The Scar He Gave Me

The Other Woman Under His Desk

Chapter 1

In the fifth year of my marriage, I found out my husband was sleeping with his secretary.

Not through a text message. Not through a rumor. Not even through some private investigator I'd hired out of suspicion.

I found out because the door to Ethan Hayes's office wasn't fully closed.

It was late afternoon. The kind of late afternoon where the sun hits the glass building at a sharp angle, flooding the hallway with orange light. I'd walked these halls a thousand times. I knew every creak in the floorboard outside his office, every flicker of the fluorescent light above the water cooler. This was my territory. I had helped build this company from a single rented desk.

And now, as I walked closer, a muffled moan slipped through the c***k.

I froze.

Not because I didn't recognize the sound. I did. That was the problem.

That sound was way too familiar.

My blood didn't just run cold. It turned to ice water in my veins, spreading from my chest down to my fingertips. The documents in my hand—quarterly reports, nothing urgent, just something I needed his signature on—suddenly felt like lead.

A second moan. Higher this time. Breathier.

*No.*

But my feet kept moving. One step. Two. My heels made soft clicks against the marble. I didn't breathe. I didn't blink.

Then I shoved the door open without hesitation.

The first thing I saw was a pair of legs under his desk.

Pink nail polish. Bright, bubblegum pink—the kind I'd never wear, the kind that screams *look at me*. Black heels tossed carelessly onto the floor, one on its side, the other kicked halfway across the rug. A lacy thong hanging off the edge of his trash can.

Behind the desk, Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair. His tie was loosened—the Hermès tie I'd given him for our third anniversary, the one with the tiny horseshoes. His throat bobbed as he caught his breath. Desire still lingered openly across his face, his lips parted, his pupils blown wide.

Until he saw me.

His expression froze. Not guilt. Not shame. Just the annoyance of being interrupted, like I'd walked in while he was watching something embarrassing on his phone.

"Chloe?"

His voice came out rough and startled, still thick from whatever he'd been doing.

"What are you doing here?"

The moment reality hit me, all the color drained from my face. I could feel it happening—the heat leaving my cheeks, my lips going numb, my fingers going white around the papers.

"I needed your signature on some documents." My voice sounded strange. Far away. Like someone else was speaking. "Your secretary wasn't at her desk, so I came in myself."

My gaze dropped beneath the desk.

A muffled whimper.

"Looks like I interrupted something."

Ethan straightened up, fixing his shirt with a few quick tugs. Forced composure. The kind of composure you use when you're trying to pretend nothing happened.

"It's not what you think."

*Not what I think.* I almost laughed. What did he think I thought? Was he giving her a performance review?

But the next second

The woman hiding under the desk suddenly lost her balance and fell out.

Madison Carter.

Ethan's new assistant. Hired two months ago. Blonde curls, dimples, fresh out of college. I'd welcomed her myself, shown her around the office, and told her to come to me if she ever needed anything.

And my cousin.

My mother's sister's daughter. The girl who used to follow me around at family gatherings, tugging my sleeve, asking me to braid her hair.

Her blonde curls were a mess. Two buttons on her blouse had popped open, exposing a lacy pink bra that matched her nail polish. Her black stockings were torn at the knee. Dark kiss marks—hickies, the kind that take days to fade—covered her neck like a necklace of bruises.

The second she saw me, she lowered her head nervously. Her hands flew to her chest, trying to button her blouse with shaking fingers. She looked like some frightened little deer.

"Chloe... I—I didn't mean to..."

"Hey, it's okay."

Ethan reacted instantly. He pulled off his suit jacket—*my* suit jacket, I'd picked the fabric myself—and wrapped it around her shoulders. His hand lingered on her arm, squeezing gently. Comforting her.

*Her.*

"You should go first. I'll handle this."

Madison nodded with teary eyes, clutching the jacket tightly before hurrying out of the office. She didn't look back. She didn't apologize. She just scurried away like a rat from a sinking ship.

The moment the door closed behind her, the room fell completely silent.

I stood there staring at Ethan. The man I'd married. The man I'd bled for. The man who once swore on his mother's grave that he'd never hurt me.

He looked like a stranger.

