After My Husband Proposed to His Mistress, I Stopped Hiding

I was scrolling through my phone during my lunch break when the notification appeared. Chloe had tagged me in a post. My stomach dropped—nothing good ever came from Chloe acknowledging my existence publicly.

With trembling fingers, I opened the app. There I was, but not as I remembered. The photo showed me glaring at Ryan and Chloe across a conference room, my expression twisted into something that looked unhinged, almost deranged. I knew immediately it had been manipulated—the original was from last week's quarterly review where I'd been focused on taking notes.

"When the help gets a little too... attached," read Chloe's caption. "Some people just can't accept reality. #boundaries #workplaceissues #knowyourplace"

The comments section was already flooding with responses:

"OMG, is that his stalker assistant? So creepy!"

"Girl, you better watch your back!"

"She looks like she's plotting murder lol"

"That plain Jane needs to realize she's not in his league"

I closed the app with shaking hands, feeling nauseated—though whether from the cancer or the humiliation, I couldn't tell. The cruel irony wasn't lost on me: I was legally Ryan's wife, yet to the world, I was the delusional employee pining after her boss.

Later that afternoon, I was delivering files to legal when I turned a corner and nearly collided with Chloe. She was leaving Ryan's office, her perfume hanging heavily in the air between us.

"Oh, Elizabeth," she said, her smile gleaming with practiced perfection. "Did you see my post? Got nearly ten thousand likes already."

I clutched the files tighter against my chest, feeling the weight of my diagnosis pressing down on me. "Why are you doing this?"

Her eyes narrowed, the smile never faltering. She glanced around to ensure we were alone before leaning close, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"Disappear quietly, or I'll ruin you," she hissed, her breath hot against my ear. "Whatever pathetic fantasy you've built in your head about Ryan, kill it. He's mine. He's always been mine. You're nothing but convenient help."

She pulled back, adjusting her designer blazer. "And honestly, you're not even that good at your job. I could replace you tomorrow."

As she walked away, her heels clicking confidently on the marble floor, I felt something shift inside me. The fear and shame that had governed me for seven years began to crystallize into something harder, something that felt dangerously like resolve.

The next morning, I sat in the boardroom, preparing for the quarterly investor meeting. My stomach was churning—I'd skipped my medication, knowing it would make me drowsy during this crucial presentation. Ryan paced at the head of the table while board members and executives filed in.

Jacob Reid entered last, nodding politely to everyone. When his eyes met mine, I saw that same quiet assessment I'd noticed at the gala. I quickly looked down at my notes.

Halfway through Ryan's presentation, a sharp pain knifed through my abdomen. I tried to breathe through it, but cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The room tilted slightly.

"Ms. Carter, are you taking notes on this section?" Ryan's voice cut through the haze of pain.

"Yes, I—" Another wave hit, stronger than the first. I couldn't hide my grimace. "I'm sorry, I need to excuse myself for a moment."

I stood carefully, but Ryan's voice stopped me before I could reach the door.

"Sit down, Elizabeth." His tone was glacial. "We're in the middle of a critical presentation."

"I really must—"

"Your unprofessionalism is becoming a pattern," he said loudly, addressing the room as much as me. "If you can't handle the basic requirements of your position, perhaps we should discuss your future with the company."

The room fell silent. I felt every eye on me, including Jacob's, whose brow had furrowed in concern.

"I apologize," I managed, sinking back into my chair as another wave of pain crashed through me. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, determined not to show weakness.

After the meeting, I hurried to the restroom, splashing cold water on my face. When I emerged, Jacob Reid was waiting in the corridor.

"Ms. Carter," he said quietly, extending a business card. "If you ever need anything—professional or otherwise—please don't hesitate to call."

Before I could respond, his eyes flicked to something over my shoulder. I turned to see a security camera pointed directly at us, its red light blinking steadily.

"Thank you, Mr. Reid," I said formally, taking the card.

I had barely slipped it into my pocket when Ryan appeared, his expression thunderous.

"In my office. Now," he ordered, before turning to Jacob with a cold smile. "Fishing for inside information, Reid? That's beneath even you."

Jacob's expression remained impassive. "Just extending professional courtesy to a colleague who appeared unwell."

"Elizabeth isn't your colleague," Ryan said sharply. "And whatever game you're playing, keep her out of it."

As Ryan led me away, his grip painful on my arm, I caught Jacob's final glance. In that moment, I realized I had just become a pawn in yet another power game between powerful men—only this time, I wasn't sure whose agenda would destroy me first.