After Divorce, My Secretary Wife Becomes Rival Boss

Charlotte’s POV

Monday mornings always feel the same, dreadful.

For six years, I’ve followed the same routine: waking up before dawn, dressing in muted elegance, and arriving at Watson Holdings as both Drake Watson’s secretary and wife. The title wife was supposed to mean something, but in reality, it was just a formality. It was an empty title given to a woman he never really noticed.

My eyes are set to meet the man who never treated me the way I had desperately hoped. He never fulfilled my dream of a complete and fulfilling marriage with him.

As my driver pulls up in front of the towering glass monolith, unease creeps up my spine. Something feels… off.

“The Watson Holdings Tower is coming up, ma’am,” my new driver said, cutting into my thoughts.

“Which entrance, ma’am?” the driver asks, eyeing me through the mirror.

“Take me to the regular staff entrance. East side,” I caught the driver's confused gaze in the rearview mirror.

“But…. are you Mrs. Watson? I was instructed to—”

“Please.” My voice is firm, final.

“The east entrance will be fine.”

The name stings. I used to wear it like armor, believing it held weight. Now, it’s just a reminder of my place—an afterthought in my own marriage.

Six years. Six years of being his wife in name but never in his heart. I stayed, hoping, waiting. On paper, we're married, but in reality, it's as if we're strangers. Though Drake never reciprocates my love, I chose to stay with him, trapped in a role that feels more like an outsider than a wife, because my heart can't bear leaving him. I kept hoping that someday he would see things differently.

If only I had listened to my parents when they warned me against marrying Drake. Blinded by love, I refused to see the truth; I wasn’t just his wife, I was his stepping stone. I handled major deals, covered his mistakes, and even turned down a promotion for his sake, all while believing I mattered to him.

But love made me a fool. Now, five years after losing my parents in a fatal accident, their warnings echo louder than ever.

“Mrs. Watson! Good morning!”

Familiar voices. Polite smiles. Respect woven into their words. If only they knew how little my title truly meant.

Andrew Preston, the head of product development, stood waiting near the entrance. His usual easygoing smile was strained at the edges, his eyes darting away from mine.

“It's great to see you, Andrew,” I nodded, continuing towards the entrance before noticing he had fallen into step beside me. “Something wrong?”

Andrew cleared his throat. “There has been a change to this morning schedule. Boss asked for you to handle the design review meeting because he won't be able to attend that.”

Spooked, I slowed my pace. “This is unusual. It shouldn't be my job. He never misses design reviews.”

"Yes, ma’am," Andrew winced at my words, as if they were the last thing he expected to hear from someone who is the boss's wife.

I tell myself he’s just busy, but deep down, the sting is familiar. His absence feels deliberate. I force myself to focus, pretending it doesn’t matter.

As he turned to leave, I asked, “Is he in his office?”

"Yes, but he's busy. He is attending to an unexpected visitor,"

A visitor?

At eight in the morning?

A cold weight settles in my stomach. I glance around, catching the way Andrew avoids my gaze. They know something I don’t.

I started to sense it—something felt off and before I fully realized it, my unease began growing stronger.

“Andrew,” I press, keeping my voice even. “Who is it?”

His eyes darted away. “I—I don’t know, ma’am.” He quickly reached out towards my bag to help me carry it. “The portfolio is ready in the conference room.”

Before I can ask more, heels click against the marble floor, each step slow and deliberate. A familiar chill creeps over my skin.

I know that sound.

That walk.

That presence.

Then I hear her voice—smooth, taunting, and sharp as broken glass.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my darling sister-in-law.”

My breath catches as Aria Watson, Drake’s younger sister, saunters toward me.

Poised. Vicious. A predator in designer heels.

She stops a few feet away, tilting her head like she’s admiring something amusing.

“Working hard, or hardly working?” she muses.

I school my expression, unwilling to take the bait. “Aria. What brings you to the office? Is Fashion Week cancelled?”

Aria laughed, her sound like breaking glass. "Oh, wait there bitch! I wouldn't miss this morning for anything. It's not every day you get to witness someone's entire world collapse, is it?"

I clenched my bag, heat rising to my face. Humiliation burned—public, cutting, unbearable. And Aria knew it.

