Billionaire Husband Got Secretary Pregnant, I Bankrupted Him

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband’s office.

Walking past the secretary's suite, I stopped dead. A king-size bed had been set up inside.

A young woman in a designer dress was sprawled across it, a handheld game console in her hands, surrounded by imported snacks of every variety.

"Kevin, the lunch you ordered yesterday was pre-packaged meals. Marcus and I both felt sick after eating it. Today, make sure it's from The Palace Hotel."

Kevin -- my husband's personal assistant -- bowed and scraped before her, his face a mask of obsequious flattery.

"Mrs. Thorne, please don't worry. Mr. Thorne made it very clear -- everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. He knows you love the chef at The Palace Hotel, so he set up a standing VIP account for you. Anything you want, anytime."

She was Mrs. Thorne? Then what exactly was I?

My brow furrowed. I glanced down at the wedding ring I'd worn for years.

The girl beamed, radiant.

"For the baby's arrival, my husband is throwing a lavish yacht party. Every important person in New York is getting an invitation. I want the whole world to know that I'm the love of his life, and that our son will be blessed by the most powerful people before he's even born. The champagne and flowers must be the finest available -- no budget limit. Our child is going to have the best of everything from day one."

I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father.

"Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago -- you can have the lawyers send it over now."

On our third wedding anniversary, I brought a gift to my husband's office. But as I passed his secretary's suite, I saw a young woman lying on a king-size bed.

My husband's personal assistant was very respectful to her: "Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne ordered that everything should be tailored to your preferences and the baby's. Anything you want, anytime."

I stared at the gentle swell of her belly and called my father.

"Dad, that divorce agreement you drew up three years ago—you can have the lawyers send it over now."

I'd barely hung up when the girl climbed off the bed.

"My husband's spending the afternoon with me, reading stories to our baby. Unless it's urgent, don't bother us. Don't interrupt our little family's quality time."

She tossed the instructions at Kevin, then skipped off toward the CEO's office next door.

As she passed me, I noticed the diamond bracelet on her wrist.

It was the same one I'd had my eye on at an auction two weeks ago -- the one a mystery buyer had outbid everyone for, driving the price sky-high.

So that was it.

The mystery buyer who'd spent a fortune just to make his girlfriend smile was my husband, Marcus Thorne.

My gaze drifted toward the CEO's office.

The girl was straddling Marcus's lap, her arms looped around his neck. Marcus -- the man whose germophobia was legendary -- was smiling as he opened his mouth and bit the french fry dangling from her lips.

Then they kissed, deep and lingering, as though they couldn't bear to pull apart.

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning.

"Baby, when are you going to tell that old hag the truth? Our baby can't wait forever. You're the CEO now -- you don't need to tiptoe around her anymore."

"I know she stuck by you through the hard times, but I can do that too."

Her voice was coy, breathy, dripping with seduction.

Marcus pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"Alright. Tonight, I'll lay it all out for her. I'll bring you in with all the fanfare you deserve. Everything I own will be yours."

His words wrapped around me like a wave of ice.

I stared in disbelief at the man who, barely thirty minutes ago, had told me on the phone that he loved me. That he missed me.

He was planning to clean me out.

Too bad for him.

He seemed to have forgotten that with a single word from me, I could take back everything he had.

I walked straight into the office.

The moment Marcus saw me, panic flashed across his face.

Instinctively, he shoved the girl off his lap.

She wasn't braced for it and crashed to the floor.

Marcus looked horrified -- but not for me.

He rushed to help her up.

She buried herself in his arms, biting her lip, tears spilling down her cheeks in a pitiful cascade.

Marcus couldn't hide his tenderness.

His large hand gently wiped her tears away.

It was a long moment before he settled her, calmer now, onto the sofa.

His gaze finally landed on me.

The disgust and contempt in his eyes were unmistakable.

"Vivienne, look at yourself. You've let yourself go -- it's honestly repulsive."

The girl nestled against him, her eyes raking over me from head to toe. She snorted with laughter. "Marcus, could a pig in a diet commercial even be this bad?"

Marcus glanced at me.

"She's always been blunt -- don't take it personally. She just lost her footing and fell into me. Don't read too much into it."

My expression remained perfectly composed.

I sat across from them, crossed my legs with unhurried elegance.

"The reason I gained weight was to give you the child you wanted so badly. I was pumped full of hormones, swallowed more pills than I can count."

Marcus's eyes went evasive; he couldn't meet my gaze.

The girl's smile only grew brighter.

"Oh, sweetie, at your age, if you still can't get pregnant, it's probably because you were too wild in your younger days. All those consequences catching up to you."

I poured myself a cup of tea, utterly unruffled. "Marcus, are you blind? How could you fall for someone like that? I happen to know one of the top ophthalmologists in the world."

Marcus caught the barb. His face cycled between ashen and livid.

"Her name is Amber Holloway. She's a secretary I hired six months ago. She's fresh out of school, hasn't been around many people -- she speaks her mind a little too freely. Don't hold it against her."

Amber tugged shyly at Marcus's sleeve. "It's your fault, you know. You've spoiled me rotten."

Her sudden kiss caught Marcus off guard.

"Wait outside," he told her.

Amber pouted but stood up.

She walked over and stopped right in front of me.

A dismissive curl of her lip. "Sweetie, you're way past your prime. Marcus told me the weekly bedroom duties are such a chore he can barely stand it."

I took a sip of my tea, then rose to my feet.

I grabbed a fistful of Amber's hair and yanked hard.

Her carefully made-up face slammed into the desk.

"He might put up with you, but I sure as hell won't."