From Secret Lover To Shining Star

boss, Arthur. When my mother needed an emergency $50,000 surg

sending me to his executive assistant, Deanne

ther

who was wearing a dress he'd bought for me. He d

gger and a slut in fro

career and withholding my bonuses, ensuring I'd never

, I made a call to the one man who had silently protected me for years. And

pte

Fifty thousand dollars. That was the number echoing in my head, a cruel, impossible sum for an experimental surgery th

ate face like a distorted mirror. Ten years. Ten years I' d spent loving him, living in h

eyes, usually sharp and assessing, barely registered my presence.

ainst the hum of the city outside his soundproof window

mask of professional detachment. "Alyssa," he said, his tone devoid of warmth, "you know comp

a company hardship. This is my mother. This is life o

yssa, you're an employee. We have procedures for this. It's a standard process. You apply,

ant me to go to Deanne for a personal loan? After everything

have a board meeting in five minutes. This isn't the time for

ssing me, dismissing my mother' s life, as a bureaucratic inconvenience. He saw me as a problem to be m

ided in, her posture impeccable, her eyes scanning me with barely concealed

e honeyed but firm, a clear signal for me to leave. She didn't even look at

is was his love. A cold shoulder and a dismissive referral to the very woman who had al

scuss this later. Go." He waved a hand, a gesture

ut without another word. Each step was a testament to a decade of blind loyalty, a decade of hoping for a love that was never truly there. The pristine white walls

I could call, one name that still felt safe in the wreckage of my life. Glenn. Glenn Moreno. It

, the word barely aud

warm and familiar, was a balm on my raw n

tumbling out. "My mother... she needs surgery. F

ernity. Then, his voice, firm and unwavering. "Say no mor

cting it to be so... easy. So immediate. "

taking on a serious edge. "A long time ago, I promised you something. I told you if you ever

A stark contrast to the hollow promises I'd just been offered. "Yes," I whisp

iumph I hadn't heard in years. "Because I'm still

er, sorrow for a love that had never been. My fingers flew across the keyboard, typing out a

, we're

e, my head held high. Deanne was still at her desk, typing furiously. I didn't say a word. I simply placed my company ID badge and the small, silver key to Arthur

and walked toward the elevator, not bothering to wait for the next car. I took the stairs, each step lighter than the last, lea

ediary for our every interaction outside the confines of his penthouse. If I wanted to schedule dinner, I' d email Deanne. If I needed to know Arthur' s travel plans, Deanne would relay them, always wi

cleaning, even decide which new clothes I might need, always choosing sensible, almost

onship, "Deanne keeps ordering my clothes. And she

am. She streamlines everything. Trust her judgement. She has excellent taste. Besides, you're not exactly a fashi

s. Deanne was Ivy League-educated, polished, effortlessly chic. I was just... me. A kind, resilient woman who had fallen for a tech CEO. What did I know about

humanity. He had chosen to keep me small, to keep me dependent. He had given Deanne the power to dim my light, and she had wielded it with ruthless precision. The thought of them together, building a life on the ruins of mine, filled me with a sudden, fierce resolve. Arthur was hers now. He was her prize. And