Sincerely, His Secretary

Chapter 9: The Transfer Request

Vanessa had never hated the sound of her own heels before. But now, every sharp tap on the polished office floors felt like a reminder — a beat that echoed you’re still here, you’re still his, you’re still not free. She typed harder. Smiled tighter. Laughed at the wrong times and didn’t laugh when she should have. Mike had left for Zurich two days ago, and with him, went the last illusion of normalcy.

She was tired of Thomas making decisions about her life without having the guts to explain why. He didn’t want her, fine. But he didn’t get to sabotage every glimpse of something she might want.

So when Sharon whispered that Robert Brown — the Robert Brown — had just arrived in the building for the first time in months, Vanessa didn’t hesitate.

She marched straight to the elevator.

—

Robert’s office on the 20th floor was nothing like his son's.

It was warmer. More chaotic. Framed jazz records. A coffee machine older than most interns. Books stacked like precarious architecture.

He looked up from a call and smiled the moment he saw her.

— Miss Carter! To what do I owe the pleasure?

Vanessa hesitated for only a second.

Then breathed deep and smiled.

— I’d like to discuss a possible departmental transfer.

Robert raised both brows. His expression shifted — interested, amused, and just slightly concerned.

— I see. Have a seat.

She did.

Tried not to let her knees bounce.

Tried not to look like she was running from anything.

Robert steepled his fingers.

— Before I ask “why,” let me guess. My son is being... himself?

Vanessa didn’t flinch.

— I just think I could be more effective in a different environment. Something more... stable.

— And Zurich is stable?

She smiled politely.

— I hear it’s beautiful this time of year.

Robert chuckled.

— You’re clever. I like that. Unfortunately for you, so does Thomas.

Vanessa stiffened.

— He’s not the reason I want to leave.

Robert leaned forward, eyes sharp despite the age behind them.

— Isn’t he?

She opened her mouth.

Closed it.

Robert sat back.

— You know, when I hired you, I thought it would shake him up. What I didn’t expect is that you’d be the one thing he couldn’t control.

Vanessa frowned.

— I’m not trying to cause trouble.

— Of course you’re not. You’re trying to survive it. And that? Makes you very interesting to watch.

She glanced down at her hands.

— I don’t want to be interesting. I want to work.

Robert sighed, tone softening.

— Tell you what. I’ll think about it. No promises. But between us? If he lets you go, he’s a bigger i***t than I thought.

—

Thomas found out three hours later.

The moment the elevator doors opened, and his father stepped into his office like he still owned it.

— You’re losing her, — Robert said without greeting.

Thomas didn’t look up.

— She came to you?

— She asked for a transfer. Very politely. Very carefully. Like someone trying not to sound like she’s bleeding internally.

Thomas exhaled through his nose.

— I can’t let her go.

Robert tilted his head.

— Because she’s good at her job?

— Because she’s... essential to the flow of things here.

— Oh yes. The “flow of things.” Very smooth. Very neutral. You forget I invented that excuse, son.

Thomas finally met his gaze.

And saw it — that flicker of fatherly understanding that made everything worse.

— It’s not that simple.

— She’s not your wife.

— No.

— But you’re acting like she is.

Thomas didn’t respond.

Robert walked to the window, stared out at the skyline like it might explain his son’s dysfunction.

— Amanda called me, by the way.

Thomas winced.

Of course she had.

— She’s worried. Said you’re distracted. Restless.

— I’m fine.

— You’re not. You’re spinning. And you’re dragging that girl into the eye of your storm. You don’t get to want her and keep her safe at the same time.

Silence.

Then Robert turned.

Voice lower now. Sharper.

— I built this company on control. On image. You think you’re different, but you’re not. You want her, but you don’t want the fallout. So you’re sabotaging every man who looks at her and wondering why she’s pulling away.

Thomas looked away.

Robert’s voice softened. But it hit harder.

— You have a wife, son. And a name. And a future that doesn't include scandal. You want to chase something reckless? Do it honestly. Or don’t do it at all. But don’t ruin her to keep yourself undecided.

He left without waiting for a reply.

And Thomas stood alone in the silence that followed — realizing, for the first time, that maybe he wasn’t protecting Vanessa at all.

Maybe he was protecting himself.

He found her alone in the small file room near the west corridor, scrolling through an old cabinet like the paper would tell her something digital life couldn’t.

Thomas didn’t knock. He never knocked.

Vanessa didn’t turn when the door opened.

— You shouldn’t be here, — she said quietly.

— Then fire me, — he replied.

She snorted softly.

— Tempting.

He stepped closer, but not too close. Enough to feel the wall she’d built between them.

— You spoke to my father.

She still didn’t look at him.

— I did.

— You want to transfer?

— I wanted a chance to breathe. And to not feel like I’m constantly in someone’s way.

Silence.

Then he said it, voice quieter than usual.

— It’s not that I want to control you.

She finally turned. And her eyes were colder than he expected.

— No? Because it feels a lot like that. Like I’m something you’re trying to keep in a glass case. Look, but don’t touch. Talk to, but not too much. Laugh, but only with you.

He swallowed.

— I don’t want you to go.

— Why?

A pause.

A beat too long.

Then:

— Because it’s good with you.

That stopped her.

Her breath caught somewhere between confusion and ache.

Then he added:

— As a team. As colleagues.

And just like that — the warmth shattered.

Her face didn’t change.

But her entire body stiffened, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over her spine.

— Of course.

He realized it too late.

The way her shoulders dropped. The way she folded the paper in her hand without looking at it.

— Vanessa—

— Don’t. It’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.

He stepped forward, finally desperate.

— You don’t understand—

— I do. You like the chaos when it’s on your terms. You like me when I’m convenient. But the second it gets real, you run back to the safety of labels and status and—whatever this is.

She didn’t yell.

Didn’t cry.

That somehow made it worse.

She looked at him like she’d seen the man behind the curtain, and it wasn’t magic at all.

Then she said:

— I’m giving you a month.

He blinked.

— What?

— A month, Thomas. If this — us, whatever this is — stays this confusing, if you keep pushing and pulling and hiding behind your title, I’ll go. I’ll transfer. I’ll find somewhere else to breathe.

Her voice softened.

— But if you can be honest. If you can let this be… simple, quiet, safe — even just once — I’ll stay.

She stepped past him.

Opened the door.

Paused only once, without looking back.

— I don’t need you to promise me forever, Thomas. I just need you to stop pretending I don’t matter.

And then she was gone.

And for the first time in years —

He didn’t know if he could give someone what they deserved,

Even when what they deserved was him.