The Empty Slide

After grinding for a year at my corporate job, I realized something important: I didn't love Carter anymore. So, at the firm’s milestone celebration, when my coworkers started chanting for Carter and his "work wife" Chloe to take a celebratory shot together with their arms linked, I didn't cause a scene like I would have in the past. I actually clapped along, joining the crowd yelling for them to kiss. Carter's face instantly went cold. I didn't stick around to notice, though. I was too busy networking with the department heads. After the party, Carter—who had been giving me the silent treatment for six months—cornered me outside the venue. His dark eyes held a frustrating mix of anger and hurt. "Mia," he demanded. "Why weren't you mad back there?" I let out a huge yawn, looking up at him with pure exhaustion. "Carter, please don't hold me up. I just want to go home." "I've been working overtime for a month straight, and I have a 7 AM strategy meeting tomorrow. I literally don't have the energy to care about this right now." Carter's frown deepened. Seeing the dark circles under my eyes, his tone softened. "I'll drive you home." I nodded without hesitation. The venue was twenty miles away from my apartment, and an Uber would cost at least sixty bucks. Paying that much just to go home from a mandatory work event felt like highway robbery. Just as I pulled out my phone to cancel my ride request, Chloe's voice rang out. "Carter? Mia? What are you guys doing out here?" Instantly, everyone leaving the venue turned to look at us. It was past midnight. We’d all been drinking. A beautiful junior employee and a senior executive standing alone on a dark street corner, whispering to each other. Anyone would jump to conclusions. Not to mention, there were already some nasty rumors floating around the office about me. My head pounded. I didn't even want to imagine what the office Slack channels would look like tomorrow morning. Especially since I was up for an 'Employee of the Year' nomination. I couldn't afford to hand my rivals free ammunition. I glared at Carter, then instantly plastered on a massive, fake smile, walking over to Chloe like we were best friends. "Oh, hey Chloe! Your birthday is coming up, right? Carter wanted to get you something special and asked me for some shopping advice. Looks like the surprise is ruined now!" "But honestly, the best gifts are the ones you pick out yourself. Right, Carter?" Carter's expression turned even colder. His jaw tightened so hard I thought it might snap. Anyone could see he was furious. I was terrified the alcohol would make him blurt out the truth, so I shot him a desperate, warning glare. After a tense standoff, Carter finally gave a stiff nod. Right on cue, my Uber pulled up. I quickly nudged Chloe toward Carter, winking at her. "I'll let you two figure it out! Have a good night!" I practically dove into the backseat of the Uber. It wasn't until the car pulled away that I finally let out a long breath. Six months ago, Carter had forcefully inserted me into his company. It was my first real job. No interview, no trial period—just straight to a full-time position. At the time, I was clueless. I showed up on my first day wearing a Burberry trench coat, Chanel heels, and carrying a Birkin bag to my cubicle. Because of that, from day one, the office rumor mill branded me as the high-maintenance mistress of some senior executive. I had cried and begged Carter to just publicly announce that we were married. Carter had looked at me coldly. "Mia, do you finally understand how hard it is for Chloe to survive as a woman in the corporate world?" I didn't understand. I never understood why Chloe struggling at work meant my husband had to stay out all night comforting her. We had a massive fight. I stormed out of his corner office, my eyes red and puffy. Within an hour, a new rumor started: The brainless bimbo tried to sleep her way to the top by throwing herself at Carter, but he kicked her out. I couldn't do anything about the gossip. So I worked like a dog, determined to prove my worth through sheer competence. To "encourage" me to take the job seriously, Carter had cut off my credit cards. If I got fired, I'd literally have zero income. I barely survived those six months. I had finally started earning respect based on my performance, and Carter had almost ruined it all over again tonight. Thank God I thought fast and covered for them. By the time I got home and showered, it was past 1 AM. My hair was still wet when I crashed into bed. In my half-asleep haze, I heard the front door open. It was Carter. Since our explosive fight about Chloe six months ago, he rarely came home. I used to cry myself to sleep over it. At first, I thought he was just cruel—how could he abandon me so easily? But eventually, my anger faded into worry. Was he sleeping well at a hotel? Was he eating right? Would his stomach ulcers flare up? I figured, since he always apologized first whenever we fought in the past, maybe this time I should be the one to swallow my pride. So, I took a PTO day. I cooked his favorite meals, packed them up, and went to the luxury hotel he usually stayed at. The front desk told me he wasn't a guest there. I stood in the lobby, completely frozen. If he wasn't at the hotel, where was he? A wave of panic washed over me. By the time my brain caught up, I was already standing outside Chloe's apartment building. When I found out she was his college sweetheart and had been hired as his executive assistant, I had done some digging and found her address. Should I go up? Should I knock? If Carter really was there, what would I even say? If he wasn't there, would he find out, get even angrier, and punish me more? I didn't have time to figure it out. The elevator chimed, the doors slid open, and Carter and Chloe walked out together, stopping dead in their tracks when they saw me. Seeing me standing there, Carter's first reaction wasn't guilt. It was rage. His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes dark and freezing. He said, "Mia, are you done throwing tantrums yet?" In his eyes, asking him why his ex-girlfriend was now his assistant was a "tantrum." Being upset that he planned a lavish birthday party for Chloe but forgot mine entirely was a "tantrum." And now, catching them living together? Also a "tantrum." I suddenly felt so incredibly tired. If Carter hated my tantrums so much, then fine. I would stop. From that day on, we didn't speak for six months. Aside from coming back once to grab some paperwork, I hadn't seen him. So when I woke up and found Carter sitting on the edge of my bed, I jolted back in sheer terror and scrambled to turn on the lamp. When the light hit his face, capturing his stunned expression, my heart rate finally slowed down. "Why are you here?" I asked flatly. His handsome brow furrowed. "Mia. This is my house too. Can't I come back?" I didn't have the energy to argue. My commute to the office was an hour and a half. The morning strategy meeting meant I had to be there an hour early. I had to wake up at 6 AM. I turned off the lamp and went back to sleep. Carter sat in the dark, fuming. He stomped around the bathroom for twenty minutes, making as much noise as possible, then aggressively threw himself onto his side of the bed, clearly waiting for me to react. I didn't flinch. I slept straight through it. When my alarm went off the next morning, I opened my eyes to see Carter staring at me, wide awake. He hadn't slept a wink. I jumped, startled, but didn't have time to deal with him. I rushed through my morning routine, grabbed my blazer, and bolted for the door. I had timed my commute down to the minute. If I hit the subway just right, rented a Citi Bike at my stop, and pedaled like crazy, I'd swipe into the lobby at 6:59 AM. But when I ran out the front door, a black SUV was waiting in the driveway. Carter walked up behind me, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. "My driver will take you." It took me exactly 0.01 seconds to accept the offer. The backseat of a luxury SUV meant an extra 45 minutes of glorious, uninterrupted sleep. But just as I closed my eyes, Carter slid into the seat next to me. My eyes snapped open. Carter immediately read my expression and cut me off. "It's my car. My driver. I'm going to the office too." I couldn't argue with that. I checked my watch. It was too late to walk to the subway now. I rubbed my nose awkwardly and accepted my fate. We rode in silence. Two blocks away from the corporate tower, I suddenly yelled, "Stop!" The driver slammed on the brakes. Carter opened his eyes, annoyed. "Keep driving." I quickly plastered on a syrupy, overly polite smile. "Mr. Vance, if we walk into the lobby together, people are going to gossip. Chloe might hear about it and get upset. Let's just separate here. Driver, unlock the doors, please!" Carter's anger flared. He opened his mouth to say that we were legally married, so who cares about gossip? But before he could say a word, I opened the door, sprinted to a nearby bike rack, swiped my phone, and pedaled away furiously. Carter kicked the back of the driver's seat in frustration. "Why the hell did you unlock the door for her?!" The driver looked back, completely bewildered. "Mr. Vance, you gave me explicit orders never to let anyone at the company know you were married..." Carter fell silent. He watched my figure shrink in the distance, a sudden, unsettling feeling creeping in that something had slipped completely out of his control. The morning meeting went flawlessly. Afterward, my work bestie, Sarah, came over to congratulate me. "Mia! You finally got your own solo project! You've improved more in the last year than anyone else in the department!" "It's all thanks to you and Rachel," I smiled. "If you guys hadn't helped me, I would have drowned." My parents named me Mia hoping I would be happy and carefree my entire life, and while they were alive, I was. Then the accident happened, and my family's business went bankrupt overnight. That was when Carter stepped in. He didn't break our arranged engagement just because my parents died. Instead, he spoiled me rotten. I had never experienced a single hardship in my life. I had no idea how the real world worked. I didn't even know how to build a basic PowerPoint presentation. Rachel, my manager, had taken one look at my first slide deck and screamed at me so loud the whole floor heard. I ran back to my cubicle sobbing. Sarah, who sat next to me, got so annoyed by my crying that she angrily pulled up a chair and taught me how to do it right. And that’s how it went. One yelled at me, the other taught me. In a few brutal months, they forced me to grow up. Today, Sarah didn't need to teach me anything. Sometimes, I even helped her. Rachel didn't yell at me anymore either. She actually praised my aesthetic eye and creativity. I owed my survival in the corporate world entirely to them. Sarah leaned over my cubicle wall, her eyes gleaming with gossip. "Mia, be honest. Yesterday... did Carter really just ask you for advice on a birthday gift for Chloe?" "Of course!" I lied smoothly. "You know I'm the expert on designer brands!" Sarah believed me instantly. A few months ago, the agency landed an incredibly difficult client—a big name in the high-fashion industry. The firm had sent a dozen different account managers to pitch him. He took one look at their outfits and sent them packing. His exact feedback was: "Why would I trust my brand to an agency where the staff dresses like they buy their clothes at a discount bin? Just close up shop." Our entire department was furious. Even Rachel, who was always stoic, was livid. But we couldn't do anything