My Hot Wife's Double Life - Chapter 13: Chapter 13
You are reading My Hot Wife's Double Life, Chapter 13: Chapter 13. Read more chapters of My Hot Wife's Double Life.
Sophia was right. I'd always known the truth about Emily—she was a fair-weather wife, there for the good times but never the storms.
Even when my factory was collapsing, her spending never slowed. Designer bags, luxury cosmetics—she swiped those credit cards without a second thought, leaving me to clean up the mess.
Her lifestyle? Non-negotiable.
She was a princess, through and through—used to being spoiled, never the one doing the heavy lifting.
When I didn't respond, Sophia kept talking. "I divorced my ex. He was impotent and lied about it until our wedding night. I stayed three years because his mom was dying of cancer. When it was over, he gave me half a million as compensation."
She shrugged. "I'm not some floozy, but a marriage without intimacy? No thanks. He was decent—just not for me."
I almost laughed. Without thinking, I said, "Rumor has it you're the top sales agent at your firm because you sleep with clients."
Instead of snapping, Sophia locked eyes with me, deadly serious. "Oh, so that's the office gossip? Fine—let me swear on my life. Every property I've ever sold, I closed with my own skills and connections. If I've ever slept with a client, may my entire family drop dead."
She smirked. "Ask those jealous coworkers if they'd dare take that oath."
I was floored.
The way she said it—no hesitation, no waver—made me question everything I'd heard. Maybe the rumors were just that: rumors.
And then there was that accidental glimpse of her using a toy at home.
If she were really the seductress people claimed, she wouldn't have needed it.
But honestly? It didn't matter.
I wasn't marrying her. Even if she had slept her way to the top, it wasn't my business.
I was desperate, with nowhere else to go.
Sophia offered me a place to stay—rent-free until I got back on my feet.
With terms like that, how could I say no?
A month in, I realized how wrong I'd been about her. She kept a strict 9-to-5, no shady "late-night client meetings" like Emily had insisted.
When I finally asked, Sophia burst out laughing. "Who the hell tours properties at night? Clients want daylight to check the lighting. You really bought Emily's crap?"
I had no comeback.
I'd been a fool.
Sophia had connections like nobody's business. I watched her work—meticulous, patient, even walking elderly clients through every detail.
Later, I met her manager, who set the record straight. "The rumors? Pure jealousy. Sophia was one of our first agents—no degree, just grit. She earned every damn sale herself."
Hearing that, I finally let go of my doubts.
Sophia even hooked me up with two of her clients. One sweet old lady, who adored her, placed an order with me purely out of trust in Sophia.
Over the moon, I restarted my factory.
When I hit a cash crunch, Sophia slid a card across the table. "Half a million. Consider it a loan."
I grinned. "What if I can't pay you back?"
She flashed a wicked smile. "Then you're mine. Not the worst fate, right?"
Even when my factory was collapsing, her spending never slowed. Designer bags, luxury cosmetics—she swiped those credit cards without a second thought, leaving me to clean up the mess.
Her lifestyle? Non-negotiable.
She was a princess, through and through—used to being spoiled, never the one doing the heavy lifting.
When I didn't respond, Sophia kept talking. "I divorced my ex. He was impotent and lied about it until our wedding night. I stayed three years because his mom was dying of cancer. When it was over, he gave me half a million as compensation."
She shrugged. "I'm not some floozy, but a marriage without intimacy? No thanks. He was decent—just not for me."
I almost laughed. Without thinking, I said, "Rumor has it you're the top sales agent at your firm because you sleep with clients."
Instead of snapping, Sophia locked eyes with me, deadly serious. "Oh, so that's the office gossip? Fine—let me swear on my life. Every property I've ever sold, I closed with my own skills and connections. If I've ever slept with a client, may my entire family drop dead."
She smirked. "Ask those jealous coworkers if they'd dare take that oath."
I was floored.
The way she said it—no hesitation, no waver—made me question everything I'd heard. Maybe the rumors were just that: rumors.
And then there was that accidental glimpse of her using a toy at home.
If she were really the seductress people claimed, she wouldn't have needed it.
But honestly? It didn't matter.
I wasn't marrying her. Even if she had slept her way to the top, it wasn't my business.
I was desperate, with nowhere else to go.
Sophia offered me a place to stay—rent-free until I got back on my feet.
With terms like that, how could I say no?
A month in, I realized how wrong I'd been about her. She kept a strict 9-to-5, no shady "late-night client meetings" like Emily had insisted.
When I finally asked, Sophia burst out laughing. "Who the hell tours properties at night? Clients want daylight to check the lighting. You really bought Emily's crap?"
I had no comeback.
I'd been a fool.
Sophia had connections like nobody's business. I watched her work—meticulous, patient, even walking elderly clients through every detail.
Later, I met her manager, who set the record straight. "The rumors? Pure jealousy. Sophia was one of our first agents—no degree, just grit. She earned every damn sale herself."
Hearing that, I finally let go of my doubts.
Sophia even hooked me up with two of her clients. One sweet old lady, who adored her, placed an order with me purely out of trust in Sophia.
Over the moon, I restarted my factory.
When I hit a cash crunch, Sophia slid a card across the table. "Half a million. Consider it a loan."
I grinned. "What if I can't pay you back?"
She flashed a wicked smile. "Then you're mine. Not the worst fate, right?"
End of My Hot Wife's Double Life Chapter 13. View all chapters or return to My Hot Wife's Double Life book page.