Dumping the Billionaire Who Kept Me a Secret

The Bentley's taillights vanished at the intersection, while comments continued to race up the group chat: A: The two who missed their chance in college have finally found their way back to each other. B: Good thing a certain someone didn't get in. Otherwise Vanessa would've had to put up with her attitude all night again. C: Imagine thinking a few extra projects would be enough to win over the boss. I stood where I was, my shoes already full of water. When the car window rolled down, I saw Ethan lay a clean towel over Vanessa's soaked sleeve. He always wiped his sweat on his shirt after his morning run, so I had bought towels to keep in the car. I remembered to take care of little things like that for him, yet I could no longer remember the last time I'd gotten into his car through the company's front entrance. My name was Clara Bennett. At 28, I'd spent 9 years with Ethan and 5 at his family's company. I was still only a senior project specialist. Vanessa had gone to college with him. 4 months earlier, she'd gotten divorced and then lost her job. Ethan placed her on my project team, saying she needed a fresh start. I put together her onboarding materials and even assigned her the easiest tasks on my plate. Now she was my boss. My phone rang. "You still haven't made it to the pharmacy?" Ethan asked. When I opened my mouth, I realized how hoarse my voice was. "The rain is too heavy." "Are you crying?" My eyes burned hotter. For one fleeting moment, I thought he would finally ask where I was and tell the driver to turn around. Instead, he said, "It's only one promotion. You don't need to make such a scene." "I just wanted to go home with you." "From the front of the office? Clara, you know what it would look like if someone saw us." I tightened my grip on the phone. "And it doesn't look like anything when she rides in your car?" "She's just an old classmate. Stop making everything so complicated." I stared at the photo on my screen, unable to find an answer. 9 years ago, we'd never had to debate whether we were allowed to sit beside each other. Back then, Ethan worked as a designer at an architecture firm, while I worked night shifts at a hotel front desk to save for tuition. The heat in our apartment stayed broken all winter. He wrapped our only thick blanket around me and held me while we watched our secondhand television. One night, the power went out. By candlelight, we drew the house we wanted to live in someday on a sheet of his drafting paper. I wrote 'east-facing' beside the kitchen, saying I wanted sunlight when I came home from the night shift. He added a garage. When I complained it took up too much space, he erased half of it and shifted the dining table closer to the window. The next day, we taped that drawing to the refrigerator. When friends came over for dinner, they laughed that we couldn't even afford a new fridge. Ethan put an arm around me and said we could save up for it little by little. Then his father fell ill, and Ethan returned to Vale Group to take over the hotel business. His uncle refused to let go of control, and the board waited for him to fail. Ethan came to me and asked if I would help him. I gave up the supervisor role I'd just earned and followed him to Vale. Before the first hotel opened, I worked 6 weeks without a day off. On opening night, I stood backstage with a fever and watched him raise his glass to thunderous applause. He came down and hugged me. I thought we could finally make our relationship public, but he glanced back at the door first. "Just wait a little longer. If we tell them now, they'll say everything you've achieved is because I favor you." I believed him. I delivered the second project, then the third, handling problems on my own that were far more complex than the role I kept being denied. In 5 years, I helped open 7 hotels. Ethan had long since stopped needing his uncle's approval. Yet I still had to avoid my coworkers just to ride in his car. Over the phone, Vanessa softly reminded him that the restaurant was holding their table. "Ethan," I said before he could hang up. "Come back for me. Don't make me wait again—not today." He didn't answer. I drew a breath. "If you still think I shouldn't be seen at your side, then we're over." His voice cooled beneath the roar of the rain. "Do you really think it's appropriate to threaten me with a breakup just to get a promotion?" "I didn't—" "We'll talk when you can speak rationally." The call ended. I kept the phone pressed to my ear, listening to nothing but the rain. Then 2 messages came through: Ethan: I have plans tonight. Find your own way home. Ethan: And don't use a breakup to test me again.