My Husband Chose His Secretary

The abrupt end to the phone call left me tossing and turning through the night. Sporting noticeable dark circles, I dragged myself into the office the next morning, still in a daze. Kamari approached me eagerly, buzzing with the latest office gossip.

"Something definitely went down between Travis and Skyler last night," she said, eyes wide with excitement.

I frowned slightly, uncertain if I wanted to dive into the details.

"This morning, Travis showed up looking like he slept in those clothes. Same suit from yesterday, all wrinkled up. He obviously didn’t go home," she continued, clearly proud of her observation skills.

I nodded, too tired to do much more than acknowledge her.

"And Skyler was running late today, too. She came in all aglow, which is so unlike her usual efficient self. It's like she's transformed overnight."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"She's more vibrant, more alluring. You'll have to see for yourself," Kamari replied, her words carefully chosen.

When I glanced up, I saw Skyler striding in wearing a sleek pencil skirt. I recognized it immediately—the very skirt I had my eye on while shopping with Travis. It hadn’t been available in my size, so we’d pre-ordered it to be delivered to Travis.

Looks like it arrived, but it landed on someone else’s doorstep.

Skyler, clearly in high spirits, offered to treat everyone to coffee, asking what we’d like to drink. Cheers erupted around the office, but I sat quietly in my corner, wrestling with a knot of emotions. I threw myself into work, hoping to distract myself from the churn, but it was in vain.

By lunchtime, I was still in a fog. As I picked at my takeout meal, Skyler waltzed by with a fancy lunch spread and walked into Travis’s office. She stayed there the entire afternoon, only emerging as the day wound down.

Kamari clicked her tongue in frustration. “The nerve of her! Skyler could have picked anyone, but she went for a married man. Little Jones, who sits closer to the executive office, said she practically jumped into Travis’s lap, as if the office were their private getaway.”

She sent me a photo that Little Jones had discreetly snapped—Skyler was indeed perched on Travis’s knee, feeding him in a way that left no room for speculation.

“I can't imagine how shattered Travis’s wife would be if she saw this,” Kamari sighed.

Davis, our manager, frowned from across the room. “It’s their business, not ours.”

Kamari, missing the nuance, chuckled, “You’re right. She sure plays the ‘mistress’ role well.”

Davis looked displeased, dropping a stack of reports onto Kamari’s desk. “If you’ve got so much time to chat, finish these before you leave.”

Kamari was startled. I messaged her quietly: “Davis and Skyler go way back; he's on her side. Best not to comment.”

Kamari replied with a crying emoji. I reassured her: “I’ll help you with those reports. Let’s finish quickly, and I’ll treat you to some pulled pork.”

She perked up at that.

That evening, after wrapping up our late work, we were poised to head out for pulled pork when Davis stopped us. “You’ve both worked hard. Let’s grab a bite together.”

He didn’t leave room for refusal, shepherding us to a nearby restaurant, followed by a detour to a karaoke bar. We weren’t thrilled, but as interns, we didn’t have the luxury to object.

In a dimly lit corner, we lost ourselves in a mobile game, barely noticing the room filling up. It wasn’t until I heard a familiar voice that I looked up to see Travis, surrounded by industry bigwigs, taking the spotlight.

They started discussing projects, and soon the conversation drifted into personal territory—stories of kids, spouses, and, inevitably, affairs followed.

“I saw Skyler post on Instagram about finding true love. What's the story? Did you and Skyler finally get together?” someone teased.

My ears perked up involuntarily.

Travis replied in a measured tone, “You don’t understand the situation. I had no choice. Skyler was insisting. If I didn’t agree, she’d leave. And she's crucial to the company—or, rather, crucial to me.”

“And Skyler’s okay with being the other woman? Watch out, Travis, this could end badly.”

“Yeah, remember the effort you put into marrying that young girl? We all saw it. Forget the affairs—if your wife finds out, it could get ugly.”

“Or maybe not. Skyler doesn’t mind, so why should she? That young wife of yours has lived in comfort for years. Going back to a modest life might be unbearable for her. But she enjoys the benefits of being Mrs. Armstrong, so she won’t stir the pot.”

The consensus was that as long as Travis kept Skyler content, his wife would remain oblivious, and they toasted his double achievement.

Kamari scrunched her face in distaste and whispered, “Ugh,” in my ear.

“But you know,” she added, “as much as Travis is being a sleaze, they have a point. That girl he married isn’t even done with school, right? No family, no connections. Causing trouble wouldn’t help her. What do you think?”

I agreed, “She won’t stir up trouble. People prefer to keep things smooth these days.”

Even when it comes to divorce.

Just then, Travis set his drink down and spoke, “True, Chelsea’s got nothing but her youth. Compared to her, Skyler’s more refined. But who knows how long Skyler’s patience will last? I regret getting married—it would’ve been cheaper to keep a young girl on the side. A divorce would cost too much now.”

Ah, so he was counting the losses.

Of course. Legally, we’re married, Travis and I. A divorce would mean splitting his post-marriage assets.

If that’s what Travis wants, fine. I can walk away with nothing. But he’ll have to bear the cost of my departure.