But Ethan looked almost unaffected. He leaned back in his chair, loosened his tie even further, and sighed like I'd caught him in something mildly inconvenient instead of destroying our marriage.

There was even a trace of impatience in his eyes.

"Well, since you already saw everything, I won't hide it anymore."

He stood up, walked to his minibar, and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

"But it's not as serious as you're making it."

I almost laughed. A strange, strangled sound escaped my throat.

Not serious?

"You cheated on me, Ethan."

"Oh, come on, Chloe." He walked toward me like *I* was the unreasonable one. Like *I* was the one overreacting. "Don't make this into some huge dramatic issue."

Dramatic.

I suddenly found the whole thing ridiculous. Seven years. Seven years of my life, and he was calling *me* dramatic.

"It was just for fun," he said lightly, swirling his whiskey. "Madison's young, sweet, and clingy. She reminds me of you when we first met."

My stomach twisted violently. Not from pain—from disgust.

"But she'll never affect your position." He continued calmly, like he was explaining something to a slow child. "You're still my wife. That'll never change."

As he spoke, he reached for my face.

I stepped back immediately in disgust.

A heavy floral perfume hit me instantly.

Gardenias.

Not my scent. I wore jasmine. Always jasmine.

Madison's.

I frowned instinctively. "You smell disgusting."

Ethan's expression darkened immediately. The patience drained from his face, replaced by something uglier.

"Enough, Chloe." His tone grew sharper with every word. "Can you stop acting like some crazy, jealous woman?"

He exhaled impatiently.

"What successful man doesn't have something on the side? At least I still come home to you."

I stared at him in disbelief. The whiskey in his hand. The hickies on his neck. The smell of another woman on his skin.

"Do you even hear yourself right now?"

"I never said I was leaving you." He frowned, like he was being perfectly reasonable. "You're still Mrs. Hayes. The women outside are just entertainment."

Something inside my chest felt like it was being ripped apart. Not torn—ripped, slowly, fiber by fiber.

Seven years.

An entire seven years.

And suddenly, I realized the man standing in front of me was no longer the Ethan I fell in love with.

He was someone else. Someone I didn't recognize. Someone who looked at me with cold indifference while reeking of my cousin's perfume.

I thought about the first time we met. The way he'd stepped between those drunk men outside the hotel and me. The way he'd looked at me like I was something precious.

That man was gone.

And this man—this stranger wearing Ethan's face—had just told me that sleeping with my cousin was "just for fun."

I slowly placed the documents onto his desk.

"Sign them."

Ethan didn't even glance at the papers. He trusted me too much for that. He simply picked up a pen and signed his name immediately.

Without realizing

Those weren't regular documents.

They were my resignation papers.

Tonight, I originally had something else I wanted to tell him.

My father was dying. The call had come at 3 AM. My mother's voice, cracked and raw: *Come home, Chloe. He doesn't have much time.*

I had planned to tell Ethan tonight. To ask him to come with me. To stand beside me one last time.

But now?

I wouldn't.

I wanted a divorce.

"Done." Ethan handed the documents back to me, his tone softening again. "Want to grab dinner tonight?"

"No." I took the papers calmly. "I have other things to do."

I turned to leave.

But then Ethan spoke again.

"Oh, right. One more thing."

I stopped walking.

He slid both hands into his pockets casually, like we were discussing tomorrow's weather.

"Madison's been upset lately about being the third party." He almost looked amused. "So I was thinking... we should get divorced for now."

Slowly, I turned around.

"What?"

"It's just temporary." He even smiled a little. "Once I'm done having fun, we can get remarried. Don't worry. The real Mrs. Hayes will always be you."

I clenched the papers in my hand so tightly they crumpled.

My heart felt like it had been torn open alive.

But a few seconds later

I suddenly smiled.

Softly. Quietly.

"Okay. Whatever you want, honey."

Ethan visibly relaxed. "I knew you'd understand."

I looked at him one final time. At the man I once loved enough to destroy myself for.

Then I walked out of the office without looking back.

What Ethan didn't know was—

In Chloe Carter's world, divorce only happened once.

There were no second chances.

And he had just signed away the only woman who would ever truly love him.