My Husband has another Wife？!

Lillian’s POV

I step out of the hotel, and the brisk winter breeze instantly brushes against my face.  Zurich's streets are lively, snowflakes fall gently around me.

I'm here to surprise Micheal. The elementary school where I work organized a trip to Switzerland, and by chance, I had booked the same hotel as my husband.

This year, Micheal has invested in a new resort project in the city, and he's here on business. I didn't tell him I'd be visiting. I'm hoping to bring a bit of home to his busy day.

I make my way to a small bakery on the corner. The smell of fresh pastries fills the air as I step inside. The shopkeeper, a woman with kind eyes, greets me with a smile.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like a dozen ginger cookies," I say, tapping my finger against the jar.

"Are these for someone special?" she asks.

"They are," I reply, with a smile. "My husband absolutely adores them. I can already picture his face lighting up when he sees them. Plus, they're the only thing that can distract him from his work for five minutes!"

"That's wonderful," she says, as she wraps the cookies. "It's always nice to see someone put so much thought into a gift."

"He's been working so hard lately. I wanted to bring a little joy to his day. These cookies are his favorite treat. And honestly, it's my secret weapon to keep him from turning into a work zombie."

"It's clear you have a lot of love for him," the shopkeeper notes, handing me the package. "And quite the strategy for keeping him human!"

"I do, he's my everything."

After paying, I leave the bakery, cookies in hand, and walk towards Micheal's company headquarters

I make my way to the reception desk, where a young woman with striking features and impeccably styled hair, looks up at me.

"Good afternoon," I say with a smile. "I'm here to see Michael Warrington."

"Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist glances at me with indifference.

"No, I don't have an appointment," I begin, feeling a bit embarrassed for not having thought this through. "But I'm his wife. Could you please let him know I'm here?"

I'm an elementary school teacher, a job I love.

My life is simple and filled with the energy of children. Michael on the other hand is a successful businessman.

I never post anything about my private life on social media.

Michael respects my wishes to stay away from his business events, understanding that I prefer the quiet simplicity of my teaching life over the glamorous chaos of corporate affairs.

This is why it's not surprising that the receptionist doesn't recognize me.

"His wife? The president is with his wife in his office right now and I'm sure he doesn't want to be disturbed. How dare you, a bold mistress, come here and claim such a thing?"

The receptionist raises a brow, giving me a look that's both skeptical and mocking.

The words don't register at first. I blink, staring at her, confused.

"I'm sorry, but there must be a mistake,I am his wife."

"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but Mr. Warrington's wife is in his office right now."

"There has to be some kind of misunderstanding. I'm his wife. We've been married for two years."

A chill runs down my spine, but I try to reason with her.

"Two years? Interesting, considering everyone here knows his wife—Catherine. I'm sorry, but I don't have time for this game." She raises her brows in mock surprise.

"Catherine?" I say, voice trembling but resolute, "Who is Catherine? Just tell Michael Lillian is here."

"Do you know how often we get women like you, desperate to catch a wealthy man's attention? It's embarrassing, really." She sighs loudly, clearly bored.

Anger flares up inside me.

"I don't know what you think you know, but I'm telling the truth. I am Michael's wife."

"Then where's your proof? I even don't see a ring."

She gestures to my hand, and I realize I had left my ring behind for safekeeping at the school trip's start. Her smirk grows.

"I didn't think I'd need proof of my own marriage. Just tell him Lillian is here."

"Lady, I don't have time for your fairy tales. Mr. Warrington is with his real wife upstairs. Now, leave before you embarrass yourself further."

Her voice grows louder, drawing the attention from nearby staff.

The nearby whispers become louder. People are watching, judging. My cheeks burn, but I refuse to back down.

"If you'd just call him down, you'll see I'm not lying."

"Listen, lady. I don't have time for your delusions. Michael Warrington is married to Catherine—everyone here knows that. Now, please leave." The receptionist's eyes narrow and she sneers.

My legs feel weak, as if the ground beneath me is crumbling.

“I don’t understand, Who is the fuck Catherine? There must be some mistake!”

“Lady, I’ve told you. Now, get out before I call security.” The receptionist rolls her eyes, her patience clearly wearing thin.

“I need to hear this from Michael himself!”

“Like I said, he’s busy with his real wife. You’ve got some nerve, causing a scene here.”

I feel a wave of heat rise to my face as people begin to stare, their eyes filled with confusion and disbelief. Whispers start, and I feel their judgment.

“Fine,” I say, my voice firm. “Let’s make a bet. I will prove that I am Michael’s wife. If I’m wrong, I’ll leave and never come back. But if I’m right, you’ll apologize and let me see him.”

“Alright, you’ve got a deal. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I will prove it!”