sɪɴғᴜʟ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛs

31.clearing Misunderstanding

Siddharth's POV

My car stopped in front of my company. I got out and entered the building, ignoring everyone who greeted me.

In the elevator, I pressed the button for the 3rd floor. When the doors opened, I walked straight to my office, ignoring everyone.

I sat in my chair, and my secretary came in with my schedule. "Gosh, I have a lot of meetings today,"

Half my day went by attending meetings. Exhausted, I threw myself back in my chair with a sigh and pressed the bell. The peon entered.

"Sir, you needed something?" he asked.

"Bring me a cup of coffee," I replied.

He left, and I closed my eyes, not expecting any interruptions.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in," I said, thinking it was the coffee.

A lady entered with a smile, holding a tiffin. My annoyance grew. It was Sarah, whom I hated because she always tried to get close to me. I wished I could kick her out, but she was a valuable employee.

"Sorry to disturb you, boss, but I have something for you," she said, walking toward me with that annoying smile.

"What is it?" I asked without looking at her.

She placed the tiffin on my table. "Boss, I cooked lunch specially for you with my love in it," she said, sliding the tiffin toward me.

"So? Feed it to the street dogs," I said harshly, looking away.

"Please, boss, don't say that. I made this especially for you."

"I'll prefer my wife's food instead of yours. In fact, I'll eat venom happily if my wife gives it," I said, standing up and glaring at her.

"But try at least—" She stepped forward and tripped, falling on me, her head near my shoulder. I could feel her lips pressed against my collar.

I immediately pushed her away harshly.

"Stay. Away. From. Me," I said, gritting my teeth in anger.

"Okay, okay, I'm going," she said and ran out.

"Bitch," I muttered, clenching my fist. My stressful day had just gotten worse.

I sat back in my chair, the tiffin box boiling my blood further. I threw it off my desk, and it fell on the floor.

Moments later, one of my men entered after knocking on the door, holding a file.

"Divorce papers?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes, boss. These are the divorce papers you asked for," he said, placing the file on my desk.

"Good. Now go," I said, and he left.

With a sigh, I opened the file, checking everything. I picked up my phone and called my mafia friend, Alex.

After a few rings, he picked up. "Your divorce papers are ready, Alex. Are you sure you want to divorce your wife?" I asked with a frown.

"Yes, I want to. She cheated on me," Alex said, pain and sadness in his voice.

"Alright, alright. I'll send them to your house tomorrow," I said and hung up.

I closed the file, set it aside, and resumed my work.

When it was late, I got up from my chair, picked up the file, and noticed the tiffin box. I picked it up and went to the elevator.

Walking out of my company, I got a call from one of my men. I answered it and, while talking, carelessly threw the tiffin in a nearby dustbin.

Within a few minutes, my Porsche arrived, and I got inside. We drove off.