The Assistant’s Child and My Wife’s Lie

The white skirt fluttered in the air. They must have been truly happy then.

Was it a month ago? Two? Or even longer?

But Kate had never smiled like that with me.

Even on vacations, she was always glued to her phone, answering emails, arranging meetings—half-present at best.

“But, Mike…”

Andrew looked at me with wide, guilty eyes, as if he were the victim.

Kate quickly stepped between us and tugged me closer to him.

“Mike, tell Andrew he’s not a third party. That he didn’t ruin our marriage. Tell him you’re willing to treat him like family.”

Her urgency was almost laughable.

I scoffed.

“Kate, you want me to treat the homewrecker like family? What is this—some fantasy of yours?”

I turned to Andrew, my voice cold and clear.

“Stop pretending. You’re not innocent—you’re calculated. A social climber who wants a reputation. You think having a baby with her will give you status. You want me out so you can marry into the Gruman Family, right?”

His face turned pale, then flushed red. His lips trembled as tears brimmed in his eyes, though none fell.

“You… how can you say that to me?”

“How? Because it’s the truth. But if I’m wrong, prove it. Sign this.”

I pulled out a document and tossed it at him.

“After the child is born, go abroad. Never contact Kate again. We’ll cover the expenses and child support. Just disappear.”

Andrew stared at the paper, his chest heaving as his breath grew shallow.

“Kate…. I’ll leave. I’ll go now. I… I can’t do this…”

Then his eyes rolled back and he collapsed into her arms.

Panic swept over Kate’s face as she cradled him, slapping his cheek.

“Andrew! Wake up! I’m taking you to the hospital—now!”

As she brushed past me, she stopped. Then—crack—a stinging slap landed across my face.

“Mike, I’ve clearly been too kind to you. You’ve forgotten your place.”

Her voice shook with fury.

“Andrew has cancer and all you can do is attacking him. He’s kind and sensitive—he’s always blaming himself, always trying to make peace with you! And you repay him like this?!”

She turned to the servants.

“Lock him in the basement. No one opens the door unless I say so.”

Then, carrying Andrew in her arms like a wounded hero, she walked away.

As they left, he glanced over his shoulder at me—eyes filled with scorn and disdain.

I struggled, but the guards overpowered me, dragging me down to the basement and tying me to a chair. I screamed, but one of them stuffed a filthy rag into my mouth.

A sour, rotting stench filled my nose—I gagged, vomiting until I could barely breathe. Only muffled cries escaped after that.

The basement was pitch-black.

I thrashed against the restraints until my strength gave out.

Hunger gnawed at me at first, but after a while, all that remained was nausea and a stabbing pain in my gut.

Time passed—minutes? Hours? Days? I no longer knew. I slipped in and out of consciousness, my limbs numb, like they belonged to someone else.

Eventually, the door creaked open.

Kate appeared, supporting Andrew like he was some fragile prince. They stood silhouetted in the light at the top of the stairs.

“Mike,” she called gently, “have you thought it through? It’s been two days. You must be starving. If you just apologize to Andrew, I’ll let you out.”

I forced what little strength I had left into my voice.

“You bastard…” I croaked. “What did I do wrong? Was it not cheering when you found a mistress? Not welcoming him into my home with flowers?”

But before I could say more, the world tilted. Darkness surged.

I fainted.

In a haze, I felt warm arms wrap around me.

“Why are you so stubborn?” a voice murmured beside my ear. “How can you live with Andrew like this? That temper of yours—it needs softening…”

When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room.

My wrist was bandaged tightly, thick layers covering fresh stitches.

I tried to move.

A nurse walked in and stopped me gently.

“Don’t move. You just had surgery on your wrist.”