My Husband’s Assistant Turned My Design into Sandwich Paper, He regretted It Too Late

After a relentless week of sleepless nights and back-to-back overtime, I finally produced a design that won the client’s approval.

Yet just as I was about to sign the contract, I found the design drawings on my desk had gone.

In their place, the sandwich wrappers the new assistant was selling to my colleagues looked disturbingly familiar.

I confronted her on the spot, my voice sharp with anger, demanding why she had used my design drawings as sandwich wrappers. Her eyes instantly brimmed with tears.

"I’m so sorry, Lana. I thought they were just scrap paper you didn’t need. This is my first time running a business and I was only trying to cut costs wherever I could."

Then my husband, Daniel Sanford, slapped a pay slip into my hands, the numbers glaring up at me—an overdue debt of one hundred thousand dollars.

"Mila is just starting her first small business. It’s nothing worth fussing over that she used your design to wrap sandwiches."

"You’re the careless one here, making mistake after mistake and costing the company huge losses. Keep this up and I'll fire you on the spot."

Yet, when I truly handed him both the divorce agreement and my resignation letter, just as he had demanded, panic flickered in his eyes.

——

Hearing Daniel’s words, disbelief crashed over me.

"That design took me an entire week! It’s a core piece for the company’s IPO later this year!"

"And now it’s wrapping sandwiches?"

Daniel cut me off, his voice thick with impatience.

"Enough, Lana Delmare. You just can’t stand seeing Mila make a little money, can you?"

"She just graduated and life hasn’t been easy for her. You’ve been here for over ten years. Can’t you stop targeting a young girl?"

"Besides, if you hadn’t carelessly left such an important design lying around, she wouldn’t have mistakenly taken it."

"Go pay the fine and finish the remaining proposals. The client’s already waiting."

Fine?

Confused, I took the freshly printed pay slip from Mila’s hands.

When my eyes landed on the negative one hundred thousand at the bottom, my breath caught in my throat.

So, I confronted Mila right on the spot.

"My base salary is 2,500 a month, plus bonuses—that’s at least 5,000 to 7,000, right?"

"Then why does this say I owe 100,000? How exactly did you calculate that?"

Daniel stepped in at once, shielding her behind him.

"What are you shouting for?"

"You were absent nearly every day last month and even when you did work, you made mistake after mistake. If it weren’t for Mila cleaning up after you, you would owe the company even more!"

"Pay the fine now—or even as my wife, I’ll fire you!"

My chest tightened like a vice.

Daniel Sanford and I had married young, spending ten years supporting each other as we built this company from the ground up.

His business sense was mediocre at best, so to keep the company alive, I shouldered role after role and worked endlessly.

He was the one who brought in the new assistant, Mila Palmer.

She spent her days peddling unregulated homemade lunches, accomplishing little else. Whenever I confronted her, she only wept pitifully.

"Lana, I just graduated and I’m short on money. Our colleagues need to eat and they all say they love the lunches I make."

I told her this had nothing to do with whether people liked it or not—running a side business in the company was absolutely unacceptable.

Besides, her lunches had no proper certification. What if someone got sick?

She nodded in agreement, then climbed onto the company rooftop, claiming she could not afford her living expenses and had no choice but to end her life.

To save her, Daniel immediately bought her a city-center apartment, gave her the highest salary in the company and even allowed her to continue running her side business at work.

Even projects I had nearly completed were taken from me by Daniel and credited as Mila’s work.