Chapter 2
1242 Words
“Alright then, show me. Show me this so-called proof you have,” I said sharply, frustration bubbling in my voice.
This old lady pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling—but not from fear. From rage.
She shoved the screen in front of my face.
A w******p conversation.
Flirty.
Filthy.
Between her husband... and someone named Monica. This person's name similar with me. It made sense now, no wonder she attacked me. She had probably asked the others earlier about someone named Monica.
Wait, I see something strange here.
The profile picture was mine.
My face. My smile. My photo.
No wonder this woman was so furious.
No wonder she wanted to tear me apart.
I drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself.
“I think... I understand now,” I said quietly, my voice turning cold.
“First, who exactly am I speaking with?” I asked, keeping my tone steady.
“There’s no way you don’t know who I am,” she replied smugly, lifting her chin like a queen delivering judgment.
“The fact is... I don’t know you,” I said, staring her dead in the eye.
“You just look like an ordinary old woman to me."
The woman’s face flushed bright red. She was clearly offended by being called an old woman.
I didn’t care. I had no intention of calling her "Madam". She's rude, why should I respect her?
“So here’s the thing, old lady...” I said coldly. “It seems someone’s trying to set me up. I’m not having an affair with your husband. And actually, I have a proof too.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. Calmly. Without hesitation.
I unlocked it with my passcode.
“Here. Go ahead. Open my w******p. Search for your husband’s number.
"You do know which number he uses… right?”
I handed her my phone. I wasn’t hiding anything. Not a single trace of fear. Not a flicker of guilt. Because there was nothing to hide.
She tapped through my chats, searching for her husband’s name.
The messages were there. Simple and professional.
Nothing but a few questions about the marketing budget and some work-related updates.
There were no flirtatious texts. No explicit messages. Nothing like what she had shown me.
“This can’t be… this can’t be real…”
This woman stared at my screen, eyes wide in disbelief. She couldn’t accept the truth.
“You… you must be using another phone!” she snapped, her voice rising in desperation.
“You have to be using a different phone to talk to my husband! You must have another number! Show me that phone. Right now!”
I think this woman is completely out of her mind.
“You’ve been watching too many dramas,” I replied flatly.
“Your imagination is impressive. Maybe you should consider becoming a screenwriter. I only have one phone.”
“LIAR!” she screamed.
I think I’ve gotten used to hearing this woman’s screams.
“I’m not lying,” I said calmly. “Now stop harassing me."
“If it’s not you, then who is it? No one would go through all that trouble to use your photo just to fool me,” she said, voice laced with venom.
“Oh, but someone would, old lady,” I shot back.
“The person who went through all that trouble is your husband’s real mistress. She’s terrified her identity will be exposed. That’s why she worked so hard to deceive you.”
"And of course, the mistress is working together with your husband," I thought to myself.
“Then who is she? Who’s sleeping with my husband?” she barked.
“How the hell should I know? Ask your husband! And stop harassing innocent people!” I snapped, my patience finally cracking.
“You insolent little—”
“Listen here, old lady. Your husband is not attractive. I wouldn’t even consider flirting with him, let alone sleep with him. Now get out of here. Stop making a scene.”
The old lady smirk.
“He has money. Women like you only want luxury without having to work for it.”
That was it.
This time, I wanted to slap her.
Sure, Rizal had money. A good position at the office.
Power.
And me? I was just a regular accounting staff.
But that didn’t mean I was cheap.
Our conversation stopped when Rizal arrived. It seemed that Ira had brought Rizal here as soon as he arrived at the office.
"Sisca, what are you doing here?" Rizal asked, surprised.
Rizal looked at me, battered and bruised. "Why did you hit Monica? What’s really going on? Did you two fight?"
"I came here to teach your mistress a lesson," Sisca said, pointing at me with her index finger.
"Who’s cheating? You mean I’m having an affair with Monica?"
Rizal then looked at me and his wife alternately. The old man smiled shyly, like a teenager who was in love.
I couldn’t believe the disgusting scene unfolding in front of me. He really made me sick.
SMAAAACK!!!
SMAAACK!!!
SMAAACK!!!
Sisca slapped me again. No mercy.
“Look at him! LOOK AT HIM!!”
Sisca screamed as she yanked my hair, forcing me to stare at Rizal’s blushing, guilty face.
“You still dare to pretend you’re innocent?!”
"Stop!!" I tried to free myself from the grip of the woman who was pulling my hair.
“Stop it! What’s going on here?!”
That voice is sharp, authoritative, and cut through the chaos.
Hitomi.
She stepped in and grabbed Sisca’s arm mid-swing.
“Who are you? Stay out of this!” Sisca snapped at her.
“I have to step in. I’m human resources staff here,” Hitomi said sharply, her tone full of warning.
“Oh, so you're the HR person? The one who hired this filthy woman?” Sisca hissed.
“Then look at this woman! This woman is a slut! A homewrecker! She’s my husband’s mistress!”
She kept screaming while still clutching my hair.
“I’m not your husband’s mistress! How many times do I have to say it before you understand, you old woman?” I shouted back, refusing to stay silent any longer.
Once again, I kicked Sisca hard in the leg. An eye for an eye. A hair-pull for a hair-pull.
I wasn’t backing down—not this time.
“Monica! Stop it, Mon!”
“Monicaaa!”
Hitomi’s voice rang out, trying to pull me back to sanity.
“She started it first!” I snapped at her, voice shaking with fury.
Then I felt hands on me—strong, holding me back.
“Let go of me!”
“Let go!”
“Monica, please… calm down.”
It was Eric. He was the one holding me. His voice was gentle. Controlled. Too controlled.
“Calm down…”
SMAAAACK!
Another slap—sharp, hot—landed across my cheek. Again.
No one stopped her. Not a single hand reached for Sisca.
All eyes were on me. All hands pulling me back.
It was like they wanted her to finish me off.
“Look at her, Eric! You saw that, didn’t you?”
I turned to him, my voice cracking, my eyes swimming with tears.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. Why am I the one being treated like this?”
- Writer
