My CEO Wife Sheltered My Assistant When I wasn't Home

It was my fifth year on a classified mission when my superiors finally approved my request to visit my family back home.

I had just parked in the spot my wife had reserved for me when a little boy suddenly ran up and splashed a bucket of paint across my face.

“This is my daddy’s parking space! My mommy saved it for him! Who said you could park here?!”

Mommy saved it for Daddy?

Since when did I have a son like that?

I stared at the little boy. He was dressed in a custommade suit I had specifically designed for my son. I reached out to grab him, determined to find the answers.

But before I could move, a man stepped out of another car and punched me straight on the face.

“First, you steal the parking spot my wife gave me, and now, you’re laying hands on my son?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you know President Coldwell can make you disappear from New York City, without any trace, before the end of the day?”

I stared in shock.

The man in front of me—drenched in gold jewelry, dressed in luxury—was none other than my former assistant.

I pulled out my phone immediately and dialed Darcy.

“I heard you gave the exclusive parking spot to someone else… and even had a kid with him?”

——

“Cut the crap!” Wyatt Kline yelled as he knocked my phone from my hand. “Move your car, and apologize to my son! Now!”

My face was covered in paint. Of course, he didn’t recognize me.

My phone shattered at my feet, but my attention shifted back to the man in front of me. He looked so familiar yet distant.

I had sponsored his studies from high school through college.

Despite receiving offers from major corporations, he’d insisted on working as my assistant at home.

I’d asked him more than once.

“You’re a graduate from a prestigious university. You have a sharp mind. You could have a brilliant future in a big firm. Why settle for odd jobs in my home?”

He used to smile at me shyly, arms full of paperwork, and reply, “Mr. Bonavich, you pulled me out of poverty and gave me an education. I just want to do what little I can to repay you.”

I’d been so touched that I paid him far more than what an assistant typically earned.

But only now did it hit me.

Back then, the way he looked at Darcy—there was something hidden behind the avoidance. It was something that suggested desire.

I’d brought him along to business events, even introduced him to my fiancée.

I’d seen the flicker of shock in his eyes, but I dismissed it.

And now, he wore coats worth eight figures. His watch alone cost two million.

Even the generous salary I gave him wouldn’t come close to affording all this.

I didn’t want to think about who might’ve funded him.

Instead, my eyes locked onto the child he called his son.

I reached out and rolled up his sleeve. On the inside, three letters were stitched into the fabric: LCB.

No doubt about it!

This was the custom piece I’d designed for my son, handcrafted by a European designer. The initials inside stood for Lindon Coldwell Bonavich—my son’s complete name!

“Take off that suit,” I demanded, reaching for it.

Wyatt rushed forward. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re stripping my kid in public now?!”

“I should be the one asking,” I snapped. “Why is the suit I made for my son on this bastard?!”

“Who are you calling a bastard?!”

He raised his hand to hit me again, but I grabbed his wrist in one swift move, flipped him down, and punched him square in the face.

“Son of a—”

The punch left a paintcovered imprint on his face. Clutching his face, he screamed in rage, still not recognizing me.

“What are you all standing around for?! Get him!”

Several black cars parked nearby opened their doors, and a dozen suited bodyguards stepped out, surrounding me.

As I watched the personal security team Darcy had once assigned for me now closing in with hostility, my chest tightened.

Darcy… even gave my bodyguards to Wyatt?!

“Hold him down!” he barked. “I want to beat him ten times harder than how he hit me!”

Just like that, my arms were pinned by the very men who used to protect me—now obeying someone else’s orders.

One of the men turned to Wyatt, giving the signal. “Sir, you may proceed.”

“Let go!” I demanded.

I kicked the bodyguard square in the groin, dodged to the side, and grabbed Wyatt’s arm. Raising my hand high, I snapped, “You’re just an assistant. Who gave you the nerve to act like this?”

“Stop right there!”

Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the parking lot.

I looked up and saw Darcy marching toward us, her face cold and tight.

“Darcy!” Wyatt broke free from my grip and, eyes red, rushed to her side. “He tried to hit me! Look at my face…”

Paint still streaked my own face as I turned to her, eyes indifferent.

“YYou’re here to back him up, President Coldwell?” Wyatt asked, staring at her.

“I am,” she answered. To my shock, she shoved Wyatt aside.

“Darcy! He started it! He’s the one who messed with me!” Wyatt complained.

