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The Day Her Assistant Wore My Pajamas, I Filed for a Divorce Novel Cover

The Day Her Assistant Wore My Pajamas, I Filed for a Divorce

Noah spent nine months meticulously preparing the perfect anniversary getaway for his wife, Wynona. However, his efforts are shattered when she insists on bringing her male assistant along under the guise of work obligations. Disregarding Noah's objections, she ruins the trip. By the third day, Noah reaches his breaking point and officially files for divorce, determined to end their marriage immediately so they can both walk away with their dignity intact.
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Chapter 2

"Shut up," I snapped at Glen, my voice cold and sharp, with no effort to conceal the contempt dripping from every word.

Wynona’s brows knitted in shock. "Noah! How can you talk to Glen like that? He’s my most capable assistant!"

I let out a low, bitter laugh. "Capable, huh? Then tell me—how much has he actually contributed to the company? How many major deals has he closed? How many clients has he brought in?"

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Glen lowered his head, playing the part of the humbled employee. "Mr. Saunders is right. I still have a lot to improve. I haven’t done enough to lighten Mrs. Rhodes’s workload."

As if on cue, Wynona placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, her eyes full of concern, before turning that same sharp gaze back on me.

"Noah, that’s enough!"

"Glen has been working around the clock on this deal. Can’t you see how dedicated he is? What gives you the right to question him?"

"Day and night?" I scoffed. "Yes, even during our anniversary trip, he’s been glued to your side day and night. Truly commendable dedication."

Her face flushed. She raised her voice, clearly losing her patience. "Do you have to be so sarcastic all the time?"

"Glen is my assistant, Noah. He’s doing his job. What’s wrong with that? Do you want me to drop everything just to soothe your insecurities?"

"Insecurities?" I echoed.

I repeated her words slowly, the absurdity of it all crashing over me.

Then, I pointed straight at Glen. "You shared a room with him until almost dawn, while I—your husband—slept alone in an empty bed."

"He touched your hand, Wynona, right in front of me. And you didn’t even flinch."

"Since the day he joined the company, every time something goes wrong, you defend him and blame me."

"You never question him for all that—not even once. And now you’re telling me I’m the unreasonable one?"

Glen jumped in quickly, like he had rehearsed the script. "Mr. Saunders, please, don’t get the wrong idea. I have nothing but respect for Mrs. Rhodes. I would never cross that line."

"No other thoughts?" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. "Even you don’t sound like you believe that. So why should I?"

That was the final spark. Wynona snapped like a lit fuse. She stepped in front of him, shielding him as though I were the one attacking.

"Noah, stop this nonsense!" she shouted. "Glen is my employee and my friend. I won’t let you insult him!"

I stared at her. I searched her eyes, desperate for a flicker of guilt, even a flicker of doubt. But there was nothing. Just anger and defiance.

And suddenly, all the fire in me just burned out. I was so tired.

I did not want to hear another word. So, I turned and walked away.

"Noah!" she called after me, panic suddenly creeping into her voice. "Where are you going?"

I did not even look back.

That evening, I sat alone on the terrace, smoking in silence as the sky faded into a blanket of dark blue. Eventually, Wynona returned.

"Noah," she called out gently, her tone far softer than it had been earlier, coated now with just the right amount of sweetness. "There are too many mosquitoes out here. Come inside, won't you?"

I did not respond. I just kept my eyes fixed on the horizon, where the ocean met the darkness.

She sighed, walked closer and reached out to take the cigarette from between my fingers.

I shifted slightly, just enough to keep it out of reach. Her hand froze midair, fingers hanging there for a beat too long before she slowly let them fall back to her side.

"Don’t be like this," she said softly, her voice almost a whisper now. "Can’t we just talk—really talk?"

For the first time that evening, I looked at her.

She was wearing black lingerie. The sheer fabric barely covered anything and it shimmered under the moonlight.

It was the same set I had given her on our honeymoon. Back then, she said it was too revealing, so she refused to wear it. I never thought she would bring it here.

"Does it look good on me?"

She tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. I stubbed out my cigarette, stood and walked past her without a word, heading back into the room.

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