My Husband's Secretary Called Me a Mistress

Chapter 1

I’d been nauseous for weeks, my appetite disappearing without a trace. Something wasn’t right, so I went to the doctor. When the nurse handed me the ultrasound results, my world shifted. “You’re about four months pregnant,” she said, her smile almost too kind.

I froze, the words crashing over me. Tears welled up, blurring my vision. After years of trying, endless hope and disappointment, it was finally happening. My husband and I, childhood sweethearts who’d married right after college, had been desperate for this moment. “It’ll happen when the time’s right,” he always said, his voice full of faith.

Now, I knew the time had come.

Overcome with excitement, I rushed home, prepared a homemade meal, and decided to surprise my husband at work with the good news.

Carrying the meal, I walked confidently into Johnson Corporation, practically floating.

Just as I reached my husband’s office, a striking woman stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“What do you want?” Her tone was frosty, eyes narrowing as she looked me over.

I held up the meal box, my voice steady. “I’m here to deliver lunch to Andrew Johnson.”

I kept my voice polite and neutral, avoiding any direct mention of him as my husband in public.

She let out a condescending sigh, then smirked. “Oh, a maid. I’m Emily Davis, Mr. Johnson’s chief secretary.” Her voice was dripping with superiority. “Give me the lunch, and you can leave.”

I shook my head. “I’m not a maid. I’d like to give it to Mr. Johnson personally. Please let me through.”

Before I could finish, her face twisted with fury. She grabbed the meal box from my hands, yanking it out of my grip.

“Who do you think you are?” she spat. “A maid trying to seduce Mr. Johnson? Dressed like that?”

Her lips curled into a malicious smile. “I’m going to teach you some manners today.”

Before I could react, she dragged me into a nearby conference room and slammed the door shut behind us.

The next thing I knew, a hard slap across my face sent me stumbling backward. My cheek exploded in pain as I crashed to the floor. Dazed, I barely had time to process before another blow landed, this time to my head.

My heart pounded. My baby!

Instinctively, I curled up protectively, clutching my stomach.

“Let’s see what you’re feeding Mr. Johnson,” Emily sneered, her voice cold.

With a cruel smile, she ripped open the lunch box and poured its contents over my head.

The soup, still steaming hot, splashed onto my hair, burning my scalp as it ran down my face. I gasped, the pain searing, but I couldn’t move—couldn’t risk hurting my baby.

“Oh, and there’s braised chicken too.” Emily’s voice was thick with mockery. “Just like chicken, you are cheap and stupid!”

She grabbed my chin, forcing my head back, her fingers digging into my skin.

“If you want to act like a chicken, then eat this chicken!”

Before I could even try to stop her, the braised chicken, drenched in fiery sauce, was shoved into my face. The sting of the spices burned my eyes and throat, and I cried out, coughing violently.

Emily shook her hands with a look of disgust. “Ugh, what a mess. Almost ruined my new manicure,” she muttered, brushing her fingers off as if I were nothing more than an inconvenience. “Do you honestly believe that garbage about winning a man’s heart through his stomach?”

Her gaze turned to me, filled with disdain. “Someone like you doesn’t belong with Mr. Johnson.”

I tried to speak, tried to explain, but the heat from the chili was choking me. The spice was lodged in my throat, making it impossible to breathe, let alone talk.

Just then, there was a knock at the conference room door.

“Emily, what is going on in there?”