Chapter 6 - JANG FINALLY TOLD ME WHAT MY HUSBAND HAD PROMISED HER
Jang requested a meeting after three weeks of administrative reassignment.
Her attorney attended.
So did outside employment counsel.
Shiaoza did not.
Important.
Jang looked smaller without the executive floor orbiting around her.
Not weak.
Just human.
“CEO Chen.”
“Ms. Jang.”
She placed both hands on the table.
No watch.
Then:
“I know you think I was trying to take your husband.”
“I think you were abusing workplace authority.”
That surprised her.
“This is not primarily about my marriage.”
She almost laughed.
“It is for me.”
There.
Honest.
Then she said:
“I love him.”
Silence.
Her attorney glanced at her.
Apparently not planned.
I remained still.
“Does he know?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“When did you tell him?”
“Two years ago.”
I felt the room change.
“What did he say?”
Jang’s eyes filled.
“He said he cared about me deeply.”
I stopped breathing.
“And?”
“He said he would never leave you.”
There it was.
Not an affair.
Not innocence either.
My husband knew.
For two years.
He knew his secretary loved him.
He kept:
The pet name.
The gifts.
The loan.
The intimacy.
The special authority.
Everything.
I asked:
“Why?”
Jang laughed bitterly.
“You should ask him.”
“I will.”
Then:
“Why did you stay?”
“Because I thought eventually something would change.”
“What?”
“You.”
There.
She believed my distance would end the marriage.
She said Shiaoza often complained that I was unavailable.
Not insults.
Frustrations.
“She’s in London again.”
“She missed Mom’s dinner.”
“Vivian cares about work more than sleep.”
“We live through calendars.”
Normal marital complaints.
Shared with the worst possible person.
Jang took those fragments and built hope.
Did Shiaoza explicitly promise divorce?
“No.”
Did he promise a relationship?
“No.”
Did he tell her he loved her?
She hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
What does that mean?
He once said:
You know how important you are to me.
Another time:
I don’t know what I’d do without you.
Another:
Sometimes you understand my life better than Vivian does.
I closed my eyes.
Emotional betrayal became clearer sentence by sentence.
Then Jang said:
“He told me if circumstances were different…”
I looked up.
“What exactly?”
She swallowed.
“If we had met at a different time, maybe everything would be different.”
There.
The sentence men call hypothetical when they want both the marriage and the devotion.
I almost felt sick.
Then I asked:
“Did he authorize you to control the elevator?”
“No.”
“Promotions?”
“No.”
“Intern hiring?”
“No.”
“Vendor decisions?”
“Not formally.”
“Did you believe you had that authority?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because everyone came through me.”
Fair.
Shiaoza trained the organization to treat her as extension of himself.
She expanded.
Then expanded again.
No one stopped her.
Then she said something I needed to hear.
“You think the employees were afraid of me because I was cruel.”
“Some were.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“But they were really afraid of him.”
I stared.
“Because if I disliked someone, they assumed President Shiao would too.”
Exactly.
That was the system.
Then:
“Did you use that?”
“Yes.”
No excuses.
“Did you block Nora Lim?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She challenged me.”
“Did her performance justify blocking promotion?”
“No.”
There.
“Did you push your cousin’s company?”
“Yes.”
“Did you disclose the relationship?”
“I told Shiaoza.”
“Procurement?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I thought his approval was enough.”
That sentence defined the whole problem.
The president approves.
Rules become optional.
Then Jang started crying.
“I worked fifteen-hour days.”
“I know.”
“I sacrificed relationships.”
“I know.”
“I took care of his mother.”
“I know.”
“I built his office.”
“You did.”
“I thought that meant something.”
“It did.”
She stared.
“Then why am I losing everything?”
Hard.
“Because contribution does not create ownership over other people.”
She closed her eyes.
That included me.
Shiaoza.
Employees.
The company.
Then I said:
“You did valuable work.”
Her eyes opened.
“You also retaliated against employees, interfered outside your role, and participated in undisclosed related-party arrangements.”
Silence.
“Both are true.”
That mattered.
The investigation later substantiated several violations.
Jang was terminated.
Not because she loved my husband.
Because of workplace conduct.
Vendor conflict.
Retaliation.
Unauthorized access and personnel interference.
She received what compensation policy and law required.
No blacklisting.
No revenge.
Then Shiaoza came home.
And I asked the question I had been saving.
“Did she tell you she loved you?”
His face answered before his mouth.
May you like
“Yes.”
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