After Dumped, Marry CEO and Become Aunt of My Ex

By day, she was his secretary, buried in paperwork and corporate demands. By night, she was his, unraveling under his touch. Yiyi Xu learned the true meaning of that whispered office adage only after she became Mrs. Silas Fu. Tonight, after a quiet dinner, they didn’t make it past the living room. Desire sparked like wildfire, consuming them on the plush velvet of the sectional. Silas’s lips grazed her ear, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Miss Xu, open your legs.” The husky command sent shivers through her, her body softening as she complied, lost in the heat of his gaze. A month into their marriage, Yiyi and Silas were a symphony of passion, their bodies perfectly attuned in a dance of raw need. She hadn’t always been his. Once, she was just another cog in the machine of Fu Enterprises, a junior secretary drowning in spreadsheets. Before Silas, there was Ziyu Shen—her childhood love, her first everything. Seven years of stolen glances and promises that felt eternal. They’d fallen hard after high school, Ziyu’s confession sealing their bond. But college meant distance, four years of fleeting visits and late-night texts. After graduation, they both chased ambition in the capital—she at Fu Enterprises, he as a courthouse clerk. Their careers devoured their time, leaving their love to wither in the gaps. Three years into their jobs, when marriage should’ve been on the horizon, Ziyu delivered a gut punch: an elegant wedding invitation. His wedding. To Bai Shuqin, the polished heiress of the Bai dynasty. Worse, he begged Yiyi to erase their past, to pretend their seven years never happened. She wasn’t even granted the title of ex-girlfriend—just a ghost in his story. It was absurd. Infuriating. She skipped the wedding, but her social feed betrayed her, flashing photos from classmates. Ziyu’s opulent ceremony, dripping in wealth. And there, in the guest gallery, was Silas Fu—her untouchable CEO—seated at the bride’s head table. “Stay with me,” Silas’s voice cut through her haze, his hands tightening on her waist, grounding her in the moment. Yiyi’s soft moans filled the air, each one more desperate, more broken, as their rhythm surged. Unsated, Silas lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom for another round of their intoxicating battle. How does he have the energy? Yiyi wondered, her body spent. He commands boardrooms all day, yet still claims me like this at night. --- Morning came too soon. Yiyi’s once-precise internal clock now faltered, disrupted by her new life as Silas’s wife. They lived in a sleek downtown penthouse, steps from Fu Enterprises, a far cry from her old suburban commute. In the kitchen, Silas was already at work, crafting breakfast with the same precision he brought to everything. No live-in staff for him—privacy was paramount, with only a part-time cleaner to maintain their pristine home. Yiyi shuffled in, sheepish. “I’ll try to wake earlier. Let me handle breakfast tomorrow.” “No need,” he said, his tone clipped as he carried two sandwiches to the table. Yiyi watched his broad back, biting her lip. The man was an enigma—fire in bed, ice everywhere else. A machine cloaked in tailored suits, impossible to read. She picked at her sandwich, craving the comfort of soy milk and steaming pork buns, but Silas leaned toward Western tastes. So she adapted, claiming to love it too, molding herself to fit his world. Marrying Silas wasn’t a whim—it was strategy, born from Ziyu’s betrayal. At the wedding, she’d learned Silas was Shuqin’s uncle. If Yiyi, a nobody, wanted to strike back at the man who’d traded her for a heiress, what better way than to claim his uncle? Becoming Ziyu’s *aunt* was the ultimate checkmate. As his secretary, she had proximity, but Silas was a fortress. In three years, she’d barely glimpsed him. So she studied his habits, orchestrated “accidental” run-ins—coffee shops, elevators, late-night filings. Nothing stuck. Until she overheard Lady Fu, his grandmother, hounding him about marriage. That was her in. Heart racing, Yiyi had stormed his office, pitching herself like a deal. “Mr. Fu, I’m Yiyi Xu, from your secretarial team. I’ve admired you forever. Need a wife? I’m your girl—five-two, ninety-nine pounds, charming but low-maintenance. I can win over your grandmother, run a household, and keep your empire in order.” His response? A cold, “Get out.” She braced for dismissal, but three days later, she was signing a marriage license. She’d played her hand and won. Silas didn’t need love—he needed a buffer against his grandmother’s relentless matchmaking. Yiyi was the perfect pawn, perfectly timed. --- At the office, Yiyi worked through her aches, last night’s passion lingering in her sore muscles. “Yiyi, Assistant Su needs these delivered to the CEO’s office,” said Qin Qing, the team lead, handing over a stack of files. “On it.” Yiyi grabbed the documents and left. Behind her, the secretarial pool buzzed. “Anyone else notice Su’s been picking Yiyi for these runs?” Ma Rong whispered. Chen Wenli nodded eagerly. “He never used to care who delivered. You think…?” “Definitely,” Ma Rong said. “Su’s got it bad for her.” Liu Xia, Yiyi’s friend, shrugged. “They’re both single, same age. If they hit it off, it’d be cute.” Ma Rong sneered. “Cute? Su’s just a glorified assistant. Bagging him’s no big deal. Now, *Mr. Fu*? That’s the real catch.” Chen Wenli sighed. “I don’t get what he’s into. I dropped off files once, and he didn’t even look at me.” Ma Rong’s face darkened. Older and more seasoned, she’d endured Silas’s indifference too. Every single woman in the office dreamed of cracking the CEO’s icy exterior. “Enough,” Qin Qing snapped. “Work, or you’re all staying late.” --- Yiyi knocked on the CEO’s door. “Come in,” Silas’s deep voice answered. She set the files on his desk. “All done, Mr. Fu. I’ll head back now~” Her voice softened, teasing. Silas paused, pen stilling. He beckoned her closer. “Come here.” Curious, she stepped forward. In one fluid motion, he pulled her onto his lap, her pulse spiking. His hand slid under her blouse, deftly unfastening her bra. Then, with a slow, deliberate touch, he cupped her, kneading gently, stoking a fire that threatened to burn them both alive.