A Deadly Secret of My Husband’s Secretary

When I woke up again, I was lying in the guest room of our house.

From outside, I heard Tessa’s silver bell-like laughter echoing through the halls, grating on my nerves like fingernails on glass. A wave of inexplicable anger surged within me.

I got up and walked out.

There she was—Tessa—sitting cross-legged in the living room, giggling as she toyed with something in her hands. My eyes widened in disbelief.

It was the rag doll I had made for my unborn child… torn to shreds.

I rushed toward her and yanked the mutilated doll from her hands. The once soft, fragrant little figure was now filthy, with missing limbs and its seams ripped open. My heart clenched.

Tears slipped from my eyes before I could stop them.

That doll had been my gift—my promise—to the life growing inside me. I had stitched it by hand, clumsily but lovingly, over countless late nights. I wasn’t good at sewing, but I had poured my heart into every single thread, dreaming of the day I would place it in my baby’s arms.

When it was done, I had carefully locked it away in a safe.

Only Bruce and I knew the password.

And yet… he had the audacity to take it—and let her ruin it?

Cradling the ruined doll, I glared at Tessa with fury burning in my chest. I opened my mouth to speak—but before I could utter a single word, a sharp slap cracked across my cheek.

Bruce stood there, face cold, eyes full of scorn.

“Elise, can you stop already?” he barked. “Tessa is pregnant and about to give birth. Can’t you be a little more considerate and let things go?”

My throat tightened. I lifted the torn doll for him to see, my voice trembling.

“Have you forgotten? You and I agreed this was for our child…”

But Bruce cut me off, waving my words away like they were nothing.

“Enough. I don’t want to hear your nonsense. Apologize to Tessa for your behavior—right now.”

He took a step closer, his voice low but filled with warning.

“If you refuse, then we’ll divorce. The Howard Family can’t be tied to an uncultured woman like you.

But Elise, think it through. Your Griffin Family collapsed a decade ago. I’m all you have left. Do you really want your child to be born fatherless? To live in hunger and poverty with you, begging to survive?”

His words struck like knives, each syllable colder than the last.

My heart, once warm with hope, froze completely.

I thought back to the beginning—how excited he’d been about having a baby.

He had read books on prenatal care, researched baby products for hours, dreamed of becoming a father.

But back then, when we were deeply in love, the baby never came. Now, when we were nothing but strangers in the same house… I was pregnant.

He had truly forgotten everything.

Forgotten our vows.

Forgotten the love.

Forgotten me.

Numb, I walked into the kitchen.

I would make one final meal.

A farewell meal.

After that, I would have nothing more to do with Bruce.

He had no idea what was going through my mind.

All he noticed was the dull, lifeless way I moved and for some reason, it made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t name.

I placed the freshly cooked dishes on the table, steam rising gently from the plates. Tessa waddled over, holding her belly and smiling like the queen of the house.

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Howard! You’re spoiling me! These are all my favorite dishes!”

Bruce reached out and stroked her hair gently.

“As long as you like them,” he said with a soft smile. “You’re pregnant. Eat more. You need to take care of yourself.”

I stood nearby, silent, watching their intimate exchange.

At that moment, I no longer felt like a wife—I felt like a maid.

I used to be a pampered young lady who never touched a frying pan.

And now I was serving meals to the woman who had replaced me in my own home.

I remembered how, six months ago, Bruce had insisted I learn how to cook.

How he encouraged me to bring dinner to his office every night. I thought he wanted to show his love to his colleagues—boast about our marriage.

But the truth was, every dish I learned to make… was one of Tessa’s favorites.

Every love-filled lunchbox I had carried in the rain, in the heat, in the cold… had probably gone straight into Tessa’s hands.

Now, right in front of me, Bruce was feeding her like it was the most natural thing in the world. No shame. No guilt.

My body trembled.

But it’s okay.

I’ll be free soon.

This hell I’ve been living in—where I swallow tears instead of food—will come to an end.

I gently caressed my belly.

Before this child is born, I will take him away.

Far from this house.

Far from Bruce.

Far from this cold, unworthy man who calls himself a father.