Chantelle’s POV

I kept my face blank as I casually dropped the journal into the fireplace. But my voice came out hoarse, betraying me.

“Just burning something.”

Lachlan frowned, clearly unsettled. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Kirsten tugged at his sleeve.

After a moment, he finally spoke, his tone stiff.

“The twins will be staying here for a while. We’ll let them use the nursery we set up.”

My body went still, only my fingernails moving, digging into my palm.

“That nursery was meant for our child.”

His expression didn’t change. “They’re my children too.”

A bitter smile tugged at my lips at that announcement. I could only rest a hand over my belly, a habit I hadn’t quite shaken.

Seeing I didn’t reply, he softened his tone like he was trying to be kind.

“They can be your children too, you know.”

I looked him in the eye. “They’ll never be mine.”

And with that, I turned and headed upstairs, ignoring the fake whine of Kirsten’s voice drifting behind me.

Back in my room, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Every notification was from her.

[That necklace he gave you after your miscarriage? Just a freebie I didn’t want.]

[Every time he told you he was on a business trip, he was actually with me. You didn’t know? He’s already introduced me to his friends, business partners, even clients. In their eyes, I’m his wife. You? You’re just the secretary he married in secret!]

One photo after another followed—her with Lachlan.

The most recent one was from last night.

While I was trapped in a dusty storage room, struggling to breathe through a cloud of allergens…

He was with her. In bed.

Time and again, at my worst moments, he had been with her.

The realization hit hard, but the pain didn’t linger.

It faded fast, swallowed by numbness.

By the time Lachlan returned, it was already midnight.

He smelled faintly of jasmine. Red marks were still fresh on his neck.

When he saw me sitting in silence, he pulled a crooked smile.

“Hey, I know what happened today was a bit much. But think of this as me atoning on your behalf. Look, Kirsten has already agreed to forgive you—just apologize tomorrow, and it’ll all be over.”

I let out a soundless laugh.

He hadn’t even asked what really happened.

Didn’t need to, I guess—he’d already made up his mind.

‘So this is how he sees me now—a malicious woman through and through.’

But I’d stand my ground. “I’m not apologizing for something I didn’t do.”

His jaw tightened, but before he could shoot back anything, his phone lit up.

Through the glare of the screen, I saw a photo—her in a sheer, lacy nightgown, barely covering anything.

Something flickered in his eyes—lust. And just like that, he shut the phone and moved straight for the door.

“Stop making this harder than it needs to be. Think of your mom’s medical bills. Just apologize and it all goes away.”

He didn’t wait for a response. The door slammed behind him.

Ten minutes later, I got a video from Kirsten.

In it, Lachlan’s eyes were filled with hunger as he ran his hands over her body.

I turned off my phone and shut my eyes tight.

The next morning, just as I came downstairs, Lachlan grabbed my arm.

“Like we talked about—just apologize, and it’s over.”

I couldn’t shake him off. He was forceful enough to drag me in front of Kirsten.

He pressed a bowl of steaming soup into my hands, his voice soft but edged with warning.

“Think of your mom. Say sorry and give this to Kirsten, and I’ll keep covering your mom’s medical bills.”

The heat from the bowl stung my palms, but it was nothing compared to the cold settling in my chest.

Swallowing the last of my pride, I stepped forward and held the bowl out to her—but no apology left my lips.

Kirsten smiled, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. “I’ll make sure you’re out of the picture for good,” I heard her mumble.

The next second, she suddenly knocked the bowl from my hands, sending a scalding soup splash across my front. Before I could react, she let out a sharp scream—as if she’d been the one burned.

Lachlan turned on me instantly.

“Damn it, Chantelle!” he shouted, shoving me to the ground. “I told you to apologize—and now you’re attacking her again?!”

The pain hit fast, stealing my breath. I could only curl in on myself, trembling.

Kirsten clung to his sleeve, tears flowing freely.

“Forget it, Locke… I don’t need her apology anymore. I’ll take the twins and leave. I’m pregnant now. I… I don’t feel safe.”

His expression shifted in an instant—fear, anger, protectiveness—all for her.

After making sure she was settled, he came back.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t hesitate.

He just yanked me up by the hair and dragged me into the kitchen.

Then he forced my hands into a bowl of boiling soup!

The agony stole my voice—I couldn’t even scream.

He looked at me—eyes full of cold judgment, with the faintest trace of pity that meant nothing at all.

Only when I was on the verge of passing out did he finally let go.

“From now on,” he warned, “whatever you do to Kirsten, I’ll make sure you pay it tenfold.”

He then kicked me aside like trash and rushed Kirsten—perfectly unharmed—to the hospital.

I made my way there alone, half-stumbling, half-limping, looking more like a madwoman than a patient.

