My Cheating Wife Chose Her Secretary, So I Adopted Her Replacement

My wife’s male secretary begged me to let him be her husband for six months. He fell to his knees in front of me, crying his eyes out, claiming he was a "transmigrator" from another universe. He swore that if I didn't agree, an omnipotent System would wipe him out of existence. Naturally, I thought he was out of his damn mind. I turned him down flat. A few days later, he actually died. My wife, convinced I had somehow murdered him, took all my shares in the company and filed for divorce. My own daughter threw me out of the house and hired thugs to throw me into a psych ward, where I was tortured until my dying breath. Only as I died did I realize that my wife and daughter loved that secretary far more than they ever loved me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the very day the secretary dropped to his knees. "Mr. Hayes, please, I beg you! Just let me be Clara’s husband for six months, or I’ll literally die!" "Mr. Hayes, I know this sounds insane, but I swear on my life it’s the truth!" "If I can't be Clara’s legal husband for just six months, my heart will literally stop!" My wife Clara’s personal secretary, Julian Miller, was kneeling on the polished hardwood of my office floor, his forehead pressed flat against the ground. The desperate tone in his voice was so convincing that even with the memories of my previous life fresh in my mind, a shiver ran down my spine. Before I could say a word, my wife Clara rushed over. Her voice cracked with heartache. "Julian! Get up right now! What do you think you’re doing?!" She helped him to his feet, her manicured hands tenderly brushing the dust off his slacks. As she straightened his collar, she threw me a glare colder than an arctic winter. "Logan, are you deaf?! A human being is kneeling and begging for his life, and you’re just sitting there like a statue?!" "Where is your damn empathy? A man’s life is on the line!" "And wipe that smirk off your face. I know what you’re thinking—you think I’m cheating on you. Let me tell you right now, I would never stoop so low!" Her voice bit like frost. Looking at her, you would have thought I was a mortal enemy who had ruined her life for ten years, while that secretary was her true, devoted husband. I stared at Julian. Tears streamed down his cheeks, yet deep in his eyes, I caught that familiar glimmer of smug satisfaction. I balled my fists. Julian had been Clara’s classmate back in college. Word was they had dated during their master’s program. Whenever I brought it up in the past, Clara would shake her head and deny it vigorously. But deep down, I always knew she had a soft spot for him. As Hayes Enterprises grew into a massive corporation, Clara insisted on joining the company to "help out." I had wanted her to live a comfortable, stress-free life, but she threw a fit until I gave in. Less than a month in, she claimed she was overwhelmed with executive duties and needed a personal assistant. Enter Julian. Naturally, as her husband and the CEO, I ran a background check. Once I caught wind of their past rumors, I rejected his hire immediately. Clara lost her mind. She threw tantrums, screamed, begged, and finally held a letter opener to her own throat, threatening to bleed out on my carpet if I didn’t hire Julian as her secretary. Looking at the sharp blade pressed into her soft skin, I caved. How could I let the woman I loved die over a job? I gave my approval, and Clara swore she would keep things strictly professional. She forgot that promise the very next day. They were attached at the hip. If I so much as raised an eyebrow, she threatened suicide again. I was trapped, forced to watch their shameless intimacy in silence. In my previous life, today had played out the exact same way. Julian had dropped to his knees, begging for a chance to live. He claimed he was a transmigrator on a mission, and that becoming Clara’s husband on paper was the only way to satisfy his "System." If he failed, he would be terminated. He demanded that I vanish from Clara and our daughter's lives for six months. If I showed my face, he claimed he’d drop dead instantly. With his head bowed, he kept begging for mercy, but his eyes never stopped wandering over Clara’s body. "Mr. Hayes, please, have a heart!" "I swear to God, I have no improper feelings toward Mrs. Hayes! I just want to survive!" "Have mercy on me, sir!" Tears dropped onto the floor, one by one. But the corners of his mouth twitched with a subtle smirk. Before I could answer, the office