Thirteen Years of Marriage, Yet You Still Cheated

The receptionist had changed several times over the years.

The young woman behind the counter didn't recognize her and asked politely, "Do you have an appointment, ma'am?"

Coleen answered evenly, "I'm Bruce's wife."

The receptionist froze, her eyes widening in surprise before she quickly called out, "Secretary Olivar!"

Emily appeared soon after, her makeup light and polished, her expression tinged with mild surprise.

"Miss Coleen?" she greeted her with feigned warmth. "Mr. Sandoval hasn't arrived yet. Why don't you come up with me first?"

Coleen followed as Emily walked ahead confidently, weaving through the halls of the company.

Every step felt foreign, like she was visiting someone else's world—even though this was the empire she had helped build, brick by brick, beside Bruce.

Back then, she had been his everything—his receptionist, accountant, and logistics manager. She had worked late nights, taken risks, sacrificed sleep and dreams—all believing she'd work alongside him for a lifetime.

Instead, she'd been turned into the idle, ornamental Mrs. Sandoval.

When they reached his office, Coleen half expected a sneer or a warning. But Emily merely smiled and quietly shut the door behind them.

Coleen stood still, her gaze sweeping across the room.

Everywhere she looked, traces of another woman lingered—sanitary pads tucked discreetly into a drawer, a pink scarf draped over a chair, and a woman's coat hanging by the wall.

Every detail screamed shared life.

Finally, her gaze stopped at the desk—where a framed photograph of a young boy sat proudly in the center.

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the photo album beside it.

Page after page revealed a life of the boy's: his first time turning over, his first crawl, his first steps, his first smile.

Then came photos of Bruce, Emily, and the boy together—smiling like a perfect little family.

Emily approached with a tray of tea, her tone deceptively calm.

"Three years ago, after the auction, Bruce and I slept together for the first time. Do you know how it happened?"

Coleen turned around but stayed silent.

"He'd been drugged that night," Emily said with a soft laugh. "He thought I was you. Afterward, he told me to keep it a secret, then transferred me to work directly under him."

Up close, their faces did share faint similarities. But Coleen only let out a small, bitter laugh.

"Maybe he used me as your substitute," Emily went on, "or maybe he just needed someone to vent his frustrations. Either way... I got pregnant."

Her tone grew almost triumphant. "He was thrilled, you know. He held me all night, told me he loved me over and over. Then he gave me property, a car..."

She looked Coleen in the eyes, her tone laced with pride.

"Even if you don't want to admit it, Coleen, you—the so-called first love everyone in Chicago's elite circles envies—have been defeated by me, a substitute with nothing but a vocational diploma."

Before Emily could blink, Coleen snatched the teacup and flung its contents straight at her.

However, to her surprise, Emily screamed, slapped herself hard, and deliberately fell to the floor just as the office door burst open.

Bruce stepped in, smiling, holding a luxury handbag.

The instant he saw the scene, every trace of tenderness vanished from his face. "Coleen! What are you doing?!"

Emily leaned weakly into his arms and whispered tearfully, "Mr. Sandoval, I'm fine... but Madam seems very angry."

Coleen let out a bitter laugh—mocking him, mocking herself, mocking the thirteen years of blindness she had called love.

She raised the photo album in her hand.

"Bruce, why don't you explain this photo first?" she said coldly. "It's been sitting here in your company all these years. What's wrong? Are you afraid I might harm your son?"

Bruce frowned deeply. "Coleen, you have to understand me. I'm a man—I need children."

His next words struck her like a blade. "You lost your ability to have children. You can't take away my right to be a father—"

"Then how did I lose that ability, Bruce?!" Coleen's voice broke into fury.

His face darkened.

She took a trembling step closer.

"Don't you remember? You don't, do you? When we went to that project meeting together—we both drank until our stomachs bled. I lived like that for three years!"

Her voice broke. "When the doctor said I could never conceive again, you said you'd get a vasectomy—that we'd be child-free, together. I even stopped you, afraid you'd sneak out to do it behind my back."

She laughed bitterly. "Now that I think about it... How ironic."

Bruce tightened his jaw, his expression softening slightly. "I know I've wronged you. Whatever compensation you want, I'll agree. Just... don't take it out on the child."

Coleen's lips curved into a faint, broken smile—she wasn't sure if it was out of pain or numbness.

"Compensation?" she repeated softly.

Then she pulled out a document from her bag—the divorce agreement.

"As compensation, Bruce," she said, voice steady, "sign the divorce papers."