When Late Nights at the Office Turned
Into a Forbidden Love Story
Meet Maya Fisher, the young woman who sent Montgomery Clifford & Co.'s powerful president, Colin Montgomery, spiraling into scandal, leaving behind his wife of nineteen years and their kids.
A massive photo of her and Colin, at what I recognize as the awards ceremony in Miami, dominates the top of the page. She looks effortlessly beautiful.
The article goes on to introduce Maya, outlining her academic and professional background before shifting to my marriage with Colin, and even mentioning our children. There’s a small photo in that section, of me and Colin at one of the countless events we attended together. It’s an unflattering angle, of course.
Then come the so-called “sources.” People claiming to have seen them spending long hours behind closed doors in Colin’s office after everyone else had left.
Details follow. How, within a short time at the company, Maya was promoted to his executive assistant. How Colin supposedly couldn’t stand being away from her, proven by the fact that even on quick business trips, his assistant—andparamour—was always by his side.
There are also sources mentioning the divorce filing. But they list Colin as theplaintiff, and go into detail about how he’s already planning a new life with hisnew love.
At the end of the article, there’s another photo of them at the Miami awards ceremony. They’re standing side by side, and in it, Colin is looking at her, a smile on his face.
With every word I read, the nausea deepens. I read it again, just to be sure I didn’t miss anything.
At least our children are mentioned only briefly, limited to their ages and the fact that they’re the only ones we have.
I’m pulled out of the trance by a gentle touch on my shoulder. “Here.” Alexander extends a black mug toward me. “It’spassifloratea. It’ll help you calm down a bit. Mynonnaalways makes it in stressful moments.”
I hadn’t even noticed he’d gotten up while I was reading.
“Nonna?” I ask as I take the mug from him. “Thank you.”
“It means grandmother in Italian,” he says with a small smile, a touch of warmth softening his features. “My paternal grandmother always has a tea for every occasion.”
I take a sip. The taste is sweet and tart, slightly citrusy. “It”s really good. Thank you.”
He smiles again, though it barely reaches his eyes. “I’m sorry for showing you that.”
“Don’t be. I needed to see it. My phone’s dead anyway, it would’ve taken me longer to find out.”
He draws in a slow breath. “If it’s any consolation, most people are smart enough not to believe everything they read on those sensationalist gossip sites.”
A bittersweet smile curves on my lips. “Well, they got one thing wrong—it’s eighteen years of marriage, not nineteen. We won’t be celebrating any more anniversaries.”
I say it lightly, but inside it breaks me. Because I always thought that, until the day I died, every anniversary would be with Colin.
“As for everything else... I don’t know who their sources are, but they’re not far off. The article spun their affair into this epic, forbidden love story and turned me into the plain, suburban, oblivious housewife who got left behind for someone younger and shinier.
But the facts are real… he did have an affair with his junior executive assistant.”
“I know you’re talking about how they portrayed you,” Alexander says, his displeasure unmistakable beneath the controlled tone of his voice. “but I don’t like hearing it all the same. There’s nothing plain or oblivious about you. Your latest blog post proves that. And they know it—that's why they didn't mention it once in the entire piece."
I look at him, caught off guard by the intensity in his expression. “Thank you,” I whisper, lightly brushing his hand where it rests on the couch.
A small spark, like static, runs through me. I pull my hand back, wrapping both hands around the mug instead.
I keep sipping the tea, and we sit in a comfortable silence.
And then it dawns on me. “Oh my God, I need to go home. I need to see my kids. They were supposed to go out with theiruncle after school. I have to talk to them. I have to prepare them before they see this, before someone else does.”
The words spill out in a rush as I stand up too quickly, nearly spilling what’s left of the tea all over myself.
Alexander rises immediately, taking the mug from my trembling hands and setting it on the coffee table before placing both of his hands gently on my shoulders. “Cecily, I need you to take a deep breath, okay? I’m sure your kids are fine.”
