Chapter 1

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."