My Husband's Secretary Called Me a Mistress

Chapter 2

I thought I was saved. For a moment, I let out a breath of relief, believing it was over.

But Emily merely chuckled coldly and opened the door as if nothing had happened.

“This woman tried to seduce Mr. Johnson,” she said, her voice laced with venom. “I’m just teaching her a lesson.”

The secretaries standing at the door exchanged smirks, their eyes scanning me with disgust.

“Mr. Johnson is just too irresistible. These desperate women can’t help themselves,” one secretary sneered.

Another chimed in, her tone syrupy sweet but dripping with false sincerity. “Don’t worry, Emily. You’ve been with Mr. Johnson for five years. He only has eyes for you.”

Emily smirked, a cold, satisfied grin stretching across her face. “Obviously.”

Her gaze slid down to me, crumpled on the floor, my body a tangled mess of humiliation. She leaned in, her words sharp as daggers. “Some women really don’t know when they’ve crossed the line, do they?”

My hands shook as I reached for my phone, desperate to call my husband, to make it stop.

But Emily’s eyes narrowed, zeroing in on my phone like a predator on prey.

In a flash, she snatched it from my hand.

Her gaze turned venomous as she studied the phone, then curled into a sneer. “How pathetic. You dare flaunt matching phone cases with Mr. Johnson?”

Without warning, she hurled the phone to the floor, shattering it into jagged pieces.

“You filthy woman,” Emily hissed.

Like a rabid animal, she yanked a fistful of my hair, slamming her palm across my face, over and over again, each slap sharper than the last.

“I was this close to letting you go,” she spat through gritted teeth, “but now? You’re getting exactly what you deserve. Someone like you needs to be taught a lesson.”

She threw me down like I was nothing more than trash.

“Ladies,” Emily mocked, her tone dripping with malice, “this woman tried to seduce Mr. Johnson. How about we strip her?”

The other secretaries eagerly nodded, eyes glittering with cruelty.

I scrambled, barely able to lift myself off the floor, desperate to escape. But a searing pain shot through my hand as Emily's heel crushed it.

I screamed, the pain unbearable, but no one moved to help. The others just held me down, their fingers digging into my skin like iron shackles.

Emily crouched down, her sickening grin spreading wider. “You’ve got a pretty face,” she purred, eyes shining with dark amusement. “But don’t worry, I won’t ruin it.”

She pulled a pair of scissors from her bag, their sharp edges gleaming under the harsh lights. “Once I get you stripped, I’ll post pictures online. You’re going to be the whole world’s joke.”

“If your face gets scratched, though,” she added with a cruel laugh, “well, no one will recognize you then. And that would be a shame.”

I trembled uncontrollably, instinctively curling around my stomach to protect the baby. But I couldn’t move fast enough.

Emily’s scissors sliced through my skirt, the fabric ripping with each cold snip.

I didn’t dare move or scream. My terror rooted in the fear that even the slightest twitch could harm my child.

Every second dragged on, stretching the agony into eternity.

Soon, my dress lay in tatters, my skin exposed, vulnerable under their cold eyes.

“Trash,” Emily sneered, scanning me with a disgusted smile. “No wonder you thought you could seduce Mr. Johnson. Guess you’ve got some assets after all.”

I didn’t know when it happened, but a small crowd had gathered by the door, watching, some coldly, others with discomfort, but none spoke out.

“Emily, enough,” one secretary finally spoke, voice quivering with reluctance. “If anything happens, how are you going to explain this to Mr. Johnson?”

Emily didn’t even look at her, flicking away the concern like a fly. She poked my forehead with her long, sharp nails. “A maid trying to seduce Mr. Johnson? As his secretary, it’s my job to handle trash like you.”

The protestor faltered, her voice dying in her throat under Emily’s unyielding gaze. The room fell silent.

“Are you really going to side with a home-wrecker over Mr. Johnson’s favorite?” Emily hissed, her voice low and dangerous.

The others shrank back, their courage evaporating like mist under Emily’s wrath.

And then, one secretary, sharp-eyed, pointed at my belly. “Wait… this woman’s pregnant!”

Emily’s eyes narrowed to slits, and she quickly zeroed in on my stomach, her expression turning deadly.

“Heh.” Emily’s laugh was low and bitter, filled with malice. “All my precautions… and yet, here comes a bed-climbing maid, thinking she can carry Mr. Johnson’s child.”

“Dare to bear his baby?” she whispered, her voice as cold as steel. “Let’s see if you live long enough to do it.”

She grabbed my hair again, her grip punishing, but this time, instead of slapping me, she slammed my head against the wall.

“Die!” she shrieked, her fury exploding. “Any woman who dares to compete with me for Mr. Johnson must die.”

Exhausted, her rage spent, she flung me to the floor like a discarded doll.

I could barely breathe, my body wracked with pain, but the agony in my abdomen felt like it would tear me apart.

I instinctively curled up, but it didn’t stop the waves of torment.

My vision blurred, the world spinning as blood started to trickle down my face, pooling on the cold floor beneath me.

In the last, fleeting moment before everything went dark, I screamed, my voice raw and broken.

“I’m Andrew Johnson’s wife!”