My Husband Chose His Secretary Over Me

Elaine Austin's fever spiked, fueled by the emotional storm and sheer shock that had swept over her. As she lay there, her mind was a fogged maze, every thought slipping away before she could grab it.

Jeffrey Jackson stayed by her bedside, keeping watch from dusk until dawn. Even through the haze, Elaine felt his attentiveness—the way he gently coaxed her to sip water and take her meds. He'd even told the doctor to be extra careful with the needle, knowing full well how terrified she was of them. That careful tenderness was a cruel echo of a time when their love wasn't covered in cracks.

Sometimes, Elaine almost let herself buy into the idea that the ugly truths were nothing but a bad dream. Once she got better, she'd tell herself, everything would snap back to how it used to be—back when Jeffrey's heart belonged to her, and only her.

But when she jolted awake and met Jeffrey's indifferent stare, that illusion shattered. The tenderness had only been a fleeting dream—and reality, ugly and raw, pressed down on her.

Jeffrey stood at the foot of the bed, dressed to perfection, the sharp smell of disinfectant clinging to him. His voice cut through the air: "I just came back from the hospital. Is this the chaos you're satisfied with?"

Her head still swimming, Elaine instinctively shrank from him, burrowing deeper into the blanket. The tiny retreat only seemed to fuel his anger, and he grabbed her arm, yanking her out of bed. "Do you have any idea that Lilian's asthma attack almost killed her because of your reckless stunt? How the hell can you lie there so calmly?"

"It had nothing to do with me," Elaine rasped.

"Nothing to do with you?" Jeffrey grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Then let me tell you something that sure as hell does concern you."

"I leaked doctored photos of you with one of my guards. I told the press you were the one having an affair—that you were erratic, unhinged, clinging to a marriage that died months ago..."

Elaine's hand flew across his face in a sharp slap, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You liar!"

Jeffrey's jaw tightened, and a cold laugh slipped out. "No, Elaine, you're the shameless one here. We could've ended this cleanly, but you had to go after the woman I love."

"Why? At eighteen, you were so sure I'd never cheat on you. But at twenty-eight, you can't wrap your head around the idea that I've stopped loving you?"

"Are you really that naive? You can't see that you lost me through your own damn choices? Instead, you'd rather blame someone who's innocent."

Elaine tried to slap him again, but he caught her wrist. Then he grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the house, half dragging her, half shoving her.

"Since you've moved on, stop clinging to someone else's life. Get out." His voice was flat, completely void of emotion.

The door slammed behind her, the gust of air almost knocking her off balance.

Before she could steady herself, a swarm of reporters materialized out of nowhere, closing in with a barrage of intrusive questions.

The wall of microphones felt suffocating. She looked around at faces hungry for scandal, dripping with disdain. Then she lifted her eyes to the second floor, where Jeffrey stood—a shadowy figure beside him.

Lilian was there, wrapped in an ill-fitting formal dress that seemed to swallow her, her arm coiled around Jeffrey's waist. From a distance, they looked like a perfect couple.

No wonder he'd been so quick to toss Elaine aside—he needed room for his new girl.

Elaine gave a wry smile and leaned into the microphone, her voice steady and clear.

"Yes, it's over between us. We're getting a divorce."

A reporter pushed harder: "Does that mean you were the one who broke your vows first?"

"Betrayal?" Elaine gave a bitter laugh. "When the love is dead, a marriage can become nothing but a name. I don't love him anymore—so whatever story you came here for, it's already over."

For a moment, the reporters were stunned by her blunt honesty.

Seizing her chance, Elaine slipped past them and ducked into a quiet alley, then made her way down the long street. The biting wind ripped at her, tearing apart whatever was left of those warm memories.

Saying she didn't love him anymore turned out to be easier than she'd ever imagined.

Maybe it was inevitable—Jeffrey's heart had drifted away long ago, and she'd never even felt it go.

Her phone buzzed—a new message from him. He'd sent a picture of a ring, asking if she liked it.