HIS TWO HEARTS

George Miller had never believed in love at first sight. He believed in power, money, discipline, and the kind of determination that turned an ordinary man into someone the world had no choice but to respect. Love, in his opinion, was unpredictable. It made people irrational, distracted them from their goals, and sometimes convinced them to make the worst decisions of their lives. Yet, at thirty-two, George had already accomplished everything he had once dreamed of. He was the CEO of Miller Enterprises, one of the fastest-growing companies in the country. His face appeared in business magazines, his name commanded respect in boardrooms, and his wealth allowed him to live a life most people could only imagine. He also had a beautiful wife. Emily Gregory Miller. For three years, Emily had been the woman beside him at charity galas, business dinners, and family gatherings. She was elegant, intelligent, and admired by almost everyone who knew her. Together, they looked like the perfect couple. And perhaps, once upon a time, they had been. But lately, George had begun to wonder whether looking happy and actually being happy were two entirely different things. "George?" His wife's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up from his phone. Emily stood in front of the bedroom mirror, adjusting the diamond earrings he had bought her for their second wedding anniversary. She wore a cream silk dress, and her dark hair fell neatly over her shoulders. "Are you even listening to me?" she asked. "Of course." "What did I say?" George glanced at his phone again. Emily sighed. "Exactly." He placed the phone on the bedside table. "I'm sorry. It's been a long morning." "It's barely seven o'clock." "I have a board meeting." "You always have a board meeting." There was no anger in her voice, only exhaustion. George stood and walked over to her. He placed a brief kiss on her forehead before reaching for his watch. "Let's not do this today, Emily." "Do what?" "This." She stared at him through the mirror. "Ask my husband to spend five minutes talking to me?" George said nothing. Emily turned around. "Do you remember when you used to tell me everything about your day? Even the things I didn't understand? You would come home and talk for an hour about a deal that went wrong or a client who annoyed you." "That was before the company became what it is today." "And now?" "Now I have responsibilities." She gave a quiet, humourless laugh. "And I suppose I'm not one of them anymore." George's expression hardened. "You're making this bigger than it needs to be." "No, George. I'm trying to understand when my husband became a stranger to me." For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then George picked up his briefcase. "I'll see you tonight." Emily watched him walk toward the door. "Will you?" He paused. "What is that supposed to mean?" "Nothing." She turned back toward the mirror. "Have a good day, George." He left without another word. When the bedroom door closed, Emily remained still for several seconds. She hated how easily he could walk away from an argument, leaving her alone with all the things she wished she had said. She had married George because she loved him, not because of his money or his surname. She had believed that no matter how successful he became, the man who once held her hand beneath a streetlight and promised her a beautiful future would always find his way back to her. Lately, she wasn't so sure. And she was beginning to fear that she was the only one still trying to save their marriage. --- At exactly eight fifteen, George arrived at Miller Enterprises. His driver opened the car door, and George stepped out, straightening the cuff of his navy-blue suit. "Good morning, sir," the security guards greeted him. He nodded and walked into the building. Employees hurried through the lobby, some carrying documents while others spoke quietly into their phones. The moment George appeared, several people straightened their backs and greeted him. He acknowledged them without slowing down. By the time he reached his office on the twenty-second floor, he was already thinking about the contracts waiting on his desk. "Good morning, Mr. Miller." The voice came from behind him. George turned. A young woman stood beside the reception desk, holding a folder against her chest. She wore a fitted black skirt, a pale-blue blouse, and simple black heels. Her dark hair was neatly styled, and her expression was calm despite the obvious nervousness in her eyes. "Who are you?" he asked. The woman blinked. "Evelyn Samantha, sir. Your new executive assistant." George glanced at the folder in her hands. "My assistant was supposed to resume next week." "Yes, sir. However, the recruitment department informed me yesterday that my resumption date had been moved forward. I sent an email confirming the change." He looked at her for a moment. "You sent me an email?" "Yes, sir." "I receive over two hundred emails a day." "I understand, sir." "Then you should understand that I don't have time to search through all of them." Evelyn pressed her lips together. "Of course, sir. I printed the revised schedule and placed it in your office. I've also confirmed your appointments for today and prepared the documents for your ten o'clock meeting." That caught his attention. "You've done all that already?" "Yes, sir." "Without knowing how I prefer my schedule arranged?" "I checked the previous schedules available to me and followed the existing format. I also highlighted two appointments that overlap, in case you'd like to reschedule one of them." For the first time that morning, George looked at her properly. Most people who worked for him either feared him or tried too hard to impress him. Evelyn seemed determined to do her job without doing either. "Bring me the schedule." "Certainly, sir." She handed him the folder. George opened it, scanning the neatly arranged pages. Everything was organised, and the overlapping appointments had been clearly marked. He looked up. "How long have you worked as an assistant?" "Four years, sir." "And why did you leave your previous position?" "The company relocated its headquarters. The move wasn't suitable for me, so I decided to pursue another opportunity." "Did you leave on good terms?" "Yes, sir. You can contact my previous employer if you need a reference." George raised an eyebrow. "You're confident." "I believe in my work, sir." He studied her for another moment before closing the folder. "Good. I don't like incompetence, and I don't tolerate excuses. If I ask you to do something, I expect it done properly and on time." "Understood." "Your working hours are eight to six. If I need you to stay later, I expect you to be available." Evelyn nodded. "Is there anything else, sir?" George almost smiled at her directness. "No. You may go." "Thank you, sir." She turned and walked toward her desk outside his office. George watched her for a second before looking back at the schedule. He