PART 2 - MY HUSBAND CHOSE SILENCE UNTIL I REVEALED WHO I REALLY WAS

For three long seconds, Shiaoza said nothing.

His face had gone pale.

Jang Chin Tong mistook his silence for anger.

She stepped closer to him and pointed at me again.

“President Shiao, she ignored company rules, insulted me, and forced her way into the executive elevator. You should fire her immediately.”

Several employees nodded.

I watched my husband carefully.

Then his eyes dropped to the white watch on Jang’s wrist.

Something changed in his expression.

“Where did you get that watch?” I asked quietly.

Jang smiled and lifted her wrist proudly.

“President Shiao gave it to me.”

The hallway went silent.

My husband’s jaw tightened.

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

“That’s interesting,” I said. “Because I chose that watch myself.”

Jang laughed.

“And why would that matter?”

I took one step toward her.

“Because I bought it for my mother-in-law.”

The smile disappeared from her face.

A few employees gasped.

Shiaoza finally spoke.

“That’s

enough.”

Everyone turned toward him.

Jang immediately grabbed his arm.

“Tong Tong didn’t do anything wrong, did she?”

I looked at my husband.

“Go ahead,” I said calmly. “Tell everyone who I am.”

His face froze.

And that was when I realized he was terrified of the truth coming out.

Not shocked.

Not confused.

Terrified.

He glanced at the employees lining the corridor, then at Jang’s hand on his arm.

Finally, he looked at me.

“This isn’t the place for a personal discussion,” he said.

Personal.

The word landed harder than I expected.

Jang blinked.

“What personal discussion?”

Shiaoza ignored her.

He lowered his voice.

“Come into my office.”

“No.”

His eyebrows lifted.

I had almost never refused him that flatly in ten years of marriage.

I gestured toward the hallway.

“She accused me of trying to seduce you in front of your employees. She threatened my job. She claimed

she controls who is allowed to work under you. She said you gave her a watch I bought for your mother.”

I paused.

“You can answer here.”

Jang’s face had begun to lose color.

Shiaoza’s voice sharpened.

“I said we’ll discuss it privately.”

There it was.

Not a denial.

Not an apology.

A command.

For years, I had mistaken that tone for confidence.

That morning, I finally heard what it really was.

Control.

I looked at the watch again.

“Did you give it to her?”

His silence answered before his mouth did.

Then he exhaled.

“Yes.”

The employee beside me covered her mouth.

Jang recovered almost instantly.

Her confidence returned.

She leaned closer to Shiaoza as if his admission had proven she had nothing to fear.

I nodded slowly.

“And what did you give your mother?”

His eyes flickered.

“I ordered something else.”

“You told me the watch shipment was

delayed.”

“I was going to explain.”

“When?”

He said nothing.

Jang crossed her arms.

“This is ridiculous. President Shiao can give me whatever he wants.”

I turned toward her.

“You’re right.”

She looked surprised.

“If he bought it with his own money, he could give you anything he wanted.”

I held her gaze.

“But he didn’t.”

Now Shiaoza looked at me sharply.

The watch had been paid for from my personal account.

I had transferred the money to Shiaoza because the boutique required the final pickup to be completed in person, and I was in another city closing a deal.

The reservation confirmation, payment record, model number, and serial number were all in my email.

Jang’s wrist suddenly became very still.

I reached for my phone.

Shiaoza stepped closer.

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Turn our marriage into a public spectacle.”

I stared at him.

“You’re worried about the spectacle?”

His eyes hardened.

“I’m worried about the company.”

That almost made me laugh.

Because for the first time since I entered the building, we agreed on something.

“So am I.”

I opened my contacts and called the head of Human Resources.

“Please come to the sixty-eighth floor,” I said. “And bring the written policy governing elevator access, intern discipline, executive assistants, and employee complaints.”

Shiaoza’s expression changed.

Jang scoffed.

“You can’t order HR around.”

I looked at her.

“We’ll see.”

Then I called corporate security.

