My husband’s cock was buried deep inside his secretary.
Carl Fort, the man who swore to love me in sickness and in health, gripped Bella’s hips with brutal force.
"Fuck, Carl," Bella gasped, her back arching over the leather office chair. "Right there."
"Keep your voice down," Carl ordered.
His tone remained entirely professional, completely at odds with the violent way his hips slammed forward.
"Why?" Bella mocked, wrapping her bare legs around his waist. "Are you worried your dying wife might hear us? Fuck my pussy harder."
"Spread your legs wider," Carl commanded.
Bella obeyed, hooking her ankles behind his back. "Yes. Rip me apart. Show me how much you hate her."
Carl didn't answer with words. He reached down, spreading her wet pussy lips wide before driving his thick cock all the way to her cervix. I watched his fingers dig into the soft flesh of her breasts, pinching her nipples hard enough to leave red marks. Every thrust was a calculated strike, pounding into her with a ruthless rhythm.
"Fuck!" Bella shrieked softly. "Yes, right there. Ram it deep, Carl."
"You like that?" he grunted, his hips moving in a rapid blur. "You like my fucking cock?"
"I love it," she moaned, her hands tangling in his dark hair. "Tell me I'm better than Penny. Tell me my cunt feels better than hers."
"Shut the fuck up, Bella," Carl snapped. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat. "Just take my fucking cock and stay quiet."
"You love this," Bella purred, reaching down to stroke her own clit where their bodies met. She rubbed two fingers over her wet flesh, amplifying her own pleasure. "You love fucking me while she rots in that massive house."
I drifted lower, my translucent feet hovering inches above the carpet. A strange numbness washed over me. I expected rage. I expected devastation. Instead, I just felt hollow.
"When Penny dies, you'll marry me, won't you?" Bella asked.
Her voice dropped the taunting edge, shifting into genuine hunger.
Carl froze. The rhythmic slapping of flesh halted. He stayed buried deep inside her, his chest heaving.
"Answer me, Carl," Bella whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Say you'll make me your wife."
He stared down at her flushed face. For five agonizing seconds, the silence in the office threatened to shatter the glass windows.
He didn't say no. He didn't defend his dying wife.
Instead, Carl clenched his jaw, grabbed her thighs, and shoved them wider. He pulled his cock almost completely out before slamming it back in, burying himself to the hilt. He resumed thrusting, faster this time, his grunts filling the air as he rushed toward his climax.
"Fuck," Carl ground out, his eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck, Bella."
"Fill me," Bella urged, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Give it to me, Carl. Pump it all inside my pussy."
He groaned loudly, his body going rigid as he came inside her. He held himself flush against her, riding out the orgasm with his face buried in the crook of her neck.
I turned my head away. Even as a ghost, some sights still churned my nonexistent stomach.
Carl stepped back, pulling out of her. He didn't offer her a towel. He simply reached for his trousers, zipping them up with practiced efficiency.
"Get dressed," he instructed, adjusting his tie in the reflection of the window. "The board meeting is in twenty minutes."
Bella pouted, sliding off the leather chair. She picked up her lace panties from the floor. "You're so romantic."
Carl ignored her. He walked over to his desk, picked up his phone, and tapped the screen. He hit the speaker button.
The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.
"Fort residence, Maria speaking."
"Maria," Carl said, leaning his knuckles against the desk. "How are things at home?"
"Mr. Fort," the nanny replied, her voice laced with a subtle tremor. "The missus has been in her room all day and hasn't come out."
Carl frowned. A single, deep crease appeared between his brows. He stared at the blinking speaker icon.
"Did she eat lunch?" he asked.
"No, sir. I knocked on the door three times. She didn't answer."
"Did you try the master key?" Carl demanded.
"The door is bolted from the inside, sir. I didn't want to cause a scene if she was just sleeping."
"Got it," Carl replied.
"Should I call a doctor, sir?" Maria pressed. "She seemed very weak yesterday. Coughing up blood again."
"Leave her alone. She's just seeking attention," Carl said, his voice flat. "I'll deal with her when I get home tonight."
"But Mr. Fort—"
"I said, I'll handle it, Maria," Carl interrupted sharply. "Just prepare dinner for eight o'clock."
He tapped the screen, ending the call. Not a single ounce of panic. No urgency. Just a mild annoyance that his wife was inconveniencing the household staff.
Bella stood fully clothed now, adjusting the collar of her silk blouse. She smoothed her pencil skirt over her hips and picked up her tablet.
"Is she throwing another tantrum?" Bella asked, a smirk playing on her lips.
"It's none of your concern," Carl replied, grabbing his suit jacket. "Send the quarterly reports to my inbox."
"Right away, Mr. Fort."
Bella shifted instantly back into the perfect, professional secretary. She turned on her heel and walked out of the office.
I followed her. I didn't mean to. It was as if an invisible thread dragged my spirit behind her, pulling me through the heavy oak door and into the brightly lit reception area.
Bella sat at her pristine desk. She set her tablet down, picked up her personal phone, and unlocked the screen.
I peered over her shoulder, reading the glowing text bubbles on her screen.
"I'll be marrying into the Fort family soon," Bella typed to a contact named Chloe.
"Did he propose?" Chloe replied instantly.
"Not exactly. But I think that sickly woman is going to die any minute. She hasn't left her room all day. The nanny just called him." Bella texted back, her thumbs flying across the glass.
"Finally! What did he say?"
"He didn't even care. He told the nanny to leave her alone. He was literally inside me when she brought up Penny dying."
"Damn. He really hates her."
"He only married her for the merger. Now that he controls her father's shares, she's useless. I just need to pick out my wedding dress. I'm thinking Vera Wang."
I stared at the glowing screen. The words blurred together, not from tears, but from the sheer absurdity of it all. Three years of marriage. Three years of enduring Carl's coldness, his late nights, his empty promises. All of it culminating in his secretary picking out a wedding dress while my body lay cold in our marital bed.
I looked down at my hands. They were pale, shimmering around the edges, entirely devoid of substance.
"Congratulations," I whispered into the empty air, a bitter smile twisting my lips.
Bella didn't flinch. She just kept scrolling through bridal boutiques on her screen.
"I'm already dead."
Silence answered me. The office buzzed with the low hum of the air conditioner. Phones rang in the distance. Life went on, completely undisturbed by my absence. No one heard me.
