My Husband Got His Secretary Pregnant

All I received was an inconspicuous bracelet core, while the real bracelet adorned Hazel’s wrist. What I had was a counterfeit—indistinguishable from the original but ultimately meaningless. And yet, I was forced to smile, endure the celebration banquet Julian arranged in my honor, and attend charity dinners and media interviews.

How absurd it all was.

Julian thought he had hidden the truth flawlessly. But Hazel had already revealed everything to me a month ago, hoping to push me out of my place. Back then, I was blissfully unaware, clinging to hope after undergoing my third artificial insemination.

I glanced at my bruised arms and belly, marked by countless injections and the painful aftermath of ovulation induction and surgery. The sight of the needle marks and discoloration reminded me of all I had endured.

Why?

Why had I subjected myself to so much pain? Why had I swallowed every grievance, held back every tear, and remained silent in my discomfort?

The answer was simple: Julian. His facade had been perfect.

In public, he played the devoted husband, loving me as if I were his entire world. But in private, he shared that same affection—and more—with another woman. Hazel. The woman carrying his child.

The revelation crushed me. Just as I finally achieved the joy I’d waited eight long years for, I was dealt a devastating blow.

I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, forcing myself to suppress the heartbreak. And in that moment, a decision crystallized within me—one so shocking that even I couldn’t believe it.

This child cannot stay.

I will not give birth to a child for Julian. He is unworthy of being a father, and I refuse to allow myself to feel joy on his behalf.

He doesn’t deserve it.

And neither do I.

As soon as I made that decision, a sharp pain suddenly shot through my lower abdomen, taking me by surprise. I wasn’t sure if the child could sense my emotions, but it felt as if he, too, was grieving for me.

I'm so sorry, my baby.

Mommy can’t keep you.

Tears blurred my vision as I held my phone, trembling with emotions while I made an appointment with the obstetrics and gynecology department. That was when Julian entered.

He was unusually careful, immediately noticing that something was wrong. His gaze softened when he saw the tears in my eyes.

"Audrey, why are you crying? Are you feeling unwell?"

His voice, full of false concern, made my heart sink.

"I... I got too caught up in everything. I made a scene, and now you can’t get the rest you need. It’s my fault. I didn’t think it through."

He cupped my face gently, his fingertips brushing away the tears from the corners of my eyes before he planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Audrey, thank you for everything. You've suffered so much these last ten months, but the days ahead will be sweet. If we have a boy, we’ll protect you together. If it’s a girl, I’ll protect both of you."

I couldn’t hold back a bitter laugh. Leaning against his chest, I felt the warmth of his body—but all I could sense was the hypocrisy.

I was about to speak, to finally confront him, when his phone rang.

He pulled away from me, glancing at the screen before his expression faltered. He quickly hung up. But the phone continued to ring, and the unease on his face grew.

"Answer it. It might be something important," I said, pretending not to notice.

Julian walked away to answer the call, but the delicate voice of Hazel came through clearly from the other side of the room.

"Julian, can you come over? I suddenly feel so uneasy... I'm not feeling well..."

Julian’s face tightened, and he glanced back at me, his unease visible. He hung up hurriedly, as though desperate to prevent me from hearing.

He returned to me with an awkward smile, grasping my hand, his excuses already on his lips.

"Audrey, there’s an issue at the banquet. I need to go take care of it. You rest here, okay?"

"Go on," I replied, my voice flat, my heart completely hollow.

I had no more strength to confront him. The words I had prepared vanished as I realized how futile they would be.