He Used My Talent to Build His Empire

For three years, I was Ethan Vance's secret lover and exclusive ghostwriter.

By day, I was his most useless, decorative assistant, a target for ridicule; by night, I was the stand-in in his arms, desired and exploited, paving his way to the top with my talent.

He always said my words had a special spark, that I was indispensable to him.

Until his long-lost love, Serena Monroe, joined the company. He then shamelessly put her name on all my hard work, casually telling others, "She's just a ghostwriter. Once Serena gets the hang of things, she can be let go."

He thought I'd grovel like a dog for scraps.

But what he didn't know was that I stayed by his side not for him, but for the top-tier resources he controlled.

Now, my portfolio was glittering with success. Ethan Vance, I'm done being your stepping stone!

"Mr. Davis, this 'Starfall Project' proposal is an absolute stroke of genius! Especially that core concept of reverse marketing, it's simply brilliant! Whose masterpiece is this from your esteemed company?"

In the spacious, bright top-floor conference room, Mr. Davis, the client, showered us with praise, excitedly pounding the table.

I stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the room, my clicker tightly clutched in my hand. My palms were slick with cold sweat, but I forced myself to remain calm, my gaze instinctively drawn to the man seated at the head of the table C Ethan Vance.

He was my direct supervisor, and my secret boyfriend of three years.

This one-hundred-and-twenty-page proposal was the fruit of my grueling effort, having pulled seven all-nighters, researched thousands of competitor files, and even pushed myself to the point of stomach bleeding. Every single word, every chart, was steeped in my blood and sweat.

I was fully convinced that this time, Ethan would finally keep his promise and give me the credit I deserved in front of the client.

However, Ethan merely smiled, his handsome yet uncaring face beaming with triumph. His long fingers gently pointed to Serena Monroe, who sat beside him in a designer Chanel suit, her makeup meticulously applied.

"Mr. Davis, you have a keen eye. This is Serena Monroe, our newly appointed Creative Director. She's an Ivy League graduate with top honors, and she personally spearheaded this project."

Boom

Something exploded in my head. A ringing instantly drowned out everything around me.

Serena Monroe?

She'd only been with the company for less than three days! She hadn't even grasped our company's core business logic. All she did every day was sip afternoon tea and touch up her makeup in the office. She couldn't even format a PowerPoint presentation!

How dare she claim my hard work as her own?

I stared hard at Ethan, trying to find a flicker of guilt or a hint in his eyes. But there was nothing. He didn't even spare me a glance.

Serena demurely lowered her head, perfectly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice sickly sweet: "Mr. Davis, you flatter me. It was just a fleeting inspiration. Mostly, it's thanks to Ethan's excellent leadership; he gave me so much inspiration."

"Hahahaha! What a talented couple, a powerhouse duo indeed!" Mr. Davis burst into laughter, then changed the subject. "However, Ms. Monroe, I have a question regarding the third phase of implementation. How did you derive that emotional resonance conversion rate estimation model?"

The air in the conference room suddenly went silent for a second.

Serena's smile froze. She looked at Ethan for help, her eyes holding a look of pure, unadulterated cluelessness. How could she possibly know the derivation model? She didn't even know what that phrase meant!

Ethan's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Then, under the table, he gently kicked my foot.

He turned his head, glaring at me with extreme impatience, and in a low voice audible only to the three of us, he commanded, "Summer Reed, what are you spacing out for? Prompt her!"

My heart, at that moment, utterly froze.

Three years.

Like a ghost hidden from the light, I hid in his shadow, ghostwriting countless viral campaigns for him, helping him climb from a regular supervisor all the way to a branch VP position.

He always liked to hold me late at night, stroking my hair, saying, "Summer, your words have such a spark. Others only see my brilliance, but only I know you're my soul. Once I secure my position, I'll make sure you stand proudly in front of everyone."

I believed him.

Like a fool, for that vague and ethereal promise, I willingly endured the cold shoulders from everyone in the company, content to be a "decorative assistant" who only served tea and water.

But now, with his dream girl back, I didn't even qualify as a shadow. I had become a mere prompter, to be discarded at any moment.

I took a deep breath, forcing down the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. I walked behind Serena, bent down, and with extremely clear articulation, recited the complex derivation model word for word.

Serena repeated it, stammering, like a parrot mimicking a machine.

Mr. Davis, though still a bit confused, finally nodded in satisfaction and signed the contract worth tens of millions.

