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

"Put on some clothes," I said flatly. "Let’s talk about the divorce agreement."

"Noah." She rushed after me and grabbed my wrist. "What do you want from me?"

"You know how much I love you," she pleaded. "I don’t want a divorce."

I stopped and turned to face her, staring straight into her eyes.

"If you don’t want a divorce, fine," I said evenly. "Then fire Glen—effective immediately—and promise me you'll never contact him again."

"Can you do that?"

She froze. Her grip loosened and she took a half step back, visibly stunned.

"You want me to fire someone that important to the company," she said slowly, "just because he’s my assistant?"

"Important?" I scoffed. "He’s been here six months and hasn’t closed a single deal on his own. He’s only holding onto his job because of you."

"You’re not stupid, Wynona. You’re a grown woman. Stop pretending you don’t see what’s right in front of you."

Her cheeks flushed with anger. "You’re being ridiculous. Glen is dedicated, responsible—even you can’t deny that. Without him, this deal wouldn’t be—"

"Wouldn’t be what? Without him, your work wouldn’t have changed a bit, would it?" I cut in sharply. "But you let him bleed into every part of our lives."

"You brought him on our anniversary trip. He sat at the next table while we had our dinner. And now, you defend him even right here, in our room, beside our bed."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her black lingerie rising with each breath, casting flickering shadows in the moonlight.

Once, the sight would have drawn me to her.

Now, all I felt was bone-deep exhaustion.

"You don’t understand," she said, her voice softening. "This is how the job works. I need his support—"

"I’m not negotiating," I snapped, cutting her off. "It’s him or me, Wynona Rhodes. That’s it. No middle ground. No third option."

Her eyes widened, as though she had not expected me to draw the line so clearly.

And then, a sudden shrill ring shattered the moment.

She rushed to the bedside table, glanced at the screen and immediately tensed. I did not need to look. I already knew who it was.

She picked up and her voice quickly shifted from worry to full-blown panic. "What? You fell? Are you hurt badly?"

"…Okay, I’ll be right there."

She hung up and scrambled to grab a coat, barely thinking to cover herself, still in the lingerie she had put on to seduce me.

"Wynona," I said, my voice calm and cold. "If you walk out that door tonight, we’re done. For good."

Her hand froze on the doorknob. The room went silent, time stretching so thin I could hear the pounding of my own heart.

Three seconds.

Five.

She turned to look at me and there was something in her eyes I could not recognize—something I had never seen before.

"Noah," she said, voice trembling, almost pleading. "Don’t do this. Glen is really hurt. We’re overseas and he’s here alone. There’s no one else to help him…"

"So what?"

I stood tall, unmoved. "The hotel has a doctor. Room service. An ambulance, if needed. He’s a grown man, not a toddler. And you’re not his mother."

"But he was working late—"

"Choose," I interrupted, my voice firm and unwavering. "Right now, Wynona. No excuses."

Her lips parted, trembling. Something flickered in her eyes—something I could not name.

Then she exhaled slowly before saying, "I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon."

And just like that, the last sliver of hesitation slipped out the door with her.

I stayed behind, reached for my phone and dialed a number.