My Husband’s Two-Year Affair with the Office Receptionist Novel Cover

My Husband’s Two-Year Affair with the Office Receptionist

8.3 / 10.0
In My Husband’s Two-Year Affair with the Office Receptionist, Amaia faces a sudden divorce. This billionaire romance novel follows her 30-day countdown to freedom as she secures her assets and child's future, leaving her unfaithful husband behind in this modern novel.
My Husband’s Two-Year Affair with the Office Receptionist Summary
For two years, my billionaire husband maintained a secret affair with the receptionist at his office, betraying our marriage behind a facade of corporate success. This story explores the shattering of trust as the truth of his infidelity finally surfaces. Trapped in a world of wealth and lies, I must confront the reality of his double life and the woman who helped him hide it. It is a journey of heartbreak and the high stakes of a dying union.
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My Husband’s Two-Year Affair with the Office Receptionist Chapter 1

After twelve years of marriage, my millionaire husband fell for the new receptionist at his company. Approaching forty, she wasn’t as attractive as me, nor did she have my figure, yet in just half a year, she had given him immense emotional support. Calvin looked at me, exhaustion written all over his face, and said, "If we divorce, you can have the house and the car. Amaia, just let me go." I lowered my gaze and replied calmly, "Okay." Then, I bought a calendar and circled a date. The countdown to divorce: 30 days.

When I handed Calvin the divorce agreement, only 40 minutes had passed since he told me about the affair. As per our arrangement, the house, the car, and custody of Noah would be mine. He would give me a one-time payment of $3 million for compensation and child support. After that, Noah and I would no longer be involved in his life. Calvin was in the middle of a conference call. He glanced down at the "Divorce Agreement" and his expression shifted slightly. He nodded to show he understood. I left the room.

To save us both time, I packed all his clothes and belongings. Three suitcases full, to be thorough, including even the old photos from the attic. Lastly, I saw our wedding picture in the corner. In it, Calvin looked handsome, and I was smiling sweetly, holding each other in the sunlight. Back then, he would always whisper, "Honey, I love you so much. How lucky I am to have married you."

Calvin and I met in college. He was a poor student in worn-out sneakers, but despite many suitors, I fell for him instantly. He was calm, kind, and handsome, with countless qualities I admired. After graduating, marrying felt natural, and he started a company with friends. When I got pregnant, I became a full-time homemaker, dedicating myself completely to Calvin and our family.

As the business grew, so did Calvin's workload and social commitments. Amidst the chaos of life, I invested time in fitness and learned about makeup and fashion. Despite his busy schedule, Calvin always helped with Noah and cooking. He also managed in-law relations. To outsiders, we were a model couple, a model family.

I don’t know when things changed, but Calvin started holding meetings late into the night. Sometimes, he wouldn’t come home at all. Friends jokingly warned me to keep an eye on him to avoid problems. Although I reassured them, deep down, I felt uneasy. I’d taken him late-night meals during meetings a few times. Everything seemed normal—a group of people working, with that woman sitting quietly at the reception desk.

Her name was Catalina. In her forties, she was not tall, slender, with short hair. She appeared plain but spoke with a gentleness that belied her looks, greeting me with a smile. Over the years, I’d imagined this day might come. Thought it would be a charming secretary, a spirited college student, or a powerful businesswoman. But I never expected the receptionist.

I’d heard she’d been through a marriage where her husband had cheated, leading to their divorce. This was her first job since then, and she valued it immensely. She’d arrive early, noting everyone’s little habits and occasionally baking treats. Some colleagues even arranged lunch deliveries with her for convenience.

Once I learned about her situation, I even suggested to Calvin that he be more considerate of her. Calvin always replied nonchalantly, "The company isn't a place for personal feelings. I've already advised against transactions beyond work." I’d joked that he was a heartless boss back then. In hindsight, perhaps he felt sorry for Catalina, having to make extra meals after work.

As for why Calvin chose today to bring up divorce, it was simply because I had made him a bowl of chicken noodle soup that morning. He stared at it, sighed, and pushed it slightly away, remaining silent for a long time. Then he suddenly looked at me, his eyes weary, and asked if we could divorce. He confessed to the affair, saying it had been going on for half a year, sneaking away during late nights to be with her.

My heart felt like it was being sifted through a sieve, but I kept my composure. I had to know who. When he said Catalina’s name, I almost didn’t believe my ears. A wave of helplessness washed over me, cold and chilling.

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