His Secret Wife,I Was Never His Girlfriend

I slammed the stack of reports—thick as a notebook—right into his face.

"I quit being your maid!"

I spun around and stormed out, slamming the door behind me.

Blake grabbed my wrist, his voice a low, impatient growl. "Narelle, if you're going to throw a tantrum, at least pick the right time and place!"

I wrenched my arm free and broke into a run.

At the main gate, the facial recognition camera caught my reflection. Only then did I realize tears were streaming down my face.

But the suffocating weight in my chest had finally lifted.

I went back to that hollow excuse for a "home" and started packing.

My suitcase had already been kicked to pieces.

I dug out a mildewed old backpack and stuffed in three summer outfits and one winter coat.

That was everything I owned.

After leaving, I made one more stop—his apartment. The place I'd never been allowed to visit.

The modest two-bedroom unit had long since been transformed into a marital home.

A massive wedding portrait dominated the wall. Photo albums on the nightstand showed a happy family of three. The sheets on the bed still bore damp, sticky stains.

Every detail screamed the truth: I was the other woman. The pathetic, clueless maid.

A large photo album nearby chronicled their relationship—date photos, honeymoon shots, even their baby's one-month celebration.

Handwritten notes accompanied each section:

January: Finally confessed to my senior! She said yes! Yeah!

February: First date with my baby. Tried six restaurants beforehand just to find the perfect one. Watching her eat with such gusto made it all worth it.

June: Got our marriage license right after graduation. Today I'm the happiest man in the world!

So while I'd loved him most desperately, he'd already been cheating.

I opened the drawer and found the red marriage certificate.

Cold dread shot from the top of my skull down through my spine. My fingers trembled uncontrollably. I could barely breathe.

With shaking hands, I photographed the certificate, then the happy family portrait.

Then I took off the marble bracelet I'd never once removed and hurled it to the floor.

He'd given it to me at graduation, claiming he couldn't afford anything better yet but promising to buy me something nicer someday.

I stared at the photo of Lavinia's hand, adorned with a massive diamond ring.

It was never about money. I just wasn't worth it.

I put everything back in place, shouldered that worn-out backpack, and said goodbye to my youth.

The door swung open. Blake was back.

His eyes swept over the shattered bracelet on the floor, then snapped to the rumpled sheets. His gaze turned venomous.

"Who said you could come in here?"

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to. You made Mom sick and you still have the nerve to show your face? Get to the hospital and kneel before her to apologize!"

I met his furious glare with icy calm. All I felt was satisfaction.

"Mr. Dickerson, I'm done doing thankless work for you."

I grabbed the framed family photo and smashed it into his face.

"Let your wife and son do the kneeling!"

Glass sliced two bloody gashes across his cheek, making him look like a demon crawling out of hell.

"What did you just say? Don't forget—I fed you and housed you for eight years! Without me, who else would take you in?"

"Don't trouble yourself over that! I may have no parents, but I won't be bullied by scum like you! Since you called me a maid, you owe me eight years of wages plus every mortgage payment I made. Transfer it to my account. I have records of every single transaction. Pay up, or I'll see you in court!"

I turned, slung that battered backpack over my shoulder, and slammed the door behind me.