When the CEO’s Golden Secretary Walked Away

Everyone in my graduating class knows that back in high school, I ruthlessly dumped the heir to the Croft corporate empire, Daran Croft, all for a fat paycheck.

Now, they all think I am his pathetic lapdog, clinging to him as his personal secretary.

What none of them know is that I am actually a corporate proxy, handpicked by Daran's parents to babysit their deadbeat son.

We signed a contract in secret. It was a transaction with a very clear price tag.

Daran, however, firmly believes I am desperately in love with him.

And now, that contract is exactly one month away from expiring.

I was a scholarship student funded by the Croft Foundation. I was also the brightest kid they had ever sponsored.

Seven years ago, during my senior year, I was at the absolute top of my class.

Then my mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness, requiring a massive amount of money for medical bills. To make matters worse, my father vanished into thin air, taking every last cent of our family savings with him.

That was when a woman dripping in diamonds and old money condescension appeared in my life.

I knew exactly who she was. She was the mother of my then boyfriend, Daran.

She slid a sleek black bank card across the table, followed by a thick legal contract.

"Three million dollars."

The matriarch's tone was dripping with arrogance.

"Get accepted into an Ivy League business program. After you graduate, you will work for the Croft family for three years, entirely off the books."

"And while we are on the subject, I expect you to be smart about this little high school romance you have going on with my son."

I took the deal.

I went straight back to school and broke Daran's heart.

After graduation, his grades were so atrocious that his parents shipped him off to Europe to hide the embarrassment.

I, on the other hand, followed the contract to the letter and secured my Ivy League degree.

This month marks the final thirty days of that binding agreement.

The air in the CEO's office was thick with the suffocating stench of cigar smoke.

I wrinkled my nose in discomfort, keeping my eyes fixed on the man slouching in the leather executive chair.

A redhead with miles of bare legs was perched comfortably on Daran's lap.

Her perfectly manicured, cherry red nails lightly traced the jawline of his handsome face.

The two of them were lost in their own little world, giggling and flirting, treating me like a piece of furniture.

I knew my place. I stood quietly to the side, my face an unreadable mask.

"Come on, babe! I really want to be the leading lady in that new movie!"

Behind the mahogany desk, the man smirked. He threw a fleeting, provocative glance in my direction.

"Done. It is just a movie, right? If my Tiffany wants the part, it is hers."

I recognized the girl immediately. She was Tiffany, the latest flavor of the month