Husband Chooses Secretary Over His Wife

By the time I arrived at the hospital with the soup, dawn was breaking.

The hospital room was empty, and no one answered when I called. Left with no other choice, I dialed Blake's assistant, Ismael.

“Ma’am? The boss has gone to Berlin with Ms. Amaya. He said they needed a break.”

Feeling exhausted, I prepared to head home again, my mind growing increasingly foggy. Just before I lost consciousness, I instinctively protected my stomach—my baby.

The sensation of a cold liquid flowing into my veins chilled me to the bone. When I awoke, I found myself lying on a hospital bed, an IV drip attached to my arm.

With both hands immobilized, I stared blankly at the ceiling, boredom tugging at me. I painstakingly unlocked my phone, only to find dozens of missed calls from Blake. A smirk played on my lips as I prepared to call him back.

But then the door swung open. Blake entered, looking worn and weary from the trip. I smiled at him, but that smile froze as I caught sight of Amaya behind him.

Seeing that I was okay, Blake visibly relaxed. He couldn’t help but chide me, “Why didn’t you say anything about feeling unwell?”

It was Amaya who pushed us to cut the trip short to come back and check on you.

His words sank my heart. So, it was only because Amaya wanted to return that you came, Blake?

As tears slipped down my cheeks, Amaya flashed a triumphant grin. She approached with feigned concern, “Don't listen to him, Mrs. Morgan. He came back because he was worried about you.”

She then poked at my bandaged hand, curiosity lacing her voice. “Mrs. Morgan, aren't you being a bit too sensitive? I got burned too, but I didn't make such a fuss.”

The jab of pain caused my hand to jerk upwards instinctively. "Ah!" Amaya stumbled backward, grabbing onto my IV stand.

“I… I didn’t touch you!” I said, desperately trying to prove my innocence to Blake.

But he supported Amaya and, once she was steady, slapped me without hesitation. My ear rang, and my face swelled immediately.

Blake watched Amaya's tiny wounds with concern, tenderly comforting her. Then he turned to me, shouting, “You witch! Amaya kindly came to see you, and this is how you repay her?”

“She’s right; you’re just being dramatic. I shouldn’t have come. It’s just a cold; it’s not like you’re dying.”

With that, he left with Amaya, leaving me alone to stare at my hand, bleeding where the needle had torn my skin.

You call me dramatic, but wasn’t it you who spoiled me? You promised after we got married that I’d never face hardship, never suffer an injustice. But why, Blake, are you now the source of all this hurt and humiliation?

What am I supposed to do, Blake?

Looking at the mess around me, a nurse scolded me as she changed my bandages, chatting with another nurse.

“Mr. Morgan truly spoils his wife. He was so worried over a little cut on her face.”

“Yes, yes, last time when hot water splashed her, he called every nurse over.”

“But this Mrs. Morgan doesn’t look older than 20!”

“Well, with wealth comes excellent upkeep!”

I laughed bitterly at their words. “She’s not Mrs. Morgan; she’s just a mistress.”

They looked at me as if I had spoken some outrageous blasphemy. The younger one couldn’t hold back, quickly retorting, “I think you’re just past your prime! Sour grapes, much? You’re just jealous because they’re a perfect match!”

The other nurse apologized, covering her colleague’s mouth as she pulled her out of the room.

I lifted my hand, noting the obvious swelling from pregnancy, and tears flowed as I chuckled sadly.

This child couldn’t have come at a worse time. Baby, why did you have to arrive when your dad loves your mom the least?