002
1371 Words
Nyxa~
“Get to work.” He barked the order. Just like that.
No apology. No explanation. Not even shame.
Just an instruction I definitely had to follow.
For a few seconds, I simply stood there and looked at him. He said it like I was an employee who had arrived late to a meeting. Like I was his assistant. Like I was hired for this.
Which, in a way, I was. I did not argue. I did not react. I did not need to be told twice.
I walked fully into the room, my heels pressing into the carpet while Elena stepped aside awkwardly. I did not look at her again. She did not matter. She was not the problem. She was only another name on a long list.
I placed my bag on the glass table and unzipped it calmly.
I brought out my laptop first, then my phone, then my portable hotspot. I connected everything in less than a minute. This was muscle memory by now.
Vaughn watched me.
Elena stood by the bed, wrapping her arms around herself like she suddenly felt exposed, even though she was still wearing his shirt.
I opened my laptop and logged into my work dashboard. Notifications were flooding in already.
Media inquiries. Board members. Three different blogs requesting confirmation.
One journalist asking for a comment.
I did not panic. I never panicked.
“When did you check in?” I asked without looking up.
Neither of them answered immediately. I lifted my eyes slowly. “I asked a question.”
Vaughn ran a hand through his hair. “Around eleven last night.”
My jaw tightened slightly. “Together?” I asked.
Elena answered this time. “Yes.” she replied with a shrug. Her voice was harder than I expected
“Was anyone present when you arrived?”
“The valet,” Vaughn said. “And possibly someone at the entrance.”
“Did you use your personal credit card?”
“Yes.”
I stopped typing and looked up at him. “You used your personal credit card.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a crime.”
“It is when reporters can track transactions through staff leaks."
His expression darkened a little, but he said nothing.
I continued typing. “Did either of you speak to anyone in the lobby? Anyone who could confirm you stayed overnight?”
Elena shook her head. “We went straight up.”
“Did you request room service?”
“Yes,” Vaughn answered again. “Champagne.”
I glanced at the glasses on the table. Of course he did.
Every answer felt like a small cut, but I did not show it. I typed, organized, calculated.
I began making calls.
First to the hotel’s PR manager. I informed him that if any footage leaked, Whitmore Holdings would withdraw its annual partnership investment.
Second to a senior editor I knew personally. I offered him an exclusive interview with Vaughn about the upcoming board expansion in exchange for burying the story.
Third to a blogger who loved drama. I fed her a distraction about a rival company facing internal fraud investigations.
Within forty minutes, the headlines started shifting.
WHITMORE HOLDINGS PREPARES FOR MAJOR EXPANSION
INSIDERS REVEAL STRATEGIC MOVE BEFORE BOARD MEETING
The hotel story was already sliding down.
I worked fast because I had done this too many times before. While I was typing, I could feel Vaughn’s eyes on me.
Not guilty. Not apologetic. Just watching.
When I finally shut my laptop, I looked at both of them.
“It’s contained,” I said calmly. “For now.”
Elena let out a breath of relief.
“You both need to avoid being seen together for at least one week,” I continued. “No restaurants. No public appearances. No careless movements. If you want to meet, do it somewhere private and use cash. Do not repeat this mistake.”
The words tasted bitter in my mouth, but I said them professionally.
Vaughn crossed his arms. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” I replied. “You will attend the board dinner tomorrow night with me. Smiling. As usual.”
He did not argue. I began packing my things back into my bag.
That was when his voice cut through the air.
“Are you not going to say anything?”
I paused. My fingers were still on my laptop.
Slowly, I lifted my head. “Say what exactly?” I asked. “I don’t understand.”
His jaw tightened. He took a long, slow step toward me, then another.
Elena sensed the tension and quietly moved farther away, pretending to adjust her purse.
“Normal wives get mad when they catch their husband cheating,” Vaughn said. “Normal wives scream. They cry. They throw things. They're dramatic. They make a scene.”
He stopped right in front of me. “You aren’t doing any of that, Nyxa.”
His voice was calm, but there was something else under it. Something almost irritated.
The words were true. They should have hit me. They should have broken something inside me. But they did not.
Because this was not new. Because Vaughn did not start cheating today.
Because I had been cleaning his mess for three years.
Because every time he stepped out with another woman, I was the one fixing the headlines.
Because I had trained myself not to react.
I let out a small laugh that surprised even me.
His eyebrows arched immediately. “What’s funny?” he asked.
“This,” I said, gesturing around the room. “You're expecting me to suddenly act shocked.”
He stared at me harder.
“This is my work, Vaughn,” I continued. “It’s what I am expected to do. It’s what I am obligated to do. For you. For your mother. For your reputation. For the company. I have no business in whatever you do with your private life.”
I zipped my bag slowly. “It’s strictly business. Remember? That’s what our contract says.”
His jaw flexed. “And what about you?” he asked.
“What about me?”
“Is it strictly business to you?”
The question caught me off guard. For a second, I said nothing.
Because the truth was not simple. There was a time, at the beginning, when I had hoped. I had hoped that maybe, after signing those papers, something real would grow.
I had hoped that maybe he would look at me differently. That he would notice the way I memorized his schedule.
That he would see how I defended him in meetings. That he would appreciate how I protected his name.
I had once waited for him to come home early. I had once dressed up hoping he would look at me twice.
I had once wanted him to touch me not because the contract required public affection, but because he wanted to.
But every time I started to feel something, he would remind me.
“This is business, Nyxa.” “Do not confuse it.”“Do not complicate it.”
So I stopped trying. I learned how to switch it off. Or at least pretend to.
“How it is to me doesn’t matter,” I said finally. “As long as I get paid, Vaughn.”
The words felt heavy, but I forced them out without emotion.
His eyes darkened. “That’s it?” he asked quietly.
“That’s it.” I lifted my bag onto my shoulder.
“I have work to do now, if you'll excuse me.”
I walked toward the door. Each step felt heavy as I did.
I reached for the handle and then something crossed my mind.
I stopped and turned slowly.
He was still standing there, watching me.
Elena looked uncomfortable now, like she wanted to disappear.
I met Vaughn’s eyes fully.“Try learning how to be discreet with your things henceforth,” I said calmly. “Because cleaning after your mess might not be so easy next time.”
I held his gaze long enough for him to understand, then I opened the door and walked out.
- Writer
