The Billionaire's Secretary's Secret

Old Scars

“What did you say?” Scott asked in a calm voice, though his expression was cold enough to freeze the air.

“I’m really sorry for getting into your personal affairs,” Susan stammered. “I don’t gossip, sir—honestly, I don’t. But I just wanted to help. I know it’s a sensitive situation. I happen to have a friend who’s smart, beautiful, and… understanding. If you don’t mind, she wouldn’t mind playing the part.”

The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop herself.

Scott stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, in that same unnervingly calm tone, he said, “Get me a cup of coffee.”

Susan blinked. “Oh—yes, sir!”

Her thoughts swirled in confusion as she walked to the coffee machine. Get me a cup of coffee? That’s all? she muttered under her breath while measuring three cubes of sugar—just the way he liked it. Was he ignoring me? Or did I just make the biggest mistake of my life?

A few minutes later, she returned with the steaming cup on a saucer and placed it carefully on his desk.

Scott took a slow sip, then gestured for her to stay. His piercing green eyes locked on hers, making her feel like she had stepped into the lion’s den.

“So,” he said through clenched teeth, “you think I can’t get a wife on my own?”

“N-no, sir, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then why,” he interrupted sharply, “would you go talk to people about my situation?”

“I didn’t, sir! I swear I didn’t tell anyone else.”

“And you expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth,” Susan replied, her voice trembling.

Scott leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes narrowed. “Tell me the truth right now, or I’ll ask HR to prepare your termination letter.”

“Please, sir!” she blurted. “I only thought maybe we could help each other.”

He frowned. “Help each other? What do you mean?”

Tears pricked her eyes. “My son and I have been asked to move out tomorrow. We have nowhere to go. I thought maybe…

If I could help you with your problem, you could help me—with a company loan, maybe.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

“You’re my only hope.”

Scott’s expression softened, though his face remained controlled. He took another sip of his coffee, thinking.

“This lady,” he said finally. “What does she do?”

Susan let out a shaky breath. “She owns a bakery.”

After a pause, Scott nodded. “Tell her I’ll meet with her to discuss it further—at seven this evening. Text me your address.

I’ll pick you up a few minutes before.”

“Pick me up?” she repeated, startled.

He gave her a pointed look. “Don’t you plan to see this through to the end?”

“Alright, sir,” she murmured.

“Good. Get back to work.”

Scott’s POV

When Susan left, Scott rose and walked to the tall glass window, hands buried in his pockets. The city skyline stretched before him, glittering in the afternoon light—but all he could see were shadows of the past.

His mind drifted back to his teenage years.

Flashback

He was sixteen when his grandfather came to pick him up from school.

“Dad said he’d be coming for me today,” Scott told the driver as he opened the car door.

“I’m sorry, Master Scott,” the driver said quietly. “Your grandfather insisted I come instead.”

Scott frowned but said nothing. The silence in the car was heavy.

When they arrived home, he noticed the somber faces of the household staff. Some looked at him with pity; others avoided his gaze. His heart began to pound.

He ran upstairs to his father’s room—but found only his grandmother, weeping silently by the window.

“What’s wrong, Grandma? Where’s Dad?” he asked from the doorway.

She turned and pulled him into a hug. “I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered.

Panic surged in his chest. He broke free and ran from room to room. “Mom! Dad!” he screamed, searching the house until his voice cracked.

“Scott, please stop,” his grandmother cried, finally catching up with him.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

Her eyes filled with tears. “Your parents were in an accident on their way home. They… didn’t make it.”

Scott’s knees gave out as she hugged him tightly, both of them crying.

The days that followed blurred together—the funeral, the endless condolences, the talk of business. And then came the expectations. Training. Responsibility. The heir to the Henderson empire had to grow up fast.

He threw himself into work and studied until his health broke. During his recovery, one unexpected visitor changed everything.

Her name was Lily.

He remembered how she looked that day—long blonde hair, warm brown eyes, and the kind of smile that could light up a room.

“Hi, Scott,” she’d said, waving shyly. “I came to return your textbook.”

He was stunned. Lily was the girl everyone liked, but she rarely noticed him, or so he thought.

“Come upstairs,” he’d said, leading her to the smaller sitting room—cream walls, leather cushions, paintings his mother once adored.

They talked for hours. She told him about school, about the lessons he’d missed. She was kind, gentle, and easy to talk to.

They became close after that. Years later, fate reunited them at the airport. They picked up right where they’d left off, and before long, she became the love of his life.

He had planned to propose.

That night, they’d driven to an event together. He’d stopped on a bridge, heart racing, ring in his pocket. He stepped out to take a breath—to steady his nerves—and in a blink, everything shattered.

A truck lost control, slamming into their car. The impact flipped it over the railing and into the water below.

Scott’s scream still echoed in his mind. He tried to reach her—but before he could dive, the car exploded.

Back to the Present

Scott clenched his jaw, forcing the memories away. A sharp pain twisted in his chest. He opened his desk drawer, took out a small bottle of pills, and swallowed one dry. The panic would pass soon—it always did.

He straightened his tie, sat back at his desk, and buried himself in work until evening.

At exactly 6:45 p.m., Scott pulled up in front of Susan’s building. She hurried out after giving a few last instructions to the babysitter.

The drive to the bakery took about twenty minutes. The shop was quaint but modern, with warm lights glowing through the glass.

As they parked, Susan’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen—Mary.

“Please, sir, hold on. It’s her,” she said, answering and putting it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“I’m engaged!” Mary squealed excitedly on the other end. “Nathan proposed! I’m getting married!”

Susan froze. She turned slowly to Scott. They stared at each other in stunned silence.