
My Husband Cheated on Me With Secretary, Then Karma Crushed Him Back
Shirley's world collapses when she witnesses her husband, Brody, openly flaunting his affair with his secretary, Lila, right in front of their colleagues at work. As if that humiliation wasn’t enough, Brody coldly threatens her with divorce and promises to take everything they built together. Heartbroken, homeless, and crushed, Shirley finds herself at a crossroads but slowly begins to rediscover her fighting spirit, especially when her new, dashing boss seems determined to punish her for a mistake she made in the past.
Shirley's heart sinks as she watches Brody with Lila, his hands in places no one should ever see. Her hands tremble, causing her to drop the spoons from the plate she was holding. But Brody and Lila remain oblivious to her presence, caught in their own world.
Brody smirks up at Lila, who sits perched on his desk, her legs exposed, as he slides his hand up her skirt. Lila flips her hair dramatically, caressing his cheek, while Brody presses a kiss to her wrist, never taking his eyes off her. Shirley stands frozen, her slice of cake—intended to share with Brody for lunch—forgotten in her trembling hands.
Shirley's heart pounds with fury and disbelief, and soon, it transforms into a fiery determination. Realizing that her entire office is watching her, she gathers all the strength she has left and strides toward them, her voice cutting through the tense silence.
"Brody, what’s going on here?" she demands, her voice sharp and no longer meek.
Brody turns with a look of feigned innocence, his annoyance barely hidden. "What's the problem, Shirley? We’re just talking business," he says nonchalantly.
Shirley's gaze flits between Brody and Lila, the latter smug and enjoying every second of the scene. Shirley’s defiance rises, and she’s no longer willing to be the victim.
"This is your idea of business?" she retorts, her voice rising with a mix of disbelief and anger. "You’re practically groping her in front of everyone?"
"Shirley, don't make a scene," Brody hisses, his face reddening as he scans the room full of onlookers.
"Oh, I’m not the one making a scene," Shirley shoots back, standing her ground. "We need to discuss this. Now. In private!"
Brody's expression darkens with rage as he stands, facing her.
"You don’t get to tell me what to do, Shirley. Not here. Not ever," he spits. "A woman like you should be grateful I’m even coming home, but this? This disrespect is the last straw. I’m filing for divorce today. I’ll take the house and leave you with nothing."
Shirley’s eyes narrow, refusing to let him manipulate her any further. "You can’t take the house, Brody. It’s mine—it was my parents’," she responds firmly, holding onto the one legal leverage she has.
Brody’s cruel smile sends a shiver through her. "Did you forget, Shirley? I’m a lawyer. I’ll take the house, and I’ll move Lila in before you can even blink," he sneers. Leaning in close, he whispers, "And we’ll make sure to celebrate all over every surface in every room."
His words, dripping with venom, leave Shirley stunned and humiliated. She fights back tears as Brody takes off his wedding ring and forces it into the slice of cake she’d been holding—symbolically ending their marriage in the most callous way imaginable.
"Keep that. Maybe you can pawn it for enough to buy yourself a doghouse," he mocks before grabbing Lila and pulling her toward the bathroom, their indifference to her pain clear.
The murmurs of the office grow louder, but all Shirley can feel is the crushing weight of betrayal. The man she had loved for years had just discarded their marriage with ruthless ease.
That night, as she lies in a cheap hotel room, the walls feel like they’re closing in on her. The room is a disarray of empty food wrappers and the faint glow of the TV, offering little comfort to her broken soul. She lets the tears flow, the flood of sadness and confusion overwhelming her as she replays the day’s events over and over.
The man she had given everything to—her love, her time, her loyalty—had turned into a stranger, and in that moment, Shirley questions everything about herself. Had she really let herself go? Was she responsible for Brody's affair?
Suddenly, anger surges through her, and she grabs the nearest pillow, punching it in a desperate attempt to release her frustration. Her sobs are raw and desperate, but the pounding at the door interrupts her.
She stumbles to answer it, her mind still in chaos, only to find a man standing in the hallway. Concern flickers in his eyes, but quickly morphs into judgment when he sees her tear-streaked face.
"I thought I heard someone crying for help," he says hesitantly.
Shirley, already at her breaking point, snaps, "Well, you heard wrong. Unless you can help me keep my house from the husband who's divorcing me, leave me alone."
The man looks her over, his eyes cold. "I can’t help with that, but now I see why he’s divorcing you," he states flatly, turning away.
The insult stings, but Shirley's anger flares. She follows him to his room, blocking his door and demanding he face her.
"You don’t get to judge me," she says fiercely. "Not when you look like you haven’t brushed your hair in weeks."
The man pauses, frustration and a hint of regret flickering across his face. Shirley stands her ground, unwilling to let anyone, especially not a stranger, belittle her.
As he tries to explain that he wasn’t judging her appearance, Shirley lets her anger spill out. "Just because I’ve gained weight and don’t wear tight clothes every day doesn’t mean I deserve to be treated like trash!"
For a moment, the man seems to understand, his expression softening. "You’re right," he says quietly. "You don’t deserve that."
But before Shirley can respond, he abruptly steps back, shutting the door in her face, leaving her in stunned silence.
"I was still yelling at you!" she shouts at the door, frustration building. Her foot throbs with pain from her earlier tantrum, and she stumbles back to her room, defeated.
Despite the humiliation and the storm of emotions, she’s determined. She won’t let Brody or this stranger break her spirit. She will fight, even if it means she has to start from scratch.
The next morning, Shirley drags herself into the office, limping on her injured foot, only to be greeted by the unexpected: her new boss, Mr. Williams. The same man from the hotel, who she had just insulted, is now in charge of her career.
He stands before her, as dashing and professional as ever, and Shirley's mind races in disbelief. She tries to apologize for the previous night, but Mr. Williams cuts her off, his stern tone replacing any understanding he may have shown.
"I expect better from my employees, Shirley," he says coldly, before moving on to the case file she needs to retrieve.
Shirley’s morning only gets worse as she scrambles to find the correct file, causing a mess in the process. Mr. Williams reappears, unimpressed, criticizing her disorganization. At that moment, Brody and Lila walk by, laughing at her misfortune, and Shirley feels a surge of determination.
She won’t be the punchline of their jokes anymore.
With renewed resolve, Shirley decides to resign. She barges into Mr. Williams’s office, her resignation letter in hand. But he refuses to sign it, tossing it aside dismissively. Shirley, though hurt and exhausted, refuses to back down. She writes another resignation letter, determined to make him accept it.
Tears fall as Shirley finally lets out the pain she's been holding in. "Why do men like you think you can control my life?" she cries, her voice cracking.
In a surprising twist, Mr. Williams softens. He doesn’t want to let her go—he admires her spirit. But Shirley, shaken and confused, can’t accept this. The man who witnessed her lowest moment now claims to like her?
"I don't even know you!" she protests. "And you’ve been so rude!"
Mr. Williams, now speaking as Nathan, tries to explain, but Shirley remains skeptical. She’s been burned too many times to believe in a man’s kindness.
As she storms out, the fight isn't over. Shirley is done being controlled, done letting others dictate her worth. She’ll rebuild, piece by piece, and maybe—just maybe—she’ll prove to herself that she can rise above it all.
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