door flew open. My eight-year-old daughter, Chloe, ran straight toward Julian. She turned her scowling little face toward me and shouted: "I don't want you to be my daddy! I want Uncle Julian to be my daddy!" "Hurry up and say yes! Do it now!" Julian forced a bitter, saintly smile and gently stroked Chloe’s cheek. "Chloe, sweetie, be good. Mr. Hayes is your real father." His eyes dimmed, his voice drowning in tragic despair. "A nobody like me... how could I ever deserve to be your daddy?" Clara’s heart broke into a million pieces. Right in front of me, she laced her fingers with Julian’s. "Don't say that," she said, her voice dripping with a tenderness she hadn't shown me in years. "You deserve it more than anyone. You'll make an amazing father to Chloe." Then, she whipped around, her tone snapping back to icy hostility. "Logan Hayes, speak! Are you going to agree, or am I going to—" "I agree." Clara froze. The words hung in the air, catching her completely off guard. "What did you just say?" I looked at the three of them—posing like the picture-perfect little family they so desperately wanted to be—and smiled. Slowly, enunciating every single syllable, I said: "I said... I. A. GREE."Hearing my clear response, Clara’s shock vanished, replaced by an unmistakable upward tug at the corners of her lips. She looked thrilled. The moment she caught me watching her, she quickly wiped the joy off her face, putting on her usual stern mask. After all, her excuse was still "saving Julian’s life." Young Chloe, however, didn't have her mother’s filter. A radiant smile burst across her face. She grabbed Julian’s hand, bouncing on her heels in pure ecstasy. Curiously, Julian—the man who had just begged on his knees for this exact outcome—looked stunned. There wasn't an ounce of joy in his eyes. Clara noticed his expression and frowned slightly in confusion. I, however, knew exactly why Julian looked horrified. Because he never actually wanted me to agree. After I was tortured to death in my past life, an entity—a rogue cosmic System—drifted toward my departing soul. It told me the truth: Julian was indeed a transmigrator. His mission wasn't to play happy family with Clara; his mission was to harvest emotional trauma. This world was a tragic romance simulation, and he was the tragic hero. And me? I was the heartless, jealous villain designed to keep the star-crossed lovers apart. Julian needed their romance to be as agonizing as possible. His objective was to make Clara and Chloe fall desperately in love with him, and then rip himself away from them through death. The more heartbreaking the tragedy, the higher his performance rating, and the greater his cosmic rewards. And what could possibly be more tragic than watching the love of your life die in your arms right when your forbidden love was finally sparked? Years of playing the sensitive, doting secretary had already maxed out Clara and Chloe’s affection meters. All he needed was for me to act like an arrogant, ruthless husband who kicked him out. Then, he would dramatically die "for" Clara. In my previous life, when I rejected his absurd demand, Julian had slunk away with a broken, martyred expression. Naturally, no sane man would believe in magical systems and life-or-death curses. That rejection turned me into public enemy number one. Clara and Chloe hated my guts. Julian played the self-sacrificing martyr to perfection. He tearfully told them that he wasn't blessed enough to be their family in this life, but promised to find them in the next. He patted Chloe's head and told her to listen to her cruel father. That broke Clara and Chloe completely. Chloe wrapped herself around his legs, screaming that Julian was her only real dad. Clara shoved me away, threw her arms around Julian, and kissed him right in front of me. "Nobody gets to tell us who we can love!" she had yelled, dragging him toward the door to run away together. It was all part of Julian's calculated script. He waited until Clara was filled with hope for their new life. The second their getaway car turned the corner, he commanded the System to stop his heart. As his vital signs plummeted, he used his "dying breath" to safely steer the car to the curb, whispering dramatically: "Live well for me, Clara... take care of Chloe... In the next life, we’ll be a family..." And then, he logged out like a hero, leaving behind a shattered, wailing mother and daughter on the side of the road. After his death, they blamed me for everything. Clara accused me of secretly poisoning him. Using my trust, she