Summary
By the time my husband asked for a divorce, his mistress was already visibly pregnant.
Working late alone one night, I started wailing over the death of my marriage.
Somehow, my sobbing caught the attention of our domineering CEO.
He appeared in a tailored suit with warm shrimp dumplings and wontons, his eyes unexpectedly gentle.
It was the middle of the night, and we were alone together.
Winter was coming, I thought bitterly, so perhaps it was time to knit my husband a green hat of his own.
But after the CEO handed me a tissue and talked in circles, I finally understood what he wanted.
He had his eye on my cheating husband.
My sobs stopped cold as the gears in my head began to turn.
If my husband was with another woman, I would lose my appetite.
But if he was with another man, I might even sit back and watch them cook.