confession. She was pulled back to the present by the sound of glasses clinking. She shook the thought aside with a blink. She wasn't some invisible woman who had been cast into the background or some wallflower. She was Valeria Varela, the spouse of one of the world's most influential men. Even so, she was aware that titles could only keep you safe for a limited time until the emptiness set in. She remained motionless as the crowd swirled around her, held in place by the mounting feeling of suffocation that had taken hold of her chest. She became aware of something significant as she watched Lorenzo get farther away. She wasn't meant to be here, with him, or in this life. The quiet between them grew louder by the second, and the gilded cage in which she had been imprisoned for so long had begun to feel more like a tomb. She was still his wife, though, and the ideal addition to his business for the time being. Nevertheless, she was aware that something was shifting within her. Valeria stood on the edge of the crowd, back straight, her eyes following the figures of Lorenzo and Camila as they talked close to the center of the ballroom, while the hum of discussion swirled around her. Valeria could only hear the sound of her heartbeat in her ears as the music played quietly across the room. Her heart used to skip a beat when she heard Lorenzo laugh, but now it felt hollow and alien. It was all about Camila, and it was too warm. Valeria was too accustomed to the subtleties of their speech patterns, but they had learned to overlook them for the purpose of their public persona. Her husband appeared to be every inch the strong business person he was, tall and attractive, with dark hair that was perfectly tousled and sharp, angular features. He was the main attraction of the evening as his jet-black outfit shone in the lights, drawing others in like a beacon. And Camila, who was only a few inches away, appeared to enjoy it. Her chuckle, which seemed out of place in Valeria's world, but also like a lovely symphony. She shouldn't feel upset. She had always been aware of her position next to him. She had been prepared for this. The ideal spouse to the ideal husband. However, something felt different tonight.