Sorry, Mr. Stanford, Your Wife Owns You - Chapter 1: Chapter 1
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I walked into the conference room three minutes early for the company's latest project seminar.
My husband's female colleague—the one who was always fussing with her hair—shot me a look of pure disdain.
"Late again. And where's the coffee I asked you to get? Ignoring me now, are you? Or are you just deaf?"
I checked my watch, ignored her, and headed to my seat.
To my shock, she kicked my chair aside with a sneer. "If you can't even handle a simple coffee run, maybe you should just stay home and let Mr. Stanford take care of you."
She scoffed. "And you call yourself a career woman? If it weren't for him, I would've fired you on the spot. You're an embarrassment—a disgrace to working women."
The moment the words left her mouth, the room filled with scornful glances aimed straight at me.
Without missing a beat, I dialed Leonard's number and tossed my phone onto the table. "Then go ahead. Ask your precious Mr. Stanford if he dares to fire me."
The phone rang twice before Leonard immediately hung up.
A ripple of laughter spread through the room.
"Did you hear that?" someone snickered. "She actually asked if he'd fire her? He won't even talk to her!"
"I heard women in bad marriages lose their minds," another chimed in. "Useless at everything, but still clinging to that CEO's wife title like it means something."
"God, I hate women like her," a third voice sneered. "Walking around like she's better than everyone, when she's actually clueless. Pathetic."
I tuned them out and kept dialing, but Leonard kept rejecting my calls.
My frown deepened.
Anne sighed dramatically, her tone dripping with mock pity. "Come on, we all know who you are. Stop embarrassing yourself."
She flipped through her documents, pretending to be busy. "Just go get the coffee. We have a meeting."
I didn't move. Face cold, I kept redialing.
Finally, the call connected—and the room went dead silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Leonard's response.
He clicked his tongue, and I could practically see him rubbing his temples in irritation. "Are you insane? I was out drinking with a client until midnight. My head is killing me."
"What the hell do you want?"
I didn't hesitate. "Leonard, your assistant is trying to fire me. Did you approve this?"
A brief pause—just two seconds—before his voice came back icy. "I didn't. But she's right to."
My gaze darkened as I scanned the smirking faces around me.
"Nicole, you said you didn't want to be a housewife, so I put you in the best department. And what have you done? Your performance is bottom-tier, yet you still collect a paycheck. Do you have any idea how many people resent you?"
His voice turned sharp. "When this company goes public, I'm cutting dead weight. If you can't do your job, go home and make me soup instead of humiliating yourself here."
My husband's female colleague—the one who was always fussing with her hair—shot me a look of pure disdain.
"Late again. And where's the coffee I asked you to get? Ignoring me now, are you? Or are you just deaf?"
I checked my watch, ignored her, and headed to my seat.
To my shock, she kicked my chair aside with a sneer. "If you can't even handle a simple coffee run, maybe you should just stay home and let Mr. Stanford take care of you."
She scoffed. "And you call yourself a career woman? If it weren't for him, I would've fired you on the spot. You're an embarrassment—a disgrace to working women."
The moment the words left her mouth, the room filled with scornful glances aimed straight at me.
Without missing a beat, I dialed Leonard's number and tossed my phone onto the table. "Then go ahead. Ask your precious Mr. Stanford if he dares to fire me."
The phone rang twice before Leonard immediately hung up.
A ripple of laughter spread through the room.
"Did you hear that?" someone snickered. "She actually asked if he'd fire her? He won't even talk to her!"
"I heard women in bad marriages lose their minds," another chimed in. "Useless at everything, but still clinging to that CEO's wife title like it means something."
"God, I hate women like her," a third voice sneered. "Walking around like she's better than everyone, when she's actually clueless. Pathetic."
I tuned them out and kept dialing, but Leonard kept rejecting my calls.
My frown deepened.
Anne sighed dramatically, her tone dripping with mock pity. "Come on, we all know who you are. Stop embarrassing yourself."
She flipped through her documents, pretending to be busy. "Just go get the coffee. We have a meeting."
I didn't move. Face cold, I kept redialing.
Finally, the call connected—and the room went dead silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for Leonard's response.
He clicked his tongue, and I could practically see him rubbing his temples in irritation. "Are you insane? I was out drinking with a client until midnight. My head is killing me."
"What the hell do you want?"
I didn't hesitate. "Leonard, your assistant is trying to fire me. Did you approve this?"
A brief pause—just two seconds—before his voice came back icy. "I didn't. But she's right to."
My gaze darkened as I scanned the smirking faces around me.
"Nicole, you said you didn't want to be a housewife, so I put you in the best department. And what have you done? Your performance is bottom-tier, yet you still collect a paycheck. Do you have any idea how many people resent you?"
His voice turned sharp. "When this company goes public, I'm cutting dead weight. If you can't do your job, go home and make me soup instead of humiliating yourself here."
End of Sorry, Mr. Stanford, Your Wife Owns You Chapter 1. Continue reading Chapter 2 or return to Sorry, Mr. Stanford, Your Wife Owns You book page.