manipulated company documents, stripped me of my executive power, and served me divorce papers. Penniless, I was thrown into the streets. When Chloe tracked me down, I naively thought my daughter was coming to save me. Instead, she had hired hospital heavies to drag me into an asylum, paying them to torture me every single day as punishment for Julian’s death. The System took pity on my pathetic demise, letting my soul see the truth and throwing me back in time for a second chance. Now, Julian finally snapped out of his daze. Forcing an ecstatic grin, he scrambled to his feet. "Mr. Hayes! Thank you, thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!" "I swear I’ll take the best care of Clara and Chloe!" I smiled, holding up a hand. "Don't start thanking me just yet. I have one condition." The joy on Clara’s face soured into an annoyed scowl. "Why do you always have to complicate things? What condition? Just spit it out!" My smile widened. "The condition is... we get a divorce.""Have you lost your damn mind?!" Clara’s fury flared instantly. She stabbed an accusatory finger toward my face. "We’ve been married for ten years! Chloe is eight years old! And you’re throwing a divorce around like it’s a joke?!" I leaned back on the leather sofa, crossing my legs with a relaxed chuckle. "Didn't you just demand that Julian become your husband? I'm granting your wish." "If we don't get divorced, how can you two cheating scumbags be together out in the open?" Hearing the word 'scumbags,' Clara completely lost her composure. She stormed right up to me, screeching: "What did you just call me?! How dare you!" "I will say it one more time: Julian and I have a purely platonic connection! There is nothing dirty going on!" "And what do you mean 'out in the open'?! I told you, this is strictly a medical emergency to save his life!" Looking at her furious, righteous indignation, I almost burst out laughing. "Do you really want me to pull the private investigator's logs? Do you want to see the receipts for all the cozy little family trips you’ve taken with Julian and Chloe over the past three years?" "You two play house every single day while ignoring this home. Platonic? Do you even believe your own lies?" Clara looked like she was about to scratch my eyes out. But before her nails could reach me, Julian threw his arms around her, pulling her back into a protective embrace. Playing the peacemaker, he sighed softly. "Clara, please, calm down. Mr. Hayes is a man—his pride is wounded. It's completely understandable that he's lashing out." "Mr. Hayes, I swear I have no ulterior motives. I just want to survive. If my staying alive ruins your marriage, then... forget it. I’ll just accept my fate and die." The second she heard him talk about dying, Clara melted, clutching Julian tightly against her chest. "No! I will never let you die!" Over her shoulder, Julian flashed me a sickeningly arrogant smirk. Clara spat toward my feet, her voice trembling with hatred. "You cold-blooded, heartless monster." "You want a divorce? Fine! Let's sign the damn papers today!" With that, she yanked open her desk drawer, pulled out a small glass box, and hurled it at my chest. Inside was a dried, woven grass ring. It was the ring I had proposed to her with ten years ago. Back then, we were broke. I worked three jobs just to keep a roof over our heads, and I couldn't afford a real diamond. When I proposed, I wove a ring out of green grass, slipped it onto her finger, and promised her that one day, I would give her a flawless diamond and the wedding of her dreams. She had cried tears of joy, swearing she would cherish that grass ring forever. She even paid a professional to encase it in resin so it would never decay. Years later, I fulfilled my promise. I bought her a ten-million-dollar custom diamond ring and rented out a luxury estate for our wedding. Back then, she had whispered in my ear: *“As long as I keep this grass ring, I know you’ll never leave me.”* And I had replied: *“As long as you keep it, I am yours forever.”