“Bryden,” Darcy called, looking at me. To my surprise, her eyes reddened.

“Bryden?” Wyatt froze midbreath.

Darcy reached up and gently wiped the paint off my face, her gaze turning icecold as she turned to the team of security.

“Which one of you did this?” she asked through gritted teeth.

They exchanged uneasy glances, not daring to breathe. One of them instinctively looked toward Wyatt’s son.

“President Coldwell!” Wyatt quickly pulled the boy behind him. “He’s just a kid! He didn’t know any better—he was just playing around.”

“Oh, so he thought it was fun. And as his father, you thought it was fun too?” Darcy shot back.

“His father?” I cut in coldly. “What the hell is going on here?”

Darcy looked as if she were unaware of what had happened. She even started introducing the kid to me.

“Bryden, this is Wyatt’s son. His wife… There was an accident.”

“I—” Wyatt tried to speak, but Darcy cut him off.

“Have you completely lost your mind? Have you forgotten who helped you when you had nothing?” she snapped.

“But—” Wyatt tried to defend himself.

“Even if Bryden hadn’t come today,” Darcy pressed on, “are you saying this is how you usually go around throwing his name around to act all high and mighty?

Disappointment filled her eyes as she glared at him. “If he hadn’t called me just now, would you still be out here abusing his reputation?

She didn’t let him argue. “Weston’s still so young. Is this the kind of example you want to set for your son?!”

Wyatt’s eyes turned red again while Darcy’s gaze dropped to the little boy. Her first reaction was to roll up his sleeve and check the inside.

When she saw the initials stitched there, her perfectly shaped brows furrowed deeply.

“President Coldwell, I… I…” Wyatt scrambled to explain.

“Wyatt,” she cut in again, “I only let you stay on as my assistant after my husband went abroad because I pitied you.”

She sighed before she continued, “I even let you use his parking spot so you could conveniently bring your kid. And this is how you repay me? Repay him?”

Wyatt bit his lower lip hard, on the verge of tears.

‘So… Darcy really didn’t know?’ I wondered.

I was just about to ask when she spoke first.

“You’re done here. Wash your uniform and go to finance to collect your final paycheck.”

“What? President Coldwell, please—no!”

Panic spread across his face. He lunged forward to plead, but Darcy stepped in front of me protectively and signalled the security to stop him and his son from coming any closer.

“Bryden, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Her eyes were filled with worry, so gentle—just like the first time we met.

My eyes stung, and just like that, the anger inside me eased.

We had loved and known each other for fifteen years and had never once fought.

Even during the five years I was away, as long as I called—even if she was in the middle of a board meeting—she’d pause everything, just to give me one minute on a video call.

My clothes were still soaked in the paint Weston had thrown at me; Darcy brought me home to clean up.

But just as we exited the parking lot, a small homeless kid by the roadside caught my eye.

It had been five years, but that birthmark on his arm… That couldn’t be mistaken.

I pulled away from Darcy’s hand and stepped forward.

I lifted the homeless kid’s chin.

“Lindon?!”

‘My son… is begging on the street?!’

Lindon clearly didn’t recognize me. He flinched and instinctively backed away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll go beg somewhere else!”

Watching him scramble to pick up his chipped plate and worn plastic spoon in a panic, wearing those tattered clothes, my eyes immediately welled up.

This was my son—once a bold, fiery little prince who couldn’t be tamed by anyone. How had he become so timid and afraid?!

Suddenly, I remembered Weston wearing my son’s clothes. That bastard, not even five years old, was decked out in gold and jewels. A wave of dread surged through my chest.

I spun around and grabbed Darcy by the arm.

“What’s really going on between you and Wyatt?” I asked, demanding an explanation.

“Bryden?” She winced; my grip had clearly hurt her.

“Why is Wyatt’s son dressed like royalty while our son is out here begging on the street? Don’t tell me you’re just being kind to that father and son!”

Just as I was about to get physical again, my son suddenly threw himself at my leg and held on tightly.

“No! No, it’s not like that, Dad! I was just…” He shot a nervous glance at his mom. “I was just… experiencing life…”

“Experiencing life?” I repeated, stunned.

Darcy looked a bit wronged. “Honey, you know how stubborn our son is. If he’s going to inherit the company one day, we can’t let him grow up reckless.”

