Cleaning For My Husbands Secret Mistress
Language: en
The notification hit my phone like a dopamine spike: a wire transfer of ten thousand dollars from my husband’s company finance department. My heart leaped. A bonus? Finally? After the year we’d had, this was salvation. Then the phone rang. It was the finance manager, a woman whose voice usually carried the friction of sandpaper. "That transfer was a mistake," she barked, skipping the pleasantries. "It’s for the partner, not you. Send it back. Now." I froze, phone pressed to my ear, confusion clouding my brain. "Excuse me?" She mistook my hesitation for resistance. Her tone sharpened.…