After Five Years My Husband Chose His Secretary

Emery paused for a moment, noticing Jaiden's intense expression, and then backed out of the room.

Signatures, fingerprints, the official stamp—everything was finalized in just a few minutes. Who knew that ending a relationship could be so straightforward? Five years entwined together, undone in five minutes.

Now, even the divorce certificate looked celebratory in its bright red form. How ironic that a divorce could feel like something to rejoice over.

Jaiden gave me one final look. There was no hesitation, no deep emotion. He didn’t say a word before turning to leave. I watched as his figure grew smaller until it vanished, side by side with Emery.

Jaiden never realized how many times I had watched him walk away. Before we were married, he’d leave reluctantly, looking back at me every few steps. We would share a silly smile.

Then his grandfather pushed him into marrying me. Since then, he’d leave without ever looking back. It was always me watching his retreating back.

Jaiden, goodbye. Let this be the end.

A sharp pain stabbed in my chest, and I couldn’t stop the nosebleed. Thankfully, Jaiden didn’t turn around to see my disheveled state.

Emery asked to meet, and I agreed. She arranged the meeting in the high-end apartment Jaiden had bought for her—a prime piece of real estate in the heart of Manhattan, elegantly decorated, far nicer than where I lived. Jaiden certainly didn’t mind spending money on his mistress.

Emery sat confidently, lazily fiddling with her manicure. I crossed my legs, leaning back in a relaxed manner.

"I could file a lawsuit to reclaim any property Jaiden bought for his mistress with our marital assets," I said.

Emery's smug smile instantly vanished.

"Let's get to the point. I'm quite busy," I said, resting my head on my hand, waiting for whatever challenge this young woman might present.

"Ada, you've already divorced Jaiden. You’ve gotten your share. Let him go."

"Professionally, as the vice president, I still have the authority to fire a secretary."

"Personally, you, the mistress who drove away the wife, think that's something to boast about?" I replied coldly, looking at Emery with both pity and disdain.

"Jaiden loves me. You're just an aging woman, stop dreaming!" Emery yelled, feeling humiliated by my indifference.

I pressed the stop button on the recorder.

With evidence in hand, I played the recording. Moments ago, Emery had been flaunting her triumph; now she was silent, subdued.

"I've already discarded Jaiden like the trash he is. If you want him, take him. Just don’t bother me again."

Were it not for the fact that my life was nearing its end, with money holding little meaning beyond medical expenses, I would have taken the opportunity to teach Emery a lesson. In the end, I sent the recording to Jaiden—not out of spite, but to show him Emery’s true colors.

I despised Jaiden, but I still wished him well. Consider it a favor repaid to Donald. From now on, let our paths diverge. I hope he finds someone trustworthy.

I resigned from my position as vice president of Armstrong Industries and headed to a renowned hospital in Florida for treatment. Before being admitted, I often brooded over life’s unfairness, the cruelty of disease. But at the hospital, I met others worse off than me, with more severe illnesses, unable to afford treatment—the hallways teemed with tragic stories.

I engaged actively in my treatment regimen, hoping for a miracle. Initially, I stayed in a shared ward, bustling with activity. Watching the other patients' families visiting, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of loneliness.

In this world, there was no one left to care for me.