“After you left,” she continued, “I’ve been trying to temper his nature. Letting him beg was just one method of teaching him.”

“Teaching him by having him beg on the street?!” I snapped.

My son hurriedly pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Dad! Mom told me to observe people from a homeless perspective. Every month I go to a different area. This month is the rich street.”

He pointed to the paper. “I have to write a report for Mom after each assignment. Look—I’ve already written half of the one for the rich street.”

I stared at the report, stunned.

In my son’s childish handwriting were detailed observations of people’s behavior—patterns, preferences, even an analysis of their needs.

This was the same boy who used to be completely unmanageable, wild to the core, and couldn’t sit still long enough to learn anything. No one could keep him in line.

Darcy gave me a somewhat aggrieved look.

“Honey, you’re the one who told me, after you left, to take care of him and discipline him properly…” she reasoned. “I’ve tried so many methods. If I’m not strict, he won’t listen at all…”

I had said that.

And honestly, I had to admit, I was pleasantly surprised by the results. I’d never seen our son this wellbehaved.

I helped him pack up his little setup.

“Let’s skip the begging part from now on,” I said. “We’ll come up with a new method tomorrow.”

After we got home, I drafted a brandnew development plan for him.

And just like that, he never begged on the streets again.

The vacation leave my superior approved was down to its final day. As I was packing up to return to work, I received a call from Lindon’s school.

“Hello, is this President Coldwell’s husband? Sorry to bother you, but could you please be more involved in your son’s life? You can’t just leave everything to his mother.”

I frowned. “My son’s been really wellbehaved lately.”

“Sir, I understand that you might have a bias as a parent, but your son has injured five of his classmates just this week,” the teacher reported.

“Your wife has managed to smooth things over each time,” she added, “but you really can’t let this go on unchecked!”

I was fuming.

‘Could it be that what Darcy said was right? When dealing with a wild child like Lindon, do I really have to be a bit harsh?’

I dropped my luggage and rushed straight to the school.

Just as I reached the door of the administrative office, I heard shouting from inside.

Hold on… That voice…

I shoved the door open in a panic.

Inside, Weston was in the middle of an angry shouting match with a group of injured children. He was so worked up he nearly threw another punch. It took everything the teachers had to pull him back.

“Are you Lindon’s father? Please take care of your son!” the teacher shouted in exasperation.

I turned and looked at Weston. Then, my gaze shifted back to the teacher.

“You said he’s President Coldwell’s son?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Lindon.”

I let out a cold laugh.

“And how do you know he’s President Coldwell’s son?”

The teacher chuckled.

“President Coldwell is incredibly busy, but every time this child gets into trouble, she comes down personally to smooth things over. She’s already paid nearly a million in compensation. What kind of person would do that unless she’s the mother?”

My fist clenched involuntarily.

“And what about Weston?” I asked.

The teacher blinked in confusion.

“Sir, we don’t have any student named Weston in this school.”

My breath caught. I turned away and called Darcy.

“So, President Coldwell, you’ve gotten so ambitious you’re sending someone else’s son to school in place of ours?”

The teacher stared at me, baffled. On the other end of the line, Darcy was even more confused.

“What are you talking about, honey?”

“I had no idea Weston had become our son—using your name at school and getting into fights!”

“What did you just say?”

Her voice was laced with shock.

Back in her office, Darcy was furious.

“I only stepped in to help because you’re a single father, and I pitied your situation! But you went behind my back and switched the boys?!”

I stood just outside the office, listening to the argument inside, frowning slightly.

‘Could it be… that Darcy truly didn’t know?’ I contemplated.

We had been in love and understood each other for fifteen years. She had always stood by me.

Even when I was too busy with missions and missed our nightly video calls, I’d find her still waiting for me, asleep on the couch with the call screen open.

Inside, Wyatt was still trying to defend himself.

“I… I didn’t know what else to do! In a fancy school like that, if I showed up as a single dad, my son would be bullied, right? Besides, you were—”

“Enough!” Darcy cut him off coldly. “Leave New York City.”

“Hold on,” I said, pushing open the office door. “I’ll take him out myself.”

She looked over at me, and I turned to Wyatt.

“I’ll personally make sure he gets to Tarskova.”

Darcy paused while Wyatt started to panic and turned to her. “President Coldwell, please—”

“All right,” Darcy said with a nod.

“President Coldwell! I don’t want to go!” Wyatt shouted.

