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A Deadly Secret of My Husband’s Secretary Novel Cover

A Deadly Secret of My Husband’s Secretary

Reeling from a terminal cancer diagnosis during her three-month prenatal check-up, a devastated wife seeks comfort at her husband's company. Instead of solace, she witnesses Mr. Howard passionately embracing his pregnant secretary. Overhearing their cruel exchange, she learns the shocking truth: her husband views her as the true interloper. He vows to divorce her and leave her with absolutely nothing if she dares to interfere with his secret family, shattering her entire world.
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Chapter 3

“Elise, stop right there!”

Bruce’s voice thundered through the corridor, his face darkened with fury.

But I didn’t stop. I quickened my pace and disappeared around the corner without looking back.

The moment I was out of sight, a wave of confusion and helplessness washed over him.

He was just about to run after me when Tessa clutched the hem of his shirt with trembling fingers.

“Mr. Howard…” she whimpered, her voice weak and pitiful. “I… I’m bleeding…”

Bruce looked down and froze—blood was trickling down from between her legs. Panic overtook him in an instant.

“I-I’m fine. It’s nothing…” Tessa stammered, her face pale as a sheet. “You should go after the lady first. What if she does something reckless…”

Her frail voice and selfless concern tore at his heart.

“You’re still thinking about Elise in this state?” Bruce said, cradling her in his arms.

“You’re too kind for your own good.” He looked down at her with tenderness.

“Elise is obsessed with me. She’ll come back and apologize in a few days—I know her. But you—your health comes first now. You’re carrying my child, my firstborn. I’ve placed all my hopes on this baby. Nothing can go wrong!”

Meanwhile, I entered the house and quietly keyed in the code to unlock the door. The room inside was cold, dark and hollow.

This was once the wedding suite for Bruce and me—a space that held countless memories of our life together.

Now, those memories felt like ghosts. Ever since Tessa came into the picture, Bruce barely returned home. Piece by piece, he took his things away, until only traces of him remained.

It was over.

Everything was over.

I no longer wanted any part of the past.

Not the memories, not the emotions.

And certainly not Bruce.

As I pushed open the door to leave again, a strange metallic taste rose in my mouth. My vision blurred, the room spun and I doubled over, coughing up a mouthful of blood before collapsing.

A kind neighbor found me and rushed me to the hospital.

When I finally regained consciousness, the hospital room was dark and silent. I glanced at the clock—it had been two full days. I checked my phone. No messages. No missed calls.

Bruce never came home. Not even once.

I forced myself out of bed, still weak and stumbled into the hallway—just in time to see Bruce carefully supporting Tessa as they walked toward me.

The moment he saw me, confusion flickered in his eyes. Then his expression hardened and suspicion crept into his voice.

“What are you doing here? Following me and Tessa—what are you planning?”

The cold caution in his tone made me laugh bitterly.

“Is this hospital your family’s property now? I can’t be here?”

I stared at him with weary eyes.

“You’re unbelievable, Bruce. Tessa ends up in the hospital and she’s a poor, delicate victim. I end up here and I’m suddenly a schemer? You really know how to break someone’s heart.”

Before he could answer, a nurse appeared beside me.

“Miss Griffin, you’re awake. The test results are back. You—”

She stopped mid-sentence.

Bruce reached out and snatched the report from her hands. His eyes scanned the paper, pausing at the blood type listed in bold.

Then, without a word, he grabbed my wrist and began dragging me down the hall.

“Let go of me, Bruce!” I shouted, stumbling behind him. “What are you doing? Where are you taking me?!”

He said nothing until we reached the blood transfusion room.

He shoved me in front of the attending doctor, yanked up my sleeve and shoved my arm forward.

“She and Tessa have the same blood type,” he barked. “There’s none in the blood bank—take hers.”

I looked up in disbelief, meeting the doctor’s stunned gaze.

“We’ve already requested an emergency supply from a nearby hospital. It should be here any moment,” the doctor replied cautiously.

“I can’t wait,” Bruce snapped. “Do it now. Take hers!”

The doctor hesitated.

“But she’s pregnant. Drawing blood at this stage could be dangerous for her and the fetus.”

Bruce gave an indifferent shrug.

“She’s still in the early stages. It won’t matter.”

His voice was calm—cold.

“No need to convince me. What matters right now is Tessa. Everything else can wait.”

Unable to argue with him further, the doctor gave in.

As the blood drained from my arm, my lips grew pale, then turned an eerie shade of purple. Pain stabbed through my veins, but I clenched my jaw and said nothing.

I stared at the tube, watching my blood flow out slowly, steadily.

I closed my eyes.

Take it.

Take all of it.

Take my blood… take my love for Bruce…

Take everything—and never give it back.

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