“Preserve all elevator access logs and corridor camera footage from six this morning onward. No deletions, no overwriting.”

This time, nobody laughed.

Shiaoza stepped directly in front of me.

“What are you doing?”

“Learning how the company operates.”

“You’ve been here ten minutes.”

“And I’ve already learned that employees are climbing five flights of stairs because your secretary decided they’re beneath her.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Good. Then the written policy will prove me wrong.”

The HR director arrived less than five minutes later.

Her name was Elaine Mercer, and unlike everyone else in the hall, she recognized me immediately.

She stopped several feet away.

“Good morning, Ms. CEO.”

The silence that followed was so complete I could hear the elevator bell behind us.

Jang turned slowly toward me.

“What did she call you?”

I slipped my phone into my bag.

At ten o’clock, the board’s official announcement was supposed to introduce me to the company.

Apparently, we were starting early.

Elaine looked at the employees, then back at me.

“The board announcement hasn’t gone out yet.”

“I know.”

Jang’s face went white.

One of the men who had warned me to apologize took a step backward.

The woman who had told me employees used the stairs stared at me with wide eyes.

I faced them all.

“My name doesn’t matter as much as what happened here this morning.”

Then I looked at Elaine.

“Is there a written rule prohibiting nonexecutive employees from using the executive elevator above the sixty-third floor?”

Elaine hesitated.

“No.”

Jang spun toward her.

“Yes, there is.”

“No,” Elaine repeated carefully. “There is a security rule limiting outside visitors on executive floors. Employees with valid access badges may use any elevator their badge authorizes.”

Jang’s voice rose.

“That isn’t how President Shiao’s office runs.”

Elaine’s eyes flicked toward Shiaoza.

And suddenly I understood something else.

This wasn’t one arrogant secretary inventing rules in isolation.

People had allowed her to do it.

I turned to the woman who had whispered to me earlier.

“How long have you been taking the stairs?”

She looked terrified.

“About eleven months.”

“Why?”

Her eyes moved toward Jang.

Nobody needed her to say more.

I asked Elaine one final question.

“How many complaints has HR received involving Secretary Jang?”

Elaine did not answer immediately.

Shiaoza did.

“That is confidential.”

I looked at him.

“I’m the CEO.”

“It’s still not appropriate to discuss employee complaints in a hallway.”

“Then send them to my office.”

His face tightened.

“Later.”

“No. Now.”

For the first time, the employees around us stopped looking frightened.

They looked interested.

Jang saw it too.

Her control over the hallway was slipping by the second.

She removed her hand from Shiaoza’s arm.

Then she gave me a cold smile.

“You think a title makes you untouchable?”

“No.”

I met her eyes.

“I think records make people accountable.”

I asked Elaine to preserve every complaint involving Jang, every disciplinary action connected to employees who had challenged her, and every instruction from the president’s office concerning those complaints.

Then I asked Finance to send me a list of all discretionary gifts, reimbursements, and vendor approvals signed by Shiaoza during the previous eighteen months.

That was when my husband finally lost his composure.

“This has nothing to do with a watch.”

I looked at him.

“I hope you’re right.”

At 10:07 a.m., the formal announcement went out to every employee.

WELCOME OUR NEW CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER.

Phones began vibrating throughout the floor.

Jang stared at the message on her screen as if it had personally betrayed her.

I walked past her toward my new office.

Before I entered, Elaine caught up with me.

“There’s something you should see before you meet the board,” she said quietly.

She handed me a thin folder.

Inside were seven written complaints from employees who claimed Jang had threatened transfers, blocked promotions, changed access privileges, and publicly humiliated people who refused personal errands for her.

Four of those employees had later received poor performance reviews.

Three reviews had been approved directly by Shiaoza.

Then Elaine showed me an email chain.

One sentence made my entire body go cold.

Jang had written to my husband six weeks earlier:

If she ever comes back to headquarters, I need to know before she enters this floor.

And Shiaoza had replied:

Don’t worry. I’ll handle her.

Click the blue “PART 3” below to read the next part: 👉 PART 3 👈