* That silly grass ring was the anchor of our vows. Throwing it at me was her way of declaring our love dead and buried. I once thought there was still a shred of hope for our marriage. Now, I saw the truth. She had stopped loving me a long time ago. Whatever lingering affection I had for her died the moment that glass box hit my chest. Meanwhile, she didn't take off the ten-million-dollar diamond ring sparkling on her finger. Of course she didn't. She only cared about the money. I picked up the resin grass ring, smiled faintly, and dropped it into the wastebasket beside the desk. "Deal. Let's get divorced."The divorce proceedings were finalized in record time. Clara had zero leverage to fight for my assets; without my financial backing, she couldn't even afford a high-powered attorney. I kicked her out of my penthouse. Left with nowhere to go, she moved back into our old, rundown apartment in the forgotten industrial district. I had bought that beat-up rental property years ago as a sentimental keepsake. Since we moved to the upscale suburbs, I was the only one who ever went back to check on it. Clara was far too busy hosting high-society brunches and spending money on Julian to care about nostalgia. During the divorce, she fought tooth and nail for Chloe’s custody. Fine by me—Chloe had already made it clear she despised me. To fund her lavish lifestyle, Clara began pawning off the designer bags and jewelry I had bought her over the years, including the ten-million-dollar engagement ring. Outside of running Hayes Enterprises, I spent every free evening driving down to the old industrial district. Not for Clara, and certainly not for Chloe. I wouldn't waste a second on a daughter who had gleefully signed off on my torture in an asylum. I was looking for someone else. In my past life, after Clara stripped me of my fortune, I was left homeless, wandering the dirty alleys of the industrial district. I had been broken beyond repair. I couldn't comprehend how the woman I cherished for a decade could treat me like garbage. Penniless and starving, I had spent two freezing winter nights huddled behind a dumpster, shivering near death. It was a scruffy, ten-year-old girl who saved my life. She saw me dying, dragged me into her tiny rented room, fed me warm soup, and handed me every single crumpled dollar bill she had so I could see a doctor. On the brink of death, that little girl showed me what unconditional kindness felt like. I stayed in her room for a few days. Her name was Jade. She was an orphan who had been adopted by a cruel couple. The moment they had a biological child of their own, they turned Jade into an unpaid servant, beating and abusing her daily. Jade had worked tirelessly, scoring the highest grades in her school, thinking she could earn their love. Instead, they pulled her out of school and tried to force her into an arranged marriage with a sleazy old landlord. She had run away and survived on her own ever since. Her resilience had rekindled my will to live. If a little girl could fight so hard to survive, how could a grown man like me give up? That night, I had promised her: *"From now on, I will protect you. We’ll be a real family."* She had cried and nodded. Yet the very next morning, Chloe’s hired thugs dragged me away to the asylum. I spent months trying to break out, desperate to keep my promise to Jade, until they finally beat the life out of me. Now that I was back, I swore I would never let Jade suffer again. I would give her the world. The only problem was, I didn't know her exact address—only that she was somewhere in this neighborhood. The industrial district wasn't huge. While searching for Jade, I frequently crossed paths with Clara, Julian, and Chloe. Every time we met, Julian would smirk with arrogant pity. "Stop coming around, Mr. Hayes. Clara loves me now. Move on." "Who knows? Maybe after I'm gone, you'll get a second chance." Then came the day Julian proposed to Clara. He did it in the very same downtown café where I had confessed my feelings to Clara a decade ago. And by sheer coincidence, I was sitting right across the street. As the crowd inside cheered for the "happy couple," Clara spotted me through the glass window. Beaming with triumph, she and Julian walked out arm-in-arm, heading straight for me. Clara opened her mouth, ready to deliver some smug, condescending lecture, but Chloe interrupted her. Chloe’s eyes locked onto the girl standing next to me. Her brow furrowed in anger. Even at eight years old, years of my spoiled pampering had made her possessive and entitled. Even though she hated me, she still viewed me as her personal property. She pointed a finger at the girl beside me and shrieked: "Who is she?! Why is she standing next to you?!" Her scream drew the attention of everyone on the sidewalk. Which was exactly what I wanted. I gently pulled the shy, nervous girl closer to me. Ignoring the smudges of dirt on her cheek, I wrapped an arm around her small shoulders. "Everyone, let me introduce you." "This is my daughter, and the sole heir to Hayes Enterprises—Jade Hayes."