Once they finished treating my burns, I didn’t go home.

I went straight to the office, resignation papers in my hand.

When I saw Lachlan, I tried to hand them over. He didn’t even look at me; he just stepped around me like I wasn’t there.

An assistant glanced over awkwardly.

“Secretary Segerblom… President Gurfinchel said if you have something to say, please wait until after the meeting.”

I numbly nodded and stood off to the side.

Midway through the meeting, the projector flickered—and suddenly, photos of me and Lachlan appeared. Some of them… far too intimate.

Under everyone’s stares, I shook with humiliation, rushing to shut it off.

“So it’s true… the secretary really is sleeping with the CEO.”

“Didn’t see that coming…”

Lachlan turned toward me, frowning—like I was the one responsible.

The slideshow kept going behind me, each photo more damning than the last.

Suddenly, the door burst open—Kirsten walked in, holding the twins by the hand.

The boy and the girl broke into smiles the moment they saw the familiar face of Lochlan in the room.

They ran straight to him.

“Daddy!”

Chantelle’s POV

Gasps echoed through the room as every head turned, eyes wide in disbelief.

“If she’s the real wife, then Secretary Segerblom must be—”

“I used to think she was just sharp at work. Turns out she’s just as skilled in bed.”

The air thickened with sleazy whispers. One man openly leered, while another reached toward me from behind.

“She’s got a body like that and still acts innocent? I’d pay ten grand for a night with her.”

The murmurs swirled around me like a storm, each one more venomous than the last. I stood there, frozen—humiliated, powerless.

Lachlan’s brows drew together. For a brief second, something flickered in his eyes—anger, maybe even pity. He looked like he was about to say something.

But before he could, Kirsten slipped her arm around his and whispered, “Locke, the kids are here.” Her eyes were soft, pleading.

Lachlan hesitated. Then his expression hardened, turning cold and unreadable.

“Secretary Segerblom,” he said, voice cold, “please have some self-respect. Stop spreading fake photos. I’m loyal to my wife—only my wife.”

And just like that, he took Kirsten’s hand and walked out, their two children trailing behind. He didn’t spare me a single glance.

It felt like lightning had struck me straight through the chest. I couldn’t move.

I had always known Lachlan didn’t love me—but I never imagined he’d be the one to strip away even the last shred of my dignity.

Just before leaving, Kirsten cast a brief glance at one of the women across the room.

Minutes later, I was dragged into the break room by a group of women.

They were familiar faces—women I’d once helped, even covered for. Now they looked at me with thinly veiled guilt and disgust.

“Sorry, Secretary Segerblom. Orders from the president’s wife,” the lead woman said coldly.

Then her hand swung through the air and slapped me across the face.

The others followed. Slap after slap, like falling rain.

By the end, they weren’t just obeying orders—they were enjoying it. I could see it in their eyes.

Only after what felt like the 990th slap did they finally stop.

The lead woman looked at me with a strange mix of pity and contempt.

“If you’re gonna blame someone, blame yourself. You ruined a family.”

I couldn’t even argue. Every ounce of strength drained from my body. My knees buckled, my vision blurred, and I collapsed.

When I opened my eyes again, it was night.

No one had taken me to the hospital. I’d been locked in the break room, left to freeze on the cold floor.

I was starving, bruised, in unbearable pain.

It wasn’t until the cleaners arrived the next morning that someone finally opened the door.

Under the judgmental stares of my colleagues, I stumbled out and made my way to the nearest hospital.

After getting patched up, my phone buzzed. I received another message from Kirsten.

[Last night must’ve felt familiar, right? Well, today, I’ve got a special surprise just for you.]

A second message came in—a photo.

It took me a moment to realize what I was looking at.

‘Mom’s hospital room!’

Not long after, another notification popped up—a payment alert from the hospital.

‘Lachlan… He actually cut off payments for Mom’s medical expenses?!’

Ignoring the pain in every step, I rushed to the hospital, using the last of my strength.

When I burst into the room, I saw my mother slowly open her eyes.

Relief flooded me—but before I could take another step, Kirsten appeared at the bedside.

She looked smug and victorious.

“Old hag,” she sneered, “look at the daughter you raised—so cheap she ended up as my husband’s mistress. I’ve got two kids with him already, and now she’s the one being torn to pieces. Honestly, if I were you, I’d die of shame. After all, your husband had a mistress too, didn’t he? I’m sure of all people, you understand how that feels.”

I rushed forward and slapped the phone from her hand, trembling with rage. But it was too late.

Mom turned to look at me, her eyes filled with nothing but heartbreak and disappointment.

The next thing I knew, she was clutching her chest, gasping for air. Within seconds, she collapsed back against the pillow.

“Mom!” I screamed, seeing her breathing grew faint.