My Husband's Affair, My Anniversary Gift

Lily sighed as she finished another late night at the office-covering for Jenny, who had called in "sick" yet again. But when she finally dragged herself home and scrolled through social media, her stomach twisted. There was Jenny, cocktail in hand, laughing with a group of friends at some trendy bar.

Of course. The realization stung. Jenny had never been her friend. Behind that sweet smile, she had been seething with envy over Lily's work ethic-and worse, spreading vicious rumors that Lily was sleeping with their boss, David.

None of them knew the truth: she wasn't his mistress. She was his wife.

Lily was used to the whispers, the sideways glances. She had learned to swallow the bitterness. But as she got ready for bed, her phone buzzed with a breaking news alert-a gossip headline splashed across the screen:

"Billionaire CEO David Hardison Reunites with Ex-Girlfriend Marina at Exclusive Gala-Are Sparks Still There?"

Her breath hitched. A photo beneath the caption showed David, devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo, standing close to the stunning socialite. Too close.

Unlike the office rumors, this wasn't just petty gossip. This was David. Her husband. The man who, after five years of marriage, still looked at her with polite detachment rather than love. Except on the bed.

A sob tore from her throat as the dam inside her broke. She crumpled onto the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her face. How could it still hurt this much?

Lily had loved David Hardison from the moment she first saw him.

Nine years ago, fresh out of university, she had joined Hardison Corp with starry-eyed ambition-only to have her breath stolen the instant David strode past her desk. Sharp suit. Colder eyes. A presence that commanded every room, every glance, every foolish heart.

Including hers.

But he'd been Marina's.

Everyone knew he had been Marina's.

Still, Lily stayed and became his secretary. She learned the rhythm of his moods, the way his jaw tightened before he fired someone, the rare, fleeting smirk when a deal went his way.

And five years ago, when Marina vanished without a trace-leaving David shattered-Lily was the one who picked up the pieces.

Literally.

That night at the bar, David had been a wreck. Whiskey-soaked and hollow-eyed, he gripped her wrist like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Her heart shattered. But she knew her place. She was just his secretary.

She drove him home, tending to him with quiet efficiency, careful not to overstep. But as she turned to fetch a fresh towel, he pinned her against the wall and kissed her with a feverish, bruising intensity-as if she were someone else.

Lily tried to resist. But the raw agony in his eyes broke her. And so, she let him take her-rough, reckless.

And when she woke the next morning-naked, aching, his scent still on her skin-he stood by the window, smoke curling from his cigarette as he tossed a contract onto the rumpled sheets.

"Read