His Surrogate Secretary

"You're three minutes late, Miss Santos. And what is this? Wasn't I clear that I wanted brewed coffee from an Italian roast, not a medium blend? On top of that, the temperature is already cold. Do you think I came in today just to drink floodwater?" I wanted to laugh, but seeing how furious his expression was, I simply took a deep breath before adjusting my eyeglasses. I was standing in front of the massive glass executive desk belonging to Alexander Mercer. He was the CEO of Mercer Holdings—possessing the most handsome face I had ever seen in my life, but with the personality of a complete villain. Tall, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark grey suit, and possessing grey eyes that always seemed ready to kill someone with just a glare. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Mercer. The elevator on the first floor broke down, so I tried taking the stairs—" "I don't need your excuses," he cut me off coldly, without even looking up from the financial report he was holding. "What I need are results. If you can't value your job, just say so. There are plenty of people lined up outside who would happily take your place as my executive secretary." Brilliant. Every single day. For the past two years, this has been my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Every move I made was wrong in his eyes: the way I scheduled appointments, the way I prepared meeting materials, even the way I breathed inside his office seemed to annoy him. So why was I enduring it? Because I needed the money. I was supporting my younger sibling's education and paying the monthly installments for the small apartment my boyfriend, Mark, and I dreamed of living in. "I understand, Mr. Mercer. I'll replace your coffee right away," I replied calmly yet earnestly. "Don't bother. I've lost my appetite," he threw the folder onto the desk, creating a loud thud. "Prepare the boardroom for the 10:00 AM meeting with the board members. And make sure the printed presentation slides are arranged properly. If I see even a single typographical error on them, Miss Santos, don't bother coming to work tomorrow." "Understood, Mr. Mercer." I bowed out of respect and quickly turned away. Once outside his office, I leaned back against the closed door and shut my eyes, clutching my waist. My body and mind were thoroughly exhausted. But I thought of Mark. Today was his 28th birthday, and I had been preparing for this day for months. I had saved up to buy him the expensive watch he had been dreaming of for a long time, and I even woke up at four in the morning to bake his favorite chocolate cake. Just a little more patience, I encouraged myself. Tonight, in Mark's presence, I would be able to forget this living hell. I returned to my desk and immersed myself in work. From morning until afternoon, I did nothing but run around, handle calls, and endure every insult and harsh remark from Alexander. When six in the evening arrived, I quickly packed up my things. Alexander had stepped into his private restroom inside the office, so I seized the opportunity to leave a bit early. I retrieved the insulated cake box and the gift bag from under my desk. Stepping out of the building brought a sudden sense of relief. I took a taxi to Mark's apartment. He grew up alongside my best friend, Chloe, and the three of us were often together. That was why I couldn't help but smile during the ride, confident that Mark would love my surprise. Chloe had mentioned earlier that she was a bit busy and would just catch up later at the celebration. Arriving at Mark's apartment complex, I used the duplicate key he had given me last year. I carefully turned the doorknob to avoid making any noise. "Happy birthday . . ." I whispered to myself as I gently opened the door. The lights in the living room were off. I assumed he wasn't home yet, but then I heard faint noises coming from his bedroom. My first thought was that he was watching TV, but as I drew closer to the slightly ajar bedroom door, I heard moaning. A woman's voice. And a man's voice. My feet froze on the concrete floor. My entire body went numb. I almost dropped the cake box in my right hand. "Ah... Mark . . . slower . . ." It was Chloe's voice. My best friend. The woman I considered a sister, the companion who cried with me when my mother passed away, and the person I trusted with all my secrets. I brought my face closer to the c***k in the door. There, under the dim light of the bedside lamp, I saw my boyfriend. The man I had devoted five years of my life to—on top of Chloe. Neither of them had any clothes on. "Hmm . . . you're so much better than Maya, Chloe . . ." Mark kissed Chloe's neck. "That girl is always tired. She never has time for me; she always puts work first." "Shh . . . she might hear you if she comes over," Chloe giggled, holding onto Mark's back. "Don't worry about her. She's busy with her grumpy boss. Just leave her be." It felt as though a massive boulder had slammed into my chest. I couldn't breathe. The pain wasn't just ordinary pain; it felt like a knife being repeatedly plunged into my heart. The people I had trusted for my entire life were laughing and making a joke out of my suffering. I didn't scream. I didn't confront them. I lacked the strength to create a scene. Slowly, I bent down and placed the cake box and the expensive gift bag right in front of their bedroom door. Then, I quietly turned around and left the apartment. The moment I stepped outside the building, my tears finally broke free. I walked along the curb as a light drizzle fell, crying silently. All the fatigue from work, all of Alexander's insults, and the ultimate betrayal by the two most important people in my life. It all exploded inside my chest at once. As I walked mindlessly, my phone suddenly rang. When I looked at the screen, an unknown landline number appeared. I didn't want to answer it, but it kept ringing. I wiped away my tears and answered the call. "Hello?" my voice sounded raspy. "Is this Miss Maya Santos?" asked a formal female voice at the other end of the line. "Speaking. Who is this?" "Good evening, Miss Santos. I'm calling from St. Jude Medical and Fertility Center. We have an emergency situation regarding the medical records and consultation you completed last month that needs immediate clarification. Please come to the clinic right away." I frowned. St. Jude? I recalled going there last month for a routine gynecological check-up and an ultrasound because of my persistent dysmenorrhea. But why was a fertility center calling? "Why? Is there a problem with my Pap smear or ultrasound results?" I asked, feeling anxious. "It's not just a matter of medical results, Miss Santos. A critical administrative and clinical discrepancy was discovered just tonight. Please proceed to the Special Concerns Unit on the 4th floor immediately. This is a very serious matter."