Aria’s voice rang out, sharp and cutting, loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. "I don’t understand why you’ve refused to leave my brother after all these years! Six years, Charlotte! And not even a child to show for it. If you weren’t out to dig his billions, you wouldn’t have staged that night at the hotel—wouldn’t have claimed fate tied you together since high school. And yet, you still forced this marriage to happen."

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with contempt and hatred. “Must you, this orphan, be with him? Or is it just about the money?”

I’ve never understood what makes Aria think my marriage to her brother was effortless. I worked hard for it, starting as a regular employee and earning my place as his secretary. Within seven years, I’ve contributed significantly to Drake’s company, recruiting top professionals and driving its growth through my dedication and expertise. A year into my time there, I fell in love with him, and our relationship blossomed. Honestly, we faced intense resistance to our marriage before Mia left for abroad.

I forced myself to respond. "Aria, you're always causing trouble. I don’t have time for this—I have a meeting to prepare for."

"Do you?" Aria stepped closer again, cutting into my path. "I'm surprised my brother still lets you handle anything important. But I suppose old habits die hard." Her voice dropped to a stage whisper.

A strange hush falls over the room.

My heartbeat stutters.

A sick feeling coils in my stomach.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, voice steady despite the growing dread.

She steps closer, lowering her voice just enough for only me to hear.

“Speaking of old habits, did you know Mia’s back?”

Everything stops.

The air is sucked from the room. My pulse pounds in my ears.

Mia.

The name cracks through my mind like thunder.

"That's not possible," I managed, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

It can’t be.

"Oh, but it is." Aria's eyes gleamed with malicious delight.

Aria leans in, smiling like a cat that just cornered a mouse.

“Drake picked her up from the airport last night.”

My fingers curl into fists.

No.

No, this isn’t happening.

"I'm glad you won't ruin my brother. But if you value yourself, get ready to stay the hell out of Drake's life."

It felt like my heart was torn apart. Aria wasn’t just making a statement—she was delivering a threat. I’m exhausted from constantly clashing with her, but I feel powerless because Drake seems perfectly fine with it.

Her gaze bore into me, cold and merciless, as if I were something to be crushed beneath her heel. “You know, Drake and Mia seemed very... reacquainted when I saw them this morning."

It’s been six years since Mia walked away. Six years since she left him for a modeling contract job in Paris. Even in her absence, I lived in her shadow, a name I could never escape.

And now… she’s back?

"If you'll excuse me." I forced the words past numb lips, sidestepping Aria.

"And don't you want to hear the best part?" Aria called after me. "My brother looked happier with her in five minutes than he has in six years of marriage to you."

I can't wait to hear more.

I move.

I don’t even realize I’ve started walking until I’m already at the executive elevator, pressing the button repeatedly, my hands trembling.

The entire office watches as I step inside. No one dares to stop me.

The ride up is suffocatingly silent.

Please, God. Don’t let this be real.

The elevator doors slide open to the executive floor, Drake’s private kingdom. I barely register the polished decor, the pristine silence.

My feet carry me down the familiar hallway, past the empty desk where I still work despite being his wife.

Straight to the imposing double doors of his office.

I should knock.

I always knock.

Instead, I push the door open.

And there they are.

Drake.

And her.

Mia.

Close. Too close. Her delicate hand resting on his sleeve. His suit—the one I picked—now tainted with her touch.

I stood frozen, my breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a sob.

Drake didn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look guilty. He didn’t even acknowledge my presence.

But Mia did, and smiled.

“Charlotte, right?” she purrs, extending a manicured hand. “I’m Mia Bennett. Drake’s future wife.”

The words swirled in my mind like venom, poisoning every part of me. My heart pounded, but my body was frozen.

“You should leave,” Mia smirked, her voice smooth like silk but sharp like a blade. “Drake and I have so much to catch up on.”

I swallowed hard. The air felt too thick to breathe.

Drake doesn’t correct her.

Not a single denial.

I should leave.

I should turn around and walk away.

But I can’t.

After all, I was nothing. I was never his wife in his heart. I was just the woman who filled the empty space.

I staggered back, my vision blurring. And then, just like that, I was falling—falling into the abyss of a truth I had never wanted to face. A confirmation of what I’ve always feared.

I have been replaced.