My CEO husband is a player and he thinks I am not his type

Episode 2 Title: The House Party

I thought the worst part of being Mrs. Tyson Villa would be the silence.

I was wrong.

The worst part was the noise.

It was Saturday night, and the Villa mansion was full again.

But this time it wasn’t for our wedding.

It was a house party.

His family loved me.

His mom hugged me when I came downstairs in jeans and a t-shirt. “Freedom, sweetie, make yourself at home!”

His little sister snuck me cookies from the kitchen. “Ignore my brother. He’s dumb.”

Even the maids were kind to me.

But Tyson?

Tyson acted like I was furniture.

“Rule number 2,” he had told me that morning. “Stay out of my way.”

So I did. I stayed in the kitchen, helping the staff, because at least there I felt useful.

Then his friends arrived.

Rich men in designer suits. Rich women in dresses that cost more than my rent.

And with them was her.

Celine.

Tall. Blonde. Model body.

One of the “99 women” from the magazines.

She walked straight to Tyson and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Right in the middle of his living room.

Right in front of his family.

Right in front of me.

Tyson didn’t push her away.

“Bro, is this your new wife?” one of his friends laughed, looking at me in my jeans. “Damn, Tyson. Downgrade much?”

They all laughed.

Tyson didn’t laugh. But he didn’t defend me either.

He just took a sip of whiskey.

My chest hurt. But I kept washing dishes.

That’s what collateral does, right? Stays quiet.

Two hours later, the party moved to the pool area. Music. Lights. Alcohol.

I was bringing out trays of snacks when I saw them.

Tyson and Celine.

On his couch.

In my house.

And they were kissing.

Not a quick peck.

A deep, slow, tongue-down-his-throat kiss.

The kind you do when you own someone.

His hand was on her waist. Her hand was in his hair.

And his eyes... his eyes opened for one second.

And they met mine.

I froze. Tray in my hands. Heart in my throat.

He saw me.

And he didn’t stop.

If anything, he kissed her deeper.

Someone whistled. “Damn, Tyson. Cold.”

Celine pulled back, saw me, and smiled.

A fake, sweet smile. “Oh! Sorry, Mrs. Villa. Didn’t see you there.”

Mrs. Villa.

Said like an insult.

Tyson finally stood up. He walked past me without a word.

But his friends weren’t done.

“Hey, collateral girl,” one of them slurred. “Go get us more drinks. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

“Yeah, be useful,” another one laughed. “That’s why your family sold you.”

I felt my face burn.

His mom gasped from across the pool. “That’s enough!”

But Tyson was already walking away with Celine’s hand in his.

He didn’t look back.

That night I slept in the guest room. Alone.

In a house full of people.

Married to a man who let his friends bully me.

Married to a man who kissed another woman in front of me.

His family loves me.

He has zero love for me.

And as I lay in that big empty bed, I made a promise to myself.

One year.

I can survive one year.

But I will not cry.

Not for him.

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