Left My Cheating Husband And Married His Boss

The Man Behind The Power

CHAPTER 2

“Good morning, ma’am!” My partner greets cheerfully, waving at every resident we pass as we make our morning rounds through the gated neighborhood.

I’m the head of Internal Security for the Wallace Estate, one of the largest real estate empires in the country owned by Waverly Group. They literally owned almost everything in the country. Our division handles everything from patrolling the residential zones to ensuring no breach of the family’s private property.

“At this point, you probably know every single person here by name,” I tease, glancing at Brandon, my patrol partner, who’s grinning like he’s running for mayor.

“Come on, Claire,” he laughs, shrugging. “A friendly face gets you insider info faster than a badge ever could.”

He’s not wrong: people tend to talk when they trust you. Still, I’m not as outgoing as he is. I’ve got enough on my plate to worry about, especially after this morning’s conversation with Daniel.

His words echo in my head like a dull throb. Middle class, exhausted and stuck.

I’d never heard him sound that bitter before. The disdain in his voice hit deeper than I’d like to admit. We’ve been married for ten years, but lately, it feels like he’s ashamed of the simplicity of our lives. Ashamed of me.

We both work for the Waverly Group, the massive corporation owned by Alexander Waverly, one of the most powerful men in New York. Daniel’s in the logistics department, while I handle internal security at the estate. We’ve worked our way up together from nothing, but apparently, “nothing” isn’t good enough anymore.

A flash of movement catches my eye—a woman walking with her little boy, laughing as he skips along beside her. My chest tightens at the sight. It takes me back to when Ethan was that small, his tiny hand gripping mine as we crossed the street.

But the memory fades fast. These days, even the thought of my son’s future makes me anxious.

Daniel wants to move Ethan to some elite academy the Waverly family sponsors. A place where the heirs of billionaires study alongside politicians’ kids. And the idea didn’t come from him; it came from her. Julia Waverly, Alexander’s new wife.

“Look, there she is again.” Brandon’s voice pulls me back to the present as we pass a billboard with Julia’s photo plastered across it, promoting one of her new “social outreach” programs.

“You’re immune to her charm?” I ask, half-smiling.

He scoffs. “Charm? Please. Every week it’s a new charity, a new ‘empowerment’ campaign. You’d think she’s running for president.”

I can’t help but laugh softly. He’s not entirely wrong. Julia Waverly has only been married to Mr. Alexander Waverly for a month, but she’s already inserted herself into every arm of the company—education programs, staff welfare, even employee housing. Always smiling, always polished, always saying the right things.

To most, she’s the picture of elegance and compassion. But to me? She’s a woman born into privilege, pretending to understand what it means to struggle.

“She’s too perfect to be real,” Brandon mutters. “You know half the employees still swear the late Mrs. Waverly was the real deal. People adored her, she had authenticity. This one just… shines for the cameras.”

He’s right again. The late Clara Waverly was adored by all and sundry. Her sudden death left the entire company grieving. And now, her younger sister, Julia has stepped right into her shoes.

I sigh. “The board probably pressured her to live up to Clara’s legacy. Maybe that’s why she’s trying so hard.”

Brandon smirks. “Trying too hard, if you ask me. No amount of charity galas is going to make her beloved.”

Before I can respond, a black luxury car pulls up to the front gates of the estate. Every officer straightens immediately.

Alexander Waverly steps out, towering and impeccably dressed as always. Even without saying a word, his presence commands respect. He’s known for being cold and calculating, but he’s also the kind of man whose authority feels… natural. Like gravity.

“Good morning, sir,” we all greet in unison.

Then I notice someone else—a boy standing beside him, about ten years old, with soft brown hair and eyes that seem too tired for his age.

I recognized him instantly—Henry Waverly, Alexander’s only son with his late wife. He’s rarely seen in public. From what I’ve heard, he’s been homeschooled all his life, kept away from the world by tutors and nannies.

As Mr. Waverly begins briefing us about recent security updates, my eyes wander back to the boy. He looks… lost. Small, even in his designer clothes.

Why did Mr. Waverly bring him along today?

Later that afternoon, I’m making rounds alone through the residential sector, double-checking the surveillance cameras when I spot someone sitting on the steps of one of the older buildings.

It’s him. Henry.

He’s curled up, hugging his knees, staring blankly at the ground. My heart squeezes a little at the sight.

“Hey there,” I say softly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

He looks up, startled. His expression is guarded, cautious. “I’m fine.”

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“I don’t go to school,” he says quietly.

I frown. “Why not? Kids your age need other kids around. Friends. Field trips. Chaos.”

“My father oversees my education,” he replies. “I have private tutors.”

That explains a lot. He has that look, one of those lonely, well-behaved children raised in silence.

I sit down a few steps away, trying not to scare him off. “You know, my son used to hate school too. Until he realized recess was just an excuse to race his friends and get muddy.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips. “That sounds… nice.”

“It is,” I say softly. “Maybe one day you’ll get to experience it.”

“Henry!”

The deep, commanding voice makes me jump. I glance up and there he is.

Alexander Waverly.

His eyes lock onto me, cool and unreadable, but the faint flicker of something—curiosity, maybe, crosses his face.

The air around us shifts.

And for reasons I can’t quite explain, my heart starts to beat a little faster.