After the meeting, the crowd dispersed.

Ethan sat in his chair, loosening his tie, and casually tossed an envelope at my feet.

"Good job today, didn't mess up. Here's your bonus."

I glanced down at the thin envelope. It contained at most five thousand dollars.

The commission for this project was at least half a million.

I bent down to pick up the envelope, a self-mocking cold smile playing on my lips. "Thank you, Mr. Vance."

Ethan stood up, looking down at me condescendingly. "Summer, I know you feel wronged. But Serena just returned to the country and needs some impressive achievements to establish herself. You're just an associate degree holder. Even if your name was on it, the client wouldn't take you seriously. Be sensible, and there'll be plenty of benefits for you later."

"I understand," I replied submissively, my voice so calm it even scared myself.

"Good that you understand." Ethan patted my cheek, satisfied. "Go book a Michelin-starred restaurant for Serena. I'm celebrating her success tonight."

I turned and walked out of the conference room.

The moment I closed the door, I took out my phone and opened my banking app.

Looking at the transfer that had just arrived in my account, I couldn't help but smile.

That was the last bit of money I'd secretly earned from freelancing and stock trading over the years.

With those five thousand dollars, I had finally saved enough for my brother's last surgery and completely paid off the usurious loans our family owed.

Three years of shackles shattered into dust at that moment.

Ethan Vance, did you really think I loved you so much I'd lost myself?

You were wrong.

I initially got into your bed, becoming your secret lover, solely for the top-tier project resources you controlledresources I could quickly monetize.

Now, my portfolio was thick enough to open doors at any top company in the industry.

I owe you nothing.

Just you wait, Ethan Vance.

The next morning, I walked into Ethan's office as usual, carrying a warm black coffee.

He was leaning back in his chair, chatting and laughing with Serena. Seeing me enter, Serena immediately wiped the smile from her face and put on the air of a superior director.

"Assistant Reed, just put the coffee down," Serena said imperiously. "Oh, by the way, I heard you have an idea bank on your computer, filled with creative drafts from over the years? Could you copy it for me? I'm a bit short on inspiration lately."

I sneered inwardly.

That was my accumulated treasure trove of material from three years of day and night work, my core competitive advantage. She thinks she can just open her mouth and claim it?

"Director Monroe, those are just rough drafts, completely disorganized. I'm afraid they'd offend your eyes," I said, feigning apprehension, lowering my head.

"Why are you talking so much nonsense?" Ethan tapped the table impatiently. "Serena asked you to copy it, so copy it. It's your honor if your subpar stuff can give Serena some inspiration. Go quickly!"

"Yes, Mr. Vance."

I obediently retreated.

Back at my desk, I opened the folder named "Inspiration Bank" and transferred all core, valuable proposals to my encrypted cloud drive. Then, I downloaded hundreds of generic, free PowerPoint templates and clich ad copy from the internet, bundled them into a folder, named it "Core Creative Library," and sent it to Serena.

Trying to get something for nothing? Dream on.

That afternoon, while making tea in the pantry, I called my headhunter.

"Hello, Mark? It's Summer Reed. Yes, have you seen my portfolio? ...Okay, Starwing Media? No problem, I can interview anytime."

Starwing Media, the undisputed industry leader, and Ethan's company's biggest rival.

Hanging up the phone, I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders.

That evening was the company's celebration banquet.

The banquet hall buzzed with lights, laughter, and clinking glasses. Ethan, with Serena on his arm, moved among investors and major clients, elevating her to a pedestal.

As the nominal "chief assistant," I was relegated to the furthest table, crammed with a few interns.

"Hey, look at Summer Reed, she looks so pathetic. She followed Mr. Vance for three years and couldn't even get a title. Now that his official girlfriend is back, she's completely out of the picture."

"Right? An associate degree holder, really thought she could become a Cinderella story. She only had some looks, good enough to warm Mr. Vance's bed, that's all."

The colleagues' whispers stung like knives, but I just continued eating the food on my plate, expressionless.

What were a few cold words? Compared to what I was about to do, this was just a warm-up.

After a few rounds of drinks, a corpulent, greasy-faced Mr. Hayes, a key channel partner for the company and notoriously lecherous, swayed over with a drink in hand.

"Well, well, isn't this little Summer? Why are you hiding here drinking alone?" Mr. Hayes plopped down beside me, his greasy hand brazenly rested on my thigh, giving it a hard squeeze through the thin fabric.

My body froze, my stomach churning with nausea.

I shot up, backing away a couple of steps, and said coldly, "Mr. Hayes, you're drunk. Show some respect."

"Don't act so high and mighty!" Mr. Hayes, his pride wounded, grew angry. "Everyone knows you're Ethan Vance's cast-off! What, Ethan Vance gets to sleep with you, but I can't even touch you? Spend a night with me tonight, and I'll get you a big deal!"

The commotion drew everyone's attention.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, watching me like a show.

I looked at Ethan.

He stood not far away, glass in hand, his eyes as cold as if he were looking at a stranger. Not only did he not step in to stop it, but a smirk played on his lips, as if enjoying the spectacle.

At that moment, my last illusion about him shattered completely.

This was the man I had spent three years with. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a plaything to be used to appease clients.

Just then, Serena Monroe sauntered over, swaying her hips.

She daintily grabbed Mr. Hayes's arm, cooing, "Oh, Mr. Hayes, why bother with an ignorant assistant? Come, Serena will toast you. Consider it an apology on her behalf."

Mr. Hayes's attention immediately shifted to Serena, his eyes lecherously fixated on her cleavage. "Ms. Monroe is much more sensible. Fine, I'll give Mr. Vance some face!"

Serena turned, looking at me with a triumphant gaze, and falsely said, "Assistant Reed, aren't you going to thank Mr. Hayes for his generosity? In the future, in the workplace, keep your eyes open and don't always cause trouble."

I looked at the despicable pair and suddenly found it utterly comical.

Without a word, I picked up a glass of red wine from the table and, to everyone's stunned silence, splashed it directly onto Mr. Hayes's greasy face with a loud "splash"!

"Ah! You bitch!" Mr. Hayes shrieked, clutching his eyes and cursing.

The entire hall fell silent.

Ethan Vance's face turned ashen. He rushed over, raising his hand to slap me. "Summer Reed! Have you lost your mind?!"

I met his gaze without fear, and coldly uttered three words: "I was disgusted."

With that, I walked out of the banquet room without looking back, leaving the mess behind me entirely.

The next morning, I arrived at the company on time, wearing high heels and exquisite makeup.

I didn't report to Ethan's office. Instead, I went straight to my desk, took out a cardboard box, and began packing my things.

Just as I placed a few professional books into the box, Serena Monroe stormed over, absolutely furious.

"Summer Reed! What garbage did you send me yesterday! All those messed-up templates and nonsensical copythat's your 'creative library'?! You dared to mess with me!"

Her sharp voice shattered the quiet of the office, and everyone peeked out to watch the show.

I paused, slowly raised my head, looking at her with a half-smile. "Director Monroe, how can you call this messing with you? Aren't you an Ivy League graduate with top honors? True creativity comes from the mind; those basic materials are just a foundation for a genius like you. Or... can you not even understand these simple things and have to rely on copying my original drafts to get work done?"

"You!" Serena's face flushed crimson as I struck a nerve.

Her eyes suddenly darted around, and she spotted the black external hard drive on my desk, which I hadn't unplugged yet.

That was my personal hard drive, containing all my hard work from the past three years, including the preliminary outlines of several major, unreleased proposals.

She lunged at it like a madwoman, ripping out the hard drive, clutching it tightly in her hand, her face twisted in a sneer. "Fine! If you won't give it to me, I'll destroy it! I'll make sure you get nothing either!"

With that, she turned and ran towards the water dispenser, threatening to throw the hard drive into the boiling water.

"Serena Monroe! How dare you!"

I was utterly enraged. I charged forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked hard.

"Ah!" Serena let out a bloodcurdling scream. Her hand loosened, and the hard drive dropped onto the carpet.

I kicked the hard drive behind me and then delivered a resounding slap across her face.

"Smack!"

The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the office.

Serena clutched her face, looking at me in disbelief, tears instantly welling in her eyes.

"Summer Reed! What are you doing!"

A furious roar came from behind me. Ethan Vance strode over, charging forward, and roughly shoved me away.

His force was immense. I was completely unprepared and crashed heavily into the corner of a nearby desk. An excruciating pain shot through my lower back, and I groaned, falling to the floor.

Ethan didn't even glance at me. He lovingly embraced Serena, carefully checking the red mark on her face.

"Serena, are you okay? Does it hurt?"

Serena leaned into Ethan's chest, crying her heart out, tears streaming down her face, and pointed at me, accusing, "Ethan, I just wanted to borrow some files from Assistant Reed's hard drive to look at. Not only did she refuse, but she called me useless and even hit me... I'm so scared..."

Ethan suddenly turned his head, his eyes like knives, glaring at me. "Summer Reed! You've gone completely out of control! Serena is your superior; how dare you lay a hand on her? Apologize to Serena immediately! Otherwise, I'll have HR fire you right now!"

I leaned on the table corner, struggling to stand.

The pain in my lower back made me break into a cold sweat, but my spine was ramrod straight.

I looked at the man I had once loved, hated, and now only felt disgust for, and suddenly I laughed.

A laugh that was incredibly relieved, incredibly defiant.

"Fire me? Ethan Vance, you've got it wrong."

I walked to my desk, picked up the already packed cardboard box, and slammed the pre-printed resignation letter onto his face.

"It's me who's firing you."

Ethan was stunned by the resignation letter. Then, his face twisted into an expression of extreme contempt and mockery.

"Resign? Summer Reed, have you lost your mind? What do you think you are without me? A useless associate degree holder, what else can you do besides writing a few cringeworthy copies? Believe it or not, the moment you walk out that door, no company in this industry will dare hire you!"

"Within three days, you'll be crawling back on your knees, begging me to take you back!"

I looked at his arrogant and smug face and felt only sadness.

"Ethan Vance, remember what you said today. I hope our paths never cross again."

Clutching the cardboard box, I walked out of the company doors without looking back, ignoring all the shocked, scornful, and mocking gazes.

The sunlight outside was blinding, but I felt a warmth and freedom I had never experienced before.

Begging you in three days?

Sorry, but I already have an offer for Creative Director at Starwing Media.

Starwing Media, located in the core area of the city's most bustling Central Business District.

When I stepped into the top floor of the building, I was greeted by Starwing's CEO, Liam Kincaid.

He wore a impeccably tailored dark grey bespoke suit. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were deep and sharp, exuding the calm composure and intimidating presence of someone at the top. Unlike Ethan Vance's superficiality, built on stolen achievements, Liam Kincaid was a true industry titandecisive, with keen insight.

"Summer Reed?" He flipped through my portfolio, his long fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. "This 'Starfall Project'the industry credits Serena Monroe for it, but after reviewing the underlying logic and writing style, it's identical to the other cases in this portfolio. You wrote it, didn't you?"

My heart skipped a beat, then I nodded candidly. "Yes."

Liam Kincaid closed the folder, a hint of admiration playing on his lips. "Ethan Vance is truly a fool, treating a raw talent as a mere stepping stone. Welcome to Starwing, Director Reed. Here, we only value ability, not background."

"Thank you, Mr. Kincaid." I took a deep breath, feeling my blood stir with excitement.

Life at Starwing was incredibly busy but immensely fulfilling.

Without menial tasks and endless emotional manipulation, I could finally dedicate all my energy to the creative work I loved.

Liam Kincaid gave me immense authority and trust. Leading my new team, we brainstormed day and night, tearing things down and rebuilding, then tearing down and rebuilding again.

In just one month, the "Project Lumina" full-case marketing campaign I spearheaded became an overnight sensation. Not only did it secure Starwing its biggest S-tier client of the year, but it also shattered industry conversion rate records.

My name, "Summer Reed," appeared prominently on the front pages of major industry media for the first time.

No longer someone's assistant, no longer someone's shadow, I was Starwing Media's Star Creative Director!

Meanwhile, Ethan Vance's life was going downhill.

Without me, his ghostwriter, the quality of his company's creative output plummeted. Serena Monroe, that incompetent woman, couldn't hold up the facade at all. Her cobbled-together proposals were torn apart by clients.

I heard that in just two months, Ethan had lost three major clients. His company's performance was cut in half, and the board of directors put immense pressure on him.

He finally panicked.

He started frantically calling and SnapChatting me.

"Summer, have you thrown enough of a tantrum? Come back, your position is still waiting for you."

"Summer, Serena really is incompetent, I admit I was wrong. As long as you come back, I'll promote you to Associate Director immediately!"

"Summer Reed! Don't push your luck! Do you think Starwing really values you? They're just using you to get at me!"

Looking at those messages on my screen, which ranged from patronizing offers to desperate fury, I found it utterly ridiculous.

I immediately blocked his number and turned my attention to preparing for the next, even bigger project.