The year I turned thirty, I decided to resign. This secret, one-sided love affair of mine had finally reached its end. I had spent five years climbing the ranks from a lowly assistant to Alexander Sterling’s executive secretary, and another three years making myself utterly indispensable to him. In the end, it took me exactly five minutes to write my resignation letter, and one second to hit send. 1 When I handed in the hard copy of my resignation, Alexander’s brows furrowed slightly. He looked up, his gaze settling on me in a quiet, deliberate stare. "Give me a reason." I lowered my head, avoiding his eyes, and forced the most genuine smile I could muster. "Mr. Sterling, I'm thirty this year. It's time for me to settle down." I paused for a moment, then added, "My boyfriend recently proposed." To ensure a smooth exit, I told a harmless lie. Alexander’s index finger began tapping rhythmically against his mahogany desk—a telltale sign that he was extremely irritated. Perhaps I should consider myself lucky. At least he wasn't completely indifferent to my departure. After a long silence, Alexander slid the resignation letter back across the desk to me. "I can approve an extended PTO for your wedding, but I expect you to seriously reconsider resigning." For a split second, I wavered. A seductive voice whispered incessantly in the back of my mind: Agree to it. Just say yes. At least you’ll still get to see him every day. But another voice sternly warned me: Emma, he’s getting engaged. Harboring a crush on a soon-to-be married man is crossing a line. My hand hovered in the air for a long time, but ultimately, I didn't take the paper back. "This job is too demanding. After I get married, I want to focus more on my family." "I will ensure all my current projects are fully transitioned before I go. I'm sorry, Mr. Sterling." Having pushed the conversation this far, Alexander stopped arguing. He replied coldly, "Understood. Happy wedding." Before I even left his office, he had already buried his head back in his paperwork. After all, to him, I was just a subordinate. The most useful one, perhaps, but just an employee nonetheless. 2 Later that day, I sat at my desk, staring blankly at the potted succulent next to my monitor. It was rare for me to zone out like this. My daily routine was usually a whirlwind, juggling the coordination of corporate affairs while simultaneously acting as Alexander’s personal assistant. My phone was on twenty-four-seven. Whenever Alexander needed me, I had to be there instantly. I did the work of three people combined. Of course, Alexander paid me a highly lucrative salary. Over the years, I had achieved complete financial freedom. "Emma? Emma!" Chloe, the junior assistant, called my name a few times before I finally snapped back to reality. "Mr. Sterling said to remind you to head over to the venue early tonight to make sure everything is set up for the welcome party." Tonight's gathering was to welcome Carter Brooks, who had just returned from studying abroad in Europe. The guest list consisted exclusively of Alexander’s inner circle. They were the young heirs of the city's most elite old-money families. Filthy rich, deeply privileged, and with standards higher than the sky. Logically, an outsider like me shouldn't have been welcome in their circle. But there was no helping it—I was simply too useful. People who can cater to everyone's specific moods and preferences, orchestrating a flawless party without a single hiccup, are incredibly rare. As soon as I arrived at the venue, I hit the ground running. From the catering to the cocktails to the appetizers, I double-checked every young heir's dietary restrictions and preferences. "Remove all the lilies from the centerpieces. Harrison is allergic." "Keep the ambient lighting dim. Leo just had laser eye surgery." "Make sure the bartender has that specific Kentucky bourbon Carter loves." As the sun fully set and the sky darkened, the guests began to trickle in. Tristan Vance was the first to arrive. Seeing me, he gave a casual wave. "When is Alex getting here?" I checked my watch and gave a precise answer: "He had a late conference call. Give him about an hour." Tristan collapsed onto the velvet sofa, looking lethargic, with dark circles under his eyes from sheer exhaustion. I signaled the staff to lower the music slightly and grabbed a throw blanket, handing it to him. "The autumn air is getting crisp, don't catch a cold. You have some time before the others arrive, get some rest." He chuckled, taking the blanket, and teased, "Honestly, Emma, you really should consider dumping Alex and coming to work for me. I'll double whatever he's paying you." For men like them, there were always countless people trying to kiss their boots. That made my demeanor stand out. Because I wanted nothing from them, I interacted with them naturally and openly. Ironically, that earned their respect. Playing along, I smiled and replied, "I'll keep that in mind. If I'm ever out of a job, I'll be counting on you to take me in, Tristan." 3 As the night deepened and the streetlights flickered on, the rest of the group finally arrived. Alexander walked in wearing a tailored black trench coat, bringing a wisp of the chilling autumn air with him. I took his coat, thinking to myself that this might be the very last time I’d do this. When the drinks were flowing and everyone was in high spirits, I found the right moment to announce my resignation. I had received a lot of grace from these men over the years. I stood up and raised my glass. "I'm officially stepping down from my position. When I first started, I was clueless and made plenty of mistakes. Thank you all for your patience over the years!" "It’s a big world out there, but I hope our paths cross again someday." Perhaps it was the melancholy of the autumn season, but a sudden heaviness settled over the dining table. It was Tristan who finally raised his glass toward me from across the table, breaking the awkward silence. "You know, in the beginning, I always thought you had some hidden agenda regarding Alex. It’s only right now that I actually believe you didn't." Everyone at the table silently understood what Tristan meant. After all, Alexander’s previous secretaries had all been fired for confessing their feelings to him. Later, Alexander started exclusively hiring male secretaries, only to get confessed to by them as well. Since then, he had earned a reputation as an untouchable heartthrob. Someone clapped Alexander on the shoulder and joked, "Didn't expect that, did you? Someone is actually immune to your charm." Alexander casually lit a cigar, laughing as he shot back, "Shut up." After dinner, a few of them set up a poker table to kill time. Halfway through the game, Tristan casually asked, "Alex, your grandmother arranged that marriage with the Kensington girl for you, right? Have you even met her yet?" My heart skipped a beat. The hand I was using to pour water froze in mid-air. After a moment, Alexander replied indifferently, "No. As long as the old lady is happy. Marrying one woman is the same as marrying another." For people in their echelon, marriage was always a transaction mixed with corporate interests and endless calculations. In a way, they enjoyed wealth and resources normal people couldn't even fathom; paying a price for it seemed fair. It seemed Alexander had already accepted the rules of the game. I had met Olivia Kensington once. A true Southern belle, gentle and sweet. She was a good girl. If possible, I truly wanted Alexander to have a happy ending, different from the cold marriages of his peers. 4 The gathering lasted late into the night. Chauffeurs had been waiting outside, and as the party broke up, the heirs were quickly whisked away. Only Alexander’s driver had run into a minor fender-bender on the way, making him late. This led to the exact scenario I dreaded the most: being completely alone with him. We stood side-by-side under a streetlight, our shadows stretching long across the pavement. Whenever this happened, all my buried resentment and dark, selfish thoughts would threaten to bubble to the surface. But Alexander knew nothing. He just stood there quietly, the alcohol making him seem slightly less sharp and intimidating than usual. Soon, his driver finally pulled up. Alexander turned to look at me, asking with gentlemanly courtesy, "Need a ride?" I shook my head, flashing a grateful but adequately distanced smile. "Thank you, Mr. Sterling. But my fiancé is already on his way." Alexander didn't press the issue. He gave a slight nod and slid into the backseat of the luxury sedan. The world was finally empty, leaving just me. The heavy, suffocating mask I wore all day could finally be ripped off. I kicked off my stilettos without a care and slumped onto the edge of a concrete planter, feeling a rare wave of absolute lostness. For a moment, I honestly didn't know where I was supposed to go. Soon after, a light drizzle began to fall. The first autumn rain cut right to the bone, cold and damp. I walked barefoot along the sidewalk. This was a gated, ultra-rich neighborhood, so I had to walk a long way before I could finally find a spot to hail a cab. … The main road Alexander usually took was under construction tonight. The driver didn't know, so they had to detour back out. Alexander didn't expect to see Emma again, standing by the road in the freezing rain, a pair of heels dangling casually from one hand. He was mildly surprised. He never imagined that his usually stoic, flawless executive secretary had such an... unkempt side. Every time he saw her at the office, she was always in a crisp, tailored suit, buttoned all the way to the top. He had seen plenty of women strategically unbutton their blouses and 'accidentally' lean over his desk. Emma was the exception. That was why he promoted her—first, for her sheer competence, and second, because she knew her boundaries. As they were about to drive past her, his driver asked from the front seat, "Sir, should we offer Ms. Hayes a ride?" Alexander’s eyes remained entirely unreadable. He answered simply, "No." He had already formed a very poor opinion of her so-called fiancé. Emma was a brilliant woman, but apparently, she had terrible taste in men. Still, matters of the heart were personal. It wasn't his place to interfere. 5 I wasn't sure if I saw Alexander’s car pass by. It was just a blur in the rain, maybe my mind was playing tricks on me. Taxis rarely frequented this upscale neighborhood, so my driver had to come from far away. I stood there until my legs were entirely numb before my ride finally showed up. By the time I got home, it was two or three in the morning. The entire house was dead silent. To the outside world, I projected the image of a woman with a happy family, a loving fiancé, and a vibrant social life. People would often look at me with envy and say: You have the perfect life. But the truth was, I had nothing. No family, no lover, no friends. When I was in middle school, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage three. She had a mastectomy, but less than six months later, it came back. One completely ordinary morning, my dad walked out the door for work and never came back. He emptied our bank accounts, leaving behind my dying mother and his underage daughter. Upon hearing the news, my mom was unusually calm. She quietly went through chemotherapy, stayed in the hospital, and on her good days, she would cook for me. One evening, I came home from school to find a table full of food. She sat across from me, smiling brightly. For some reason, a wave of sheer terror washed over me. When I leaned in, the food had a strange, bitter chemical smell. I suddenly remembered the brand-new bottle of rat poison she had bought for the bathroom. That was the first time I realized how terrifyingly strong my mother's grip was. No matter how hard I thrashed, I couldn't break free. A desperate will to live gave me the adrenaline to wrench myself from her grasp. I ran blindly, somehow ending up on the roof of our apartment building. My mother followed, crying, her arms wide open, babbling incoherently. "Emma, this world is too cruel. Mommy can't bear to leave you here all alone." "Come with me. We can be mother and daughter again in the next life." I cried too. I was so exhausted, and I missed the comforting smell of laundry detergent in my mom's hugs. Maybe this is it, I thought. Living isn't that great anyway. The wind on the roof was howling that night, but my mother's embrace was so warm. She held my hand, leading us step by step toward the ledge. Just as we were about to fall, a pair of thin, strong hands grabbed me. He pulled me back with everything he had, refusing to let go no matter how much I struggled. Swirling in the wind, all I could clearly see was a pair of strikingly bright eyes. I survived. My mother did not. That boy was Alexander Sterling. He not only saved my life, but he gave me a reason to keep living— To repay my debt to him. I felt like I had betrayed my mother. Back then, I was like a drowning person, desperate to grab onto any piece of driftwood. Alexander was that driftwood. When the fire trucks, police cars, and ambulances arrived, amidst the chaotic crowd, I grabbed his hand and looked up at him. "How can I repay you?" I still remember how the sixteen-year-old Alexander looked down at me and said with absolute sincerity: "Just remember to come find me." My life had been trapped on the night my mother died. Alexander was the only thing I had to look forward to.
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