had interviewed several candidates for the position, but something told him Evelyn Samantha might be exactly what his office needed. He had no idea how much he would eventually come to depend on her. --- By eleven thirty, Evelyn had already learned three things about her new boss. First, George Miller hated being interrupted during meetings. Second, he drank his coffee without sugar and became noticeably impatient when it was cold. Third, he expected everyone around him to anticipate his needs before he expressed them. It was a demanding job, but Evelyn wasn't intimidated easily. She had worked hard to get where she was, and she wasn't about to let a difficult employer make her question her abilities. She was reviewing a set of documents when George's office door opened. "Evelyn." She stood immediately. "Yes, sir?" "Coffee." "Would you like me to bring it now?" He looked at her. "Do you see anyone else here?" Evelyn took a breath. "No, sir." "Then who do you think I'm talking to?" She gave him a polite smile. "I'll bring it right away." She walked to the break room, prepared his coffee, and returned less than five minutes later. George took the cup without looking away from his laptop. "Thank you." The words were so unexpected that Evelyn almost paused. "You're welcome, sir." She returned to her desk. A few minutes later, George called her again. This time, he needed a document from the finance department. Then he asked her to contact a client whose meeting had been postponed. By lunchtime, she had barely had a moment to sit still. Yet, she didn't complain. At one fifteen, George stepped out of his office and found her eating a sandwich while reviewing a spreadsheet. "You're working through lunch?" Evelyn looked up. "I'm reviewing the figures for this afternoon's presentation." "That wasn't what I asked." She swallowed before answering. "I haven't finished yet, sir." George glanced at the sandwich beside her keyboard. "Finish eating first. The presentation can wait ten minutes." Evelyn stared at him briefly. "All right. Thank you." He nodded and returned to his office. She watched the door close. Perhaps he wasn't quite as unreasonable as he seemed. Inside his office, George sat behind his desk and returned to work. He hadn't meant to sound considerate. He had simply noticed that his new assistant had been working continuously since she arrived. That was all. At least, that was what he told himself. --- At six thirty, George finally left the office. He had spent most of the afternoon in meetings, reviewing contracts and negotiating a deal that had taken months to arrange. As he walked toward the elevator, he noticed Evelyn still seated at her desk. "You're still here?" She looked up. "I'm finishing tomorrow's schedule, sir." "Didn't I tell you to leave at six?" "You did." "Then why are you still here?" She hesitated. "I wanted to make sure everything was ready for tomorrow morning." George stared at her. For a moment, he was reminded of himself when he had first started building his company. Back then, he had worked late every night because he believed that if he stopped moving, someone else would get ahead of him. He understood ambition. "Go home, Evelyn." She nodded and began gathering her things. "Good night, Mr. Miller." "Good night." He stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, George glanced at his reflection in the polished metal. He was tired. All he wanted was a quiet evening at home, a decent meal, and perhaps a conversation with his wife that didn't end in an argument. He wondered whether Emily would still be awake when he arrived. Then he remembered the look on her face that morning. For a brief moment, guilt settled in his chest. He had been neglecting her. He knew that. But he also knew he couldn't afford to let his personal life distract him from the company. He would make it up to her on the weekend. He always told himself that. When George arrived home, Emily was sitting in the living room. The television was on, but she wasn't watching it. She had changed into a comfortable dress and was holding a book she hadn't turned a page of in nearly an hour. "You're late," she said. George loosened his tie. "I had work." "You could have called." "My phone was on silent during the meeting." Emily placed the book on the table. "You couldn't send one message when the meeting ended?" He exhaled. "Emily, please. I'm tired." "And I'm lonely, George." He stopped unbuttoning his jacket. She rarely said things so directly. Emily stood and approached him. "I don't expect you to spend every second of the day with me. I know your company is important. I know you have responsibilities. But sometimes, I feel like I'm married to your schedule instead of you." George looked at her. "What do you want me to do?" "Notice me." The answer was so simple that it left him without an immediate response. Emily's eyes softened. "Ask me how my day went. Sit with me for dinner. Tell me something about your life that doesn't involve a business deal. I don't want expensive gifts, George. I want my husband." He looked away. He remembered the woman she had been when they first met. She used to wait for him after work, sometimes bringing food because she knew he had forgotten to eat. She would listen to him talk about his ambitions for hours, even when she had no idea what half of the business terms meant. She had believed in him before the rest of the world did. And somewhere along the way, he had begun treating her patience as though it were unlimited. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. Emily searched his face. "Are you?" "Yes." "Then come and have dinner with me tomorrow. No calls, no emails, no business meetings. Just us." George hesitated. He had a meeting with an international investor the following evening, but he could probably rearrange it. "All right." A small smile appeared on her face. "Promise?" He reached for her hand. "I promise." For the first time in weeks, Emily felt a little hopeful. She leaned against him, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. For a few moments, they stood together in the quiet living room, trying to remember what it felt like to be enough for each other. Neither of them noticed how fragile that moment was. Neither of them knew that the following morning, George would walk into his office and discover that the woman who had occupied his thoughts for no particular reason was becoming someone he looked forward to seeing. And neither of them could have imagined that an ordinary employment decision would eventually test the foundations of their marriage. Because sometimes, the greatest threats to a relationship don't arrive announcing themselves. Sometimes, they walk through the front door wearing a simple blouse, carrying a folder, and introducing themselves as the new assistant. And sometimes, the danger isn't that you fall in love with someone new. It's that you slowly stop noticing the person who has loved you all along. End of Chapter One.