She Cheated With Her Secretary, I Married Her Rival

The day before my father’s funeral, the butler quietly approached with a troubled face and handed me an email accusing my wife of cheating.

"Young master, Miss Silva has give birth and the child is calling another man daddy."

Dione Silva offered no explanation. Her voice remained calm, almost indifferent.

"You should focus on your father’s funeral first."

The next day, she didn’t show up to pay her respects. Instead, she called.

"Rupert is with me at the postpartum care center, so I won’t be attending the funeral."

I stayed silent. She paused, then spoke sweetly, as if coaxing me after a minor argument.

"Don’t worry, the child was just an accident. Rupert doesn’t want to ruin our marriage, he just wants me to keep the baby for him."

"But I’m still the child’s mother. I can’t just give birth and not raise it. I’ll stay at his place to take care of the baby on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and I’ll come home on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays."

I clenched my fist and let out a bitter laugh.

"No need. We never even registered the marriage. I hope you two live happily ever after."

Dione sneered and replied, "Atticus Hollis, your father just died. Stop making a scene with me."

I ended the call without a word and turned to face Dione’s greatest rival.

"Marry me. I’ll help you destroy the Silva family. Deal?"

——

At the funeral, a flicker of surprise passed through Rhea Langston’s eyes. Her cold expression softened, and her cheeks flushed as she stammered.

"Our Langston family only allows one marriage in a lifetime. If you marry me, I’ll belong to you forever."

I thought she would refuse. I turned to leave, disheartened.

But suddenly, she grabbed my hand tightly. Her frosty expression shifted, replaced by a look of desperate resolve.

"Atticus, think carefully. This marriage, once it starts, there’s no turning back."

I gave a faint smile and nodded without hesitation.

"Alright. No divorce."

Rhea was originally the woman my father had chosen for me. Her character was flawless, her family background respectable, and her temperament calm and dignified.

If I hadn’t fallen for Dione, I would’ve married her without hesitation.

The funeral drained every ounce of energy I had. For over two exhausting weeks, Rhea handled the condolences with grace and tireless effort.

In all that time, Dione never called. Not even once.

Each time I opened social media, I was greeted by photos of her and Rupert Bradford, smiling like a picture-perfect family, hands forming a heart around their newborn.

With a caption, [My dearest, most beloved family.]

I sneered, the bitterness clawing its way through my chest.

Just then, her call came through. Her voice was lazy as if she had just woken from a nap.

"The funeral’s done, right? Want to come visit the baby at the postpartum center?"

I stared at my tired reflection in the rearview mirror, dark circles shadowing my eyes, and replied in a steady voice, "Dione, we’ve already ended things."

There was a brief pause on the other end before she gave a soft hum as if replying to herself.

"That’s fine. Rupert’s been feeling a little down lately, he’d probably be upset if he saw you."

My heart, already numb, sank even deeper.

My eyes turned red as I let out a bitter, mocking laugh.

"Dione, I said we’ve broken up. Are you deaf?"

She paused for a second, then let out a light, teasing giggle.

"Atticus, you chased me for five years. Everyone knows how hopelessly in love you are. Without me, who in high society would ever consider marrying you?"

"I told you, the baby was just an accident. Why are you still clinging to it?"

I said nothing.

On the other end, I heard something crash to the ground.

Dione let out a cold sneer. "Fine. Break up then. But on the day of the arranged marriage, if no one shows up. I’ll be waiting for you to crawl back and beg me."

The call ended with a sharp click.

When I got home, I found the door code had been changed.

I tried calling Dione, but her phone was unreachable. With nowhere else to go, I ended up crashing at a random hotel for the night.

By morning, my Instagram feed was flooded with a recommended livestream broadcast straight from the postpartum center.

Rupert was smiling brightly at the camera, chatting with the viewers naturally.

Beside him, Dione sat quietly, her eyes glued to him with affection.