His Secretary Is Sick, I'm Clean

The new secretary at the office has the same name as me, but she’s ten years younger.

During the company’s annual health check, the medical staff mixed up our ages and gave me her HIV-positive test results by mistake.

When I found out it was a false alarm, I was relieved.

I was still trying to figure out how to gently break the truth to the secretary when I accidentally caught her hooking up with my husband in his office.

I stood outside Connor Blackwell’s office, the test report in my hand practically crumpling under my grip.

A woman’s flirty voice drifted through the door.

“Connor, be gentle. I’m carrying your baby, remember?”

Connor held her close, his voice dripping with affection as he chuckled softly.

“Don’t worry. The doctor said it’s fine to have sex during pregnancy.”

“But…”

“Relax. Once the baby’s born, I’m making you my wife.”

My brain exploded.

The woman kept up her act, her voice sickeningly sweet.

“But what about Iris? She’s already 35. Poor thing.”

My name is Iris Bennett. The company’s new secretary? Her name is Iris Bennett too.

She’s ten years younger than me, fresh out of college, all dewy-eyed and perky.

Connor let out a cold snort.

“She can’t even give me a kid. If she wasn’t somewhat useful to the company all these years, I would’ve divorced her ages ago.”

I leaned against the hallway wall, my entire body going cold.

We’ve been married for ten years. I never got pregnant because Connor has low sperm count.

To protect his fragile ego, I covered for him. I told everyone it was my problem, that we could try IVF.

To have a baby, I endured round after round of fertility shots, suffering through every needle.

Turns out, in his mind, I was just a hen that couldn’t lay eggs.

The secretary giggled happily.

“Connor, I saw this pregnancy mattress I really want. It’s like fifty thousand dollars…”

“Buy it.”

Connor agreed without hesitation.

“I’ll transfer you a hundred grand. Use the rest for supplements. You’re carrying my child—I won’t let you suffer.”

Just last night, I’d transferred a hundred thousand dollars to Connor.

He said his mom had a heart attack and needed bypass surgery. All his money was tied up in projects, and he couldn’t liquidate fast enough.

That hundred thousand was my money.

My mom gave it to me before she died. She said it was a woman’s security, not to be touched unless absolutely necessary.

I transferred it anyway.

I thought it was saving a life.

Turns out, it went to his mistress.

I turned and left, my steps unsteady, my mind a chaotic mess.

I thought back to three days ago, when the company organized its annual wellness screening.

I arrived late. By the time I got there, all the test packets had been handed out.

The nurse rummaged around for a while before finding mine.

“Iris Bennett, right?”

I glanced at it, ready to shove the report into my bag, when I noticed a line of small print at the bottom:

[HIV preliminary screening: Positive. Recommend follow-up testing immediately.]

I froze.

My first thought was: impossible.

Connor and I have been married ten years. Our sex life has been practically nonexistent.

In the past six months, he barely touched me.

And I’ve never been with anyone else.

How could I have this disease?

Then a nurse rushed over, flustered, saying they’d mixed up the reports.

That’s when I realized—they’d accidentally swapped mine with another Iris in the company.

She was the new secretary. Only 25 years old.

I was still trying to figure out how to delicately suggest she get retested when I overheard the conversation in his office.