But my men were already waiting downstairs.

I hadn’t come just to confront them. I came to make sure I got to Wyatt first—before anyone else could interfere.

This wasn’t only about him posing repeated threats to my family.

I’d been covertly involved in assisting with a trade war overseas. The Coldwell Corporation was already a key player in the country’s economic development.

And something about Wyatt… wasn’t right.

My request to have him transferred had been approved. After hearing what I’d gone through, my superiors even granted me a threeday family trip to Bali with my wife and son.

I personally escorted Wyatt onto the plane.

My team would be waiting for him at the airport.

At the gate, eyes red, he dropped to his knees and clutched Weston tightly in his arms, begging me for mercy.

“Please… Please just give me one last chance…”

I looked down at him from above.

“There’s someone in Tarskova assigned to you. You won’t die—unless…” I paused intentionally, letting the words hang. “You really are an economic spy.”

Wyatt froze, speechless.

I turned around and headed off to join my family for our threeday trip.

Who knew when we’d be together again after this?

I had to make the most of every second.

Only after confirming that Wyatt and Weston had landed safely did I board the ship.

But the moment I stepped onboard, a mob of nearly thirty men swarmed me from all directions, pinned me down, and dragged me to the deck.

“What do you think you’re doing? I’m President Coldwell’s husband!”

“You’re exactly who we’re looking for!”

One of the men kicked the back of my knee, forcing me to kneel.

At the end of the deck stood a woman—her back turned, but her silhouette looked all too familiar.

In front of her, a long rope hung from the edge, suspending..

“Lindon!” I cried out in shock, my voice cracking.

“Daddy!” my son wailed, thrashing in midair.

I stared at Darcy in disbelief. “Darcy! Weren’t we supposed to be on a trip?”

She turned slightly, her voice cold. “Oh, we are. I just didn’t expect you to be so cruel… even to a child.”

“Mom!”

A little boy suddenly flung himself into her arms. His clothes were torn to shreds and dirt streaked his face, washed away in trails by his tears.

“Uncle Bryden… He didn’t send bodyguards to pick us up! He hired people to kidnap me and Dad!” Weston lied. “DDad… He risked his life to push me out! That’s how… That’s how I made it back to find you, Mom…”

He sobbed breathlessly, barely able to get the words out—but I caught a glint of smug satisfaction in his eyes when they flicked in my direction.

I didn’t have time to argue or explain. There were too many lies, and I could only grit my teeth and stare at Darcy.

“What did he just call you?” I asked, rage restraining my voice.

“Bryden.” Darcy grabbed my chin with force, not answering me. “I did make mistakes in the five years we were apart. I missed you too much.”

“But I’ve always tried to protect your dignity,” she added, recalling everything. “I let the world think he was a single father. I made them pretend I was just a stranger—someone they couldn’t call as their wife or mother. I did that for you!”

She stared at me, shaking her head. “So tell me, why are you so cruel? Why would you go so far… even to murder a child?”

At that moment, I wasn’t sure what hurt more—my jaw under her grip, or the pain crushing my chest.

She snapped, “Tell me, Bryden. Where is Wyatt?!”

Tears dripped down onto her hand. But I clenched my jaw. “I don’t know.”

“Really?”

Her smile was terrifying.

Suddenly, the rope holding Lindon slackened.

“Daddy!” my boy screamed.

“Think carefully, Bryden,” Darcy warned. “Your son doesn’t know how to swim.”

“Darcy! That’s your biological son!” I shouted in horror.

“And so is Weston!” she retorted. “And yet you still laid hands on him!”

Her grip on my jaw tightened so hard I thought it might crush.

For the first time in my life, my wife looked at me with pure hatred.

“Lindon has fifteen seconds, Bryden. Make up your mind.”

The bodyguards had already started counting.

“Ten… Nine… Eight… Three… Two—”

“17 Crestwood Street!” I shouted, trembling.

It was the address I’d arranged for Wyatt and his son to be taken to by my men.

This was the only card I had left to play.

Darcy stepped away to make a call. When she hung up, there was a pleased smile on her face.

Just as I began to breathe in relief—she smiled again.

“Lindon can’t swim, Bryden. You’d better hurry.”

The hands restraining me suddenly let go.

At the same moment, the rope suspending Lindon snapped!

“Daddy!”

My son’s small body… plummeted into the ocean!