Oh man, you shouldve seen itTom threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly choked. “You actually said that to her face? In front of everyone?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” Mark drummed his fingers on the table, restless. “Im married. She wouldnt take the hintgot bolder every day. The whole departments noticed by now.”
“Mate, youre too soft,” Tom teased. “Most blokes wouldve jumped at the chance. Youre acting like some shy schoolboy.”
“Weve got different ideas about loyalty,” Mark shot back, though his eyes betrayed exhaustion. “At first, it was just flirting. I ignored it, didnt want to make a scene. Didnt want to be rude.”
“Thats where you messed up,” Tom said, raising a knowing eyebrow. “Your silence gave her hope. Made her think she had a shot.”
“What does she even want from me? Plenty of single guys around!”
“For women like her, a wedding ring isnt a stop signits a challenge,” Tom said dryly. “Proof youre worth chasing.”
Sophie blew into their office like a sudden storm. She wasnt classically beautifulsharp features, a low, husky voicebut when she smiled, the room lit up. HR later admitted theyd been about to reject her until that smile changed everything.
At first, Mark genuinely liked her. Her energy and quick wit were a breath of fresh air in the dull office routine. He helped her settle in, shared advice. To him, it was just kindnessno ulterior motive. A family man through and through, he saw her as a talented colleague, almost a younger sister.
Then the lines blurred. Her jokes turned suggestive, her touches lingered. Mark, an introvert who hated confrontation, froze. His usual moral compass spun wildly. He started avoiding her, skipping lunches together. But retreat only fueled her obsession.
***
Mark was in his mid-thirties, the kind of man who kept his life meticulously orderedtall but slightly stooped, like he was trying to take up less space. Dark hair, neatly trimmed, with early streaks of grey at the templesheredity and stress. Calm eyes, but with a quiet exhaustion behind them. He wore thin-framed glasses, which hed nervously push up when flustered. His clothes were practical: plain shirts, tailored trousers. No flashy details.
He hated crowds, office gossip, flirtationall of it drained him. Silence, order, focusthat was his language. Conflict terrified him; hed rather swallow his words than argue.
But beneath that quiet exterior was an unshakable core: his family. Emma and the kids werent just part of his lifethey *were* his life. His loyalty wasnt performative; it was as natural as breathing.
Sophie noticed him day one. The fact he ignored her usual tricks only made him more intriguing. Conquering a married man? That was the ultimate validation. If a “good” man fell for her, it proved she was worth something. And experience told her no “perfect family man” was truly perfect.
Within weeks, Sophie was gushing to her friend Alice about Mark. “Hes *trapped*,” she insisted. “His wife doesnt understand him. Shes just *comfortable*. His souls screaming for more!”
Alice frowned. “Youve never even met Emma. How do you know?”
“I dont *need* to! Look at himso buttoned-up, so *controlled*. Thats not normal. Theres pain underneath. I *feel* it. I want to *free* him.”
Alice sighed. “Soph, this isnt some rom-com. You dont want to free himyou want him because hes off-limits. Stop playing with fire.”
“You dont get it,” Sophie snapped. “Were *meant* to be. And that perfect family? Ill prove its a lie.”
***
The business trip to Manchester was torture. Guess who volunteered to join? In front of clients, Sophie was professionalalmost made Mark relax. Then, late that night, a knock at his hotel door.
“My rooms freezing,” Sophie said, wrapped in a robe that did little to hide the silk underneath.
Marks stomach dropped. Panic clawed at his throat. He pictured Emmas facesteady, trusting.
“Wait here,” he muttered, turning to grab a spare blanket. “Take this.”
Sophie pouted but took it. “Youve locked yourself in a cage and thrown away the key,” she said, leaving. “Pity. Theres a different man underneath.”
Mark leaned against the door, pulse pounding. Relief mixed with pityfor her, for himself, for the whole absurd mess.
Back at work, Sophie seemed to forget him. Mark started to relax. Then she asked for a lift home. He refused.
“Do I disgust you?”
“Youre brilliant, Sophie,” he said carefully. “But I love my wife. Ive got a family”
“So thats the *only* reason?” Her eyes glittered with dangerous amusement.
“No” He stumbled over his words, but she was already gone. He instantly regretted his hesitation.
That night, a sharp nudge woke him. Emmas furious whisper cut through the dark:
“Mark. What the *hell* is this?”
He sat bolt upright. On his phone: Sophie, in lingerie, posing shamelessly.
“Emma, its not what you think!” Voice cracking, he spilled everythinghis discomfort, his mistakes.
Emma exhaled, anger and affection warring in her tone. “You daft sod. Fine. I believe you. But if she tries this again, Im marching into that office and giving everyone a show they wont forget.”
The next day, Mark called Sophie into a meeting room. She strode in, glowing, expecting surrender.
“Sophie, youve crossed a line,” he said, forcing his voice steady.
“Oh, *please*,” she purred, reaching for his face.
He recoiled. Her hand hung in the air.
“What are you trying to say?”
“That your perfect life is a *lie*,” she hissed. “From the outside? Picture-perfect. Loving wife. Princess daughter. Heir son”
“We *are* happy.”
“Wake *up*, Mark!” She slammed her hands on the table. “Your boy looks *nothing* like you! Your daughters your twin, but Danny? *Zero* of you in him!”
Ice flooded Marks veins. He stared at her triumphant sneer, the last shreds of pity vanishing.
“And I can *prove* it.” She tossed a paper on the table. “Paternity probability: 0%. Handy having friends in labs. So? Now do you believe me?”
Marks voice was lethally calm. “I tolerated your advances. But my *children*? Dannys not mine by blood. Thats mine and Emmas business. But since you *need* to poke into other peoples liveshis parents, Emmas sister and her husband, died. Hes *ours* now. Happy? Satisfied?”
Sophie paled. “I didnt know”
“I dont know how you got that testor if its even real. But I see you clearly now. Resign. By tonight. Or I go to the police. And if you *ever* come near my kids” His quiet tone turned deadly. “Youll wish it was just the police.”
Sophie quit that afternoon. Mark came home early, finding eight-year-old Lily doing homework and six-year-old Danny building Legos. He hugged them tight, breathing in their familiar scents.
That evening, after bedtime, Mark sat across from Emma.
“We tell him,” he said softly. “He deserves the truth from usnot from some stranger.”
Emmas eyes wellednot with grief, but relief. “Im scared.”
“Me too. But well do it together.”
A week later, over cake, Mark knelt beside Danny. “Buddy, Mummy and I need to talk to you about love. About family.”
Lily listened intently as Mark explainedhow family isnt always about blood, how love makes it real. Danny frowned, processing, then hugged them both.
“Can I have more cake now?”
The tension shattered. Crumbs scattered, laughter bubbled upand in that ordinary moment, there was no room for Sophie or her games. Just a family, whole.