about it. He was a titan in the fashion world. Landing his account would hit our entire year's quota in one go. After everyone else failed, Rachel sent me in as a desperate last resort. At that point, I had already learned my lesson about wearing designer clothes to the office, and since Carter had cut off my funds, I was wearing cheap, off-the-rack clothes. I fully expected the client to verbally destroy me. Instead, he looked me up and down, tilted his head, and scoffed, "Your outfit is barely passable. Come in." I nervously followed him into his office. The second I showed him the proposal, he tore it apart. He criticized the concept, then insulted our lack of knowledge about luxury branding. That sparked a fire in me. I had been a VIP client at every major fashion house since I was a teenager. Nobody knew those brands better than I did. And I had worked my ass off on that proposal. Even though I wasn't the lead, Rachel had incorporated every single one of my ideas. Insulting the pitch meant insulting me. I argued back. We debated fabric sourcing, haute couture tailoring, and historical design inspirations for four straight hours. I barely edged him out. By the end, he was so frustrated he just aggressively signed the contract to shut me up. I had somehow landed a massive whale. After that, the client demanded I handle all communications. Terrified he would complain to my boss, I followed him around like a shadow, taking notes. When he started criticizing our design team's execution, I couldn't hold back and fought with him again. I won again. Fuming, he approved the final proofs. I became an office legend. Everyone knew I had a killer instinct for fashion and had somehow tamed the agency's most impossible client. So, Sarah didn't suspect my excuse for a second. She scoffed angrily. "I knew Chloe's little fan club was full of crap! After you left last night, Carter left right after you. Chloe had to take a cab home by herself." "When she got in this morning, her eyes were all red. People kept asking her what was wrong, and she just played the martyr, making everyone guess." "Whenever someone guessed you, she'd suddenly look down and wipe a tear! She’s totally trying to throw you under the bus!" "Now the whole office is whispering that you're trying to steal Carter away from her! Honestly, I bet she’s just jealous that you're prettier and better at your job!" I flashed my left hand, showing her a simple silver band, and smiled. "It's fine. You know I'm already married." The real diamond engagement ring Carter gave me had been forcefully removed by him on my first day of work. He said that because I had always had a safety net, I couldn't empathize with Chloe's struggles. He wanted me to experience firsthand what the corporate food chain looked like for a single woman. Growing up sheltered, I was naive and overly trusting. I was the perfect prey. Soon after I started, a senior male director took an interest in me. He started giving me special assignments and insisted I travel with him for client meetings. He made me drink with clients until I was completely blacked out, then carried me back to the hotel. I woke up to him sitting on the edge of my bed, unbuttoning his shirt. I screamed, grabbed a lamp, and chased him out of the room. Back at the office, I filed a report with HR. Without hard evidence, nothing happened. When Rachel found out, she marched into the director's office, aggressively negotiated a massive "hush money" severance package, and handed the check directly to me. We both knew it was the only option. You either keep your job to survive, or you demand a justice you can't afford. Before I left her office, Rachel looked at me and said, "Mia, in the real world, the only respect you get is the respect you demand for yourself." I finally understood what she meant. That night, I called Carter's best friend, Liam, and asked him if he would pretend to be my husband. Liam was incredibly confused. "You already have a husband. Why do you need a fake one?" I answered honestly: "Because Carter is too busy pretending to be someone else's boyfriend." Liam went silent. He was a confirmed bachelor, and he genuinely didn't understand why Carter was ignoring his own wife to play house with his ex. He understood even less why a married woman would make such a bizarre request. I didn't sugarcoat it. I told him about the sexual harassment incident. Without another word, Liam agreed. To make it look authentic, I bought a cheap pair of matching silver rings from a street vendor. We both put one on. The next day, when people at the office noticed the ring and asked if I was seeing someone, I told them I was married. I said I had taken the ring off because of a bad fight, but we had worked it out, and my husband was picking me up after work. That afternoon, Liam parked his Porsche outside the lobby. After that, the creepy directors stayed far away from me, and the rumor that I was an executive's mistress died instantly. I couldn't help but marvel at how useful a "married" status really was. To keep the narrative solid, I occasionally posted staged selfies with Liam on my Instagram stories, setting them so only my coworkers could view them. Just last night, worried about the rumors regarding Carter and me, I strategically posted another photo of Liam and me. Sarah, who was clearly scrolling through Instagram instead of working, pulled up the photo and sighed dreamily. "Mia, every time I see a picture of you and your husband, I swear you look like a power couple from a movie. He is so handsome!" I nodded casually. "Yeah, he's definitely easy on the eyes." The second the words left my mouth, the air around us went completely still. I turned around. Carter was standing directly behind my chair, his eyes locked furiously onto Sarah's phone screen, glaring at the photo of me and Liam.