My Billionaire Wife Chose Her Secretary Over Me

She was always like this—dictating everything, never letting me go home after we got married.

Every visit sparked a fight. To monitor my every move, she'd installed cameras with two-way audio in every corner of the estate villa. If I didn't respond immediately, she'd fly into a rage, interrogating me about why I'd ignored her.

I didn't want the kids watching us tear into each other day after day, so I'd patiently explain that I just wanted to see my parents—it had been so long.

But my parents hated seeing me and Selina at each other's throats over something as simple as a visit. They'd smile sadly and tell me to go home, saying a video call now and then was enough.

That one sentence gave Selina all the ammunition she needed.

To keep me tethered to the house, she fired every housekeeper and nanny, leaving me to run the entire household alone.

I used to think it meant she valued me. That she couldn't bear to be without me.

Now I saw it for what it was: a pathological need to own and control.

This time, the kids finally had a seven-day break from preschool. I wanted to take them to see their grandparents.

Selina shut me down cold. Then she took the children and left.

"You married into my family," she said, ice in her voice. "That makes you a Weiss. The second there's a holiday, you want to drag the kids back to your people? Have you even considered that my parents might want to see their grandchildren? God, you're selfish."

She slammed the door on her way out.

Then she had someone bolt the villa from the outside. Cut the water. Cut the power. She was going to make me grovel.

To make sure I couldn't reach her, she pulled her SIM card and powered off her phone.

Which meant the hospital couldn't get through to tell her that her parents were dying.

They called me instead.

I was still furious, but I knew this wasn't the time. I kept calling until she finally picked up.

"Your parents were in a car accident. Transfer a million dollars to the hospital right now, then meet me there."

Her voice dripped with contempt. "Those are your parents, not mine. If something happened to them, deal with it yourself. Or do you expect your daughter-in-law to come running like some kind of servant?"

She hung up.

I tried calling back. My phone was dead.

I was trapped in that villa—no water, no power—for three days.

Her parents' bodies were probably stiff in the morgue by now.

But I couldn't think about that anymore. Three days without a drop of water. My stomach condition was already bad; now I barely had the strength to call for help.

It hit me again: she genuinely didn't care if I lived or died. She never had.

I thought about the children's cold words, and I knew—this marriage was over.

I didn't want my wife anymore. I didn't want my kids anymore.

I just wanted a divorce.

Click.

The door finally opened.

The sudden light stabbed my eyes. All I could hear was Adrian's suggestive voice:

"Am I really the only one who gets to work overtime at the boss's house?"

Selina's tone was indulgent, almost flirtatious. "Of course. Not just anyone gets invited here."

I didn't rush out to greet them like I always used to.

Selina's displeasure was instant. She raised her voice, dripping with sarcasm: "If the kids' father wasn't so desperate to run back to his little village, I wouldn't have had to trouble you to help with them."

Adrian gazed at her, his eyes soft with adoration. "It's my job to help my boss. Honestly, your husband is out of line—how could he just abandon his wife like that? When I get married someday, family will come first. I'd never leave the woman I love."

Both boys threw themselves into Adrian's arms. "Don't get married, Daddy Adrian! We want to be your kids! Don't get married!"

Adrian looked at Selina, hesitant, longing. "But a man has to settle down eventually..."

Selina was about to respond when her gaze caught me slumped against the sofa, barely conscious.

The smile vanished from her face. "How long have you been lurking there, eavesdropping? All these years and you still can't drop that sneaky, underhanded behavior."

She rolled her eyes at me. The boys mimicked her, staring at me with open disgust.

Adrian positioned himself beside Selina, all magnanimous charm. "Hello. I don't mean anything by this—the young masters just needed someone to look after them, so I'm staying for a few days."

A few days. Yet he was dragging an enormous suitcase behind him, like he'd packed up his entire life.

I looked at Selina, exhausted, clinging to whatever shred of feeling remained. "Three days ago, your parents were in a car accident. They're in critical condition. You need to get to Riverton City Hospital. Now."

Her eyes turned to ice. "Don't try to manipulate me with lies. It was your parents in that accident. What does that have to do with mine?"

Adrian frowned. "Even if you're angry, you shouldn't curse your own in-laws. They've been good to you."

Selina grabbed my arm and yanked me off the sofa. "My parents would never be careless enough to get themselves killed. This is just another scheme you and your family cooked up, isn't it?"

Before I could answer, she shoved me toward the door. "You wanted to leave so badly—so why are you still here? Can't bear to give up the lifestyle, can you?"

Days without food had left me too weak to resist. Her rough handling scraped my knees raw against the floor.

Her parents had treated me decently. I couldn't just let them lie there in that cold hospital. I forced the words out:

"Selina, your parents are really at the hospital. Just go see them and you'll know I'm not—ah!"

She seized a fistful of my hair and wrenched my head back. "Shut up!"

The boys clapped and cheered, bouncing with excitement. "Hit the bad daddy! Hit him!"

Adrian watched with barely concealed glee, then made a show of intervening. "Now, now, don't be too hard on him. He's just jealous—got a little confused. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Selina let go with a cold snort. "You're too kind, speaking up for him. Have you already forgotten how he made those snide comments on your social media?"

"A grown man, and all he does is sulk and seethe with jealousy. Who knows where he picked up such petty habits."

Adrian put on a wounded expression. "It's just part of the job. A little mistreatment comes with the territory."

They played off each other perfectly, as if I were the villain in their little drama.

My heart went cold and still. Everything Selina had done—it was like she'd taken every ounce of devotion I'd poured into this marriage and ground it into the dirt.

I stared at them, my voice flat. "Fine. Your parents are perfectly fine. I made it all up. And yes, I'm the one who went crazy on Adrian's social media. It's all my fault. Every last bit of it. Happy now?"

Selina frowned, her grip tightening on my wrist. "That's your idea of an apology?"

She'd mistaken my sarcasm for submission.

I stepped back, suddenly curious how she'd react when she learned her parents had been in that accident for days.

I'd told her. Multiple times. She chose not to believe me.

Adrian couldn't quite suppress his smirk as he assumed the air of the man of the house. "Alright, alright, he's apologized. Let's eat. No more fighting."

He pulled several takeout containers from a black bag. "We didn't finish our meal, and I figured you must be starving after all these days, so I packed the leftovers for you."

The distinctive containers were from Riverside Pavilion—the kind of place where a single dish started at a thousand dollars. The receipt peeking out showed a total of sixty-eight thousand.

She could afford to take her secretary to a sixty-eight-thousand-dollar dinner, but she begrudged me a few thousand for a plane ticket home.

"It might be a little cold. Please don't mind—I'll heat it up for you."

Selina shot me a look of distaste. "He likes cold leftovers. Don't waste your time. If it weren't for him, I'd never have done something as tacky as taking a doggy bag."

She said doggy bag like she was really talking about me.

Adrian set the steaming containers in front of me. "Two minutes in the microwave. No trouble at all. Go on, eat."

The reheated food had turned yellow and mushy, like slop that had been sitting out for days. Even the rice showed traces of someone else's chopsticks, streaks of sauce where they'd stirred through it.

Adrian gave me an apologetic little wink. "I only had a few bites of this rice. Seemed a shame to waste it, so I brought it back for you. You don't mind, do you?"

My stomach heaved. Days without food meant nothing came up but bile.

Adrian looked wounded. "Are you disgusted by me? Do you have a problem with me?"

Ethan's lip curled. "Mom says Daddy used to dig through garbage cans. He's not picky. Daddy loves eating trash!"

Noah said nothing, but his eyes burned into me with silent fury.