Chapter 1
After twelve years of marriage, my millionaire husband fell for the new receptionist at his company. Nearing forty, she wasn’t nearly as attractive as I was, nor did she have my figure, yet in just six months, she had become his emotional anchor. Calvin looked at me, exhaustion etched into every line of his face, and said, 'If we divorce, you can have the house and the car. Amaia, just let me go.' I looked down, my voice steady, 'Okay.' Then, I marked a date on the calendar. The countdown began: 30 days until our divorce.
Just 40 minutes after Calvin confessed his affair, I handed him the divorce papers. By our agreement, the house, the car, and custody of Noah would be mine. He’d give me a lump sum of $3 million for settlement and child support. After that, Noah and I would be out of his life. Calvin was mid-conference call when I walked in. He glanced at the 'Divorce Agreement,' his expression flickering briefly before nodding in acknowledgment. I left without another word.
To save us both the hassle, I packed everything of his—three suitcases, thorough to the last detail, even the old photos from the attic. Then, I spotted our wedding picture tucked in the corner. In it, Calvin looked dashing, and I was beaming, our arms wrapped around each other in the sunlight. Back then, he’d whisper, 'Honey, I love you so much. I’m the luckiest man alive to have you.'
Calvin and I met in college. He was a broke student in scuffed sneakers, but I fell for him instantly. He was calm, kind, and ridiculously handsome, with a quiet confidence I adored. After graduation, marriage felt inevitable. He started a company with some friends, and when I got pregnant, I became a full-time homemaker, pouring everything into Calvin and our family.
As his business grew, so did his schedule. He was constantly swamped with work and social obligations. In the chaos, I threw myself into fitness, makeup, and fashion. Despite his busy life, Calvin always made time for Noah and even helped with cooking. He handled the in-laws beautifully. To everyone else, we were the perfect couple, the perfect family.
But somewhere along the way, things shifted. Calvin started staying late for 'meetings,' sometimes not coming home at all. Friends joked that I should keep an eye on him, and though I laughed it off, unease gnawed at me. I’d brought him dinner a few times during those late nights. Everything seemed normal—a group of people working, with *her* sitting quietly at the reception desk.
Her name was Catalina. In her forties, she wasn’t tall or striking, just plain-looking with short hair. But she had this gentle way of speaking, always greeting me with a soft smile. Over the years, I’d imagined this moment might come. I’d pictured a glamorous secretary, a bubbly college intern, or a high-powered businesswoman. Never the receptionist.
I’d heard her story—she’d been through a messy divorce after her husband cheated. This was her first job since then, and she cherished it. She’d come in early, memorizing everyone’s quirks, even baking treats for the office. Some coworkers even coordinated with her for lunch deliveries.
When I learned about her past, I’d even told Calvin to cut her some slack. He’d shrugged it off, saying, 'The office isn’t a place for personal feelings. I’ve already told her to keep it professional.' I’d teased him about being a cold-hearted boss back then. Looking back, maybe he felt guilty, making her stay late to prepare meals.
As for why Calvin chose today to drop the bomb, it was because of the chicken noodle soup I’d made him that morning. He stared at it, sighed, and pushed it aside. For a long time, he said nothing. Then, out of nowhere, he looked at me, his eyes heavy, and asked if we could divorce. He admitted to the affair, saying it had been going on for six months, sneaking away during those late nights to be with her.
My heart felt like it was being shredded, but I kept my cool. I had to know who. When he said Catalina’s name, I almost didn’t believe it. A wave of numbness washed over me, cold and unrelenting.