The head table at the Stewart Industries annual gala was a sacred space, reserved exclusively for core family members. So when I walked into the ballroom, I was surprised to see my husband, a man famously aloof, with a young, unfamiliar woman seated beside him. The girl offered a sweet smile and greeted me. "Good evening, Mrs. Stewart. I'm Julian's new assistant, Alice Reed. It's my first time at an event like this, so please bear with me." I glanced at the head table. The seat that should have been mine was now occupied by her. Julian looked up and saw me, his expression unchanged. "Stephenie, this is Alice. I brought her tonight to give her some exposure." I knew, in that moment, that this man was no longer worth my breath. As Stephenie Stanley, the jewel of the Stanley family, I would never stoop to squabbling over a man with his flavor of the month. It was beneath me. 1 I kept my eyes fixed on Alice. The girl immediately put on a wounded expression. "Mr. Stewart said he was just showing me the ropes... I'll go find another table right away..." She said the words, but her body remained perfectly still, showing no intention of leaving. I looked at Julian. He was in a hushed conversation with the CFO, completely oblivious to our little drama. Alice added, "I accidentally tore my dress, and Mr. Stewart was kind enough to let me wait here for a replacement." Only then did I notice the small tear in the hem of her skirt. My heart plunged into an icy abyss. The head table at a Stanley family event was reserved for blood relatives and their spouses. When Julian and I first married, even my own cousin was politely asked to move when he tried to sit there. In the business world, Julian Stewart was known as a block of ice. He kept everyone at a distance, his boundaries absolute. He wouldn't even clink glasses properly with a female board member he’d worked with for years, let alone arrange for a replacement dress for a junior assistant—such a personal gesture. When had this man, so defined by his principles, started making exceptions for others? I remembered our engagement night, what he told me: "The Stanley family rules are my rules." The focus in his eyes then had made me believe in him, in his principles. Now, something was silently crumbling. But I, Stephenie Stanley, was no pushover. "Get up." My voice was quiet, but it cut through the low hum of the head table, silencing it instantly. Alice clearly hadn't expected me to challenge her so publicly. The hand holding her dinner knife froze over her napkin. "Mrs... Mrs. Stewart..." Her eyes reddened instantly, and she cast a helpless, pleading look at Julian. Julian finally looked up, his brow furrowed. "Stephenie, she's just sitting here for a moment. It's not a big deal." He paused, then added, "She's just an intern. Don't make a mountain out of a molehill." "Julian," I interrupted, my fingertip tapping lightly on the table. "Do I need to repeat the rules of this family to you?" The entire table held its breath. Alice finally grasped the gravity of the situation. She scrambled to her feet, knocking over a champagne flute in her haste. "I'm... I'm so sorry..." she stammered, a few strands of hair falling from her meticulously styled bun. Julian rubbed his temples. "Just go to the powder room for now." I watched his attempt to smooth things over and found it utterly laughable. I gestured to the head butler. "Please escort Ms. Reed to one of the side lounges. And have all the place settings at the head table replaced." As I turned, I caught a glimpse of Alice's clenched fists, the tips of her ears burning red with humiliation. And Julian? He was checking to see if she'd been cut by the broken glass. "The gala is cancelled," I announced to the room. "Please, enjoy the rest of your evening." I walked toward the exit without a backward glance. Julian caught my arm. "Stephenie, are you angry?" "She's just an intern. Why humiliate her in public?" I looked at the way he was defending her and suddenly wanted to laugh. My husband was pleading with me on behalf of another woman. "Julian," I said, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle on my sleeve, "are you sure you want to have this conversation here?" He understood my meaning immediately. I was forcing him to choose, right here, in front of everyone: defend the little assistant, or preserve the dignity of our marriage. Julian took my hand and walked with me out of the ballroom. "This is the first time an outsider has ever dared to sit at the Stanley family table." My voice was soft, but it made Julian's spine go rigid. He knew exactly what I was referring to. Who in our world didn't know about Julian Stewart's boundaries? Countless heiresses and socialites had tried to get close to him, only to be coldly rebuffed. Female assistants sent by business partners never even made it past their probation period. He let out a low chuckle, his fingertips tracing my tense jawline. "So, the great Stephenie Stanley does get jealous?" His warm lips pressed against my forehead. "She's just a clueless new hire. I'll have her transferred to a branch office tomorrow." Julian tilted my face up, his eyes, magnified by his glasses, were focused and deep. "There will only ever be one mistress of my life, and that is you." I stroked the diamond ring on my finger and said nothing. Don't disappoint me, Julian. 2 The very next day, Julian disappointed me. I'd seen the way Alice looked at him during the gala, the little spark in her eye that gave away her ambition. I had thought that publically ejecting her from the head table would have been lesson enough. But then I was scrolling through my social media feed this morning and saw Alice's post from the Maldives. "Thank you, Mr. Stewart, for the special reward! My first time flying first class~" The post included a picture of a first-class boarding pass and a screenshot of her chat with Julian. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. I knew that flight number. It was the route for Julian's private jet. So, when Julian said "transfer," he meant a transfer to the Maldives branch office. The bitter irony was that today was supposed to be our wedding anniversary. He had told me yesterday he was too busy with work and we'd have to reschedule. A sharp pain, like a needle, pricked my chest. I grabbed my phone, ready to call him. But then I stopped. To lose my composure over someone like her was beneath me. I dialed my travel agent. "Michael, I need you to book out every single five-star hotel room in Tahiti. For today." The next day, while Alice was still posting selfies from the Maldives, every single employee in the company—except for her—received an all-expenses-paid, seven-day vacation package to Tahiti from me. Even the cleaning staff got one. My executive assistant, being the pro she is, made sure everyone posted about it. 【Thank you, Mrs. Stewart! This is what it feels like to work for the real boss!~】 【[Heart.jpg] Off to Tahiti!】 The posts were all accompanied by photos of first-class tickets and five-star hotel confirmations. The entire company played along with gleeful enthusiasm. In the corporate world, everyone knows which way the wind blows. Within an hour, the entire business community was buzzing about Stewart Industries' lavish company retreat. The Director of Marketing posted a video of a stunning blue ocean in the 500-person company-wide group chat and then tagged Alice. 【@AliceReed How come you're not here? Even the entire finance department made it.】 The chat went silent for three seconds. 【Oh, wait, my bad. I just remembered, I don't think Alice got a ticket.】 He followed it with a "my lips are sealed" emoji. The group exploded. 【I heard there's a typhoon in the Maldives right now.】 【The weather here is amazing! I just saw Mrs. Stewart going snorkeling.】 【Alice must be holding down the fort at the office, right? Poor thing, working so hard.】 Reading the messages, a satisfied smile touched my lips. When they all returned a week later, the gossip was still flying. "Did she really think she was the lady of the manor?" "Mrs. Stewart's move was savage." "The only person in the entire company left to watch the office... hahaha." Alice frantically tried to wipe away her tears, accidentally knocking over her makeup bag in the process. The clatter of a lipstick rolling across the floor drew even more knowing glances. When Julian returned, he found Alice standing outside his office, clutching an envelope. "Mr. Stewart," she said, her voice trembling, "I'd like to transfer you the money for the flight." Julian frowned and took the ticket receipt. "The company group chat is going crazy." Tears streamed down Alice's face. "They're saying... they're saying I was the only one left behind..." She choked back a sob and showed him her phone, the screen filled with pictures of her colleagues partying in Tahiti. Alice's fingers dug into the fabric of her skirt, her voice a barely audible whisper. "I honestly didn't think Mrs. Stewart would be so upset..." She lifted her red-rimmed eyes, looking like a frightened rabbit. "Mr. Stewart, I'm willing to apologize to her in person... I'll get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness if that's what it takes." Julian rubbed his temples. He never looked at employee social media, but the corporate retreat report from HR was currently flooding his inbox with pictures of Tahiti. A report in which Alice Reed was conspicuously absent. "Come home with me," he said.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393945", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel