I'd been in a secret relationship with Derek Hale at our multinational company for seven years, finally waiting for the day he'd be promoted to President of the Eastbridge Division. He promised me that once the celebration dinner ended, he'd come clean to the board, and we'd register our marriage next month.  To witness that moment, I pushed aside every meeting and rushed to his office door, only to overhear his longtime colleague ask, "Are you really taking on that eight-month overseas expansion assignment voluntarily? What about the wedding?" Derek answered without hesitation, "Natalie's waited seven years. She can wait eight more months. It's Chloe's first time leading a key project on her own. I need to be at the overseas branch to back her up, make sure those old-timers don't bully her." Chloe Summers, the management trainee who'd been rumored to have an office romance with him for the past six months.  So he wasn't afraid of crossing the company's "no workplace relationships" policy after all. He just never wanted to give me a title. For seven years, every time our relationship nearly got exposed to HR, I'd laughed it off in front of colleagues, covered for him, and played down any connection between us.  Yet for Chloe's sake, he'd let that trending gossip post on the company intranet stand, the one about how they'd fallen for each other during late-night overtime sessions. I deleted the resignation letter I'd been holding onto for seven years, the one I'd drafted to protect him, and sent a message to the group chairman instead. Natalie: I've signed the transfer order to serve as your chief of staff at head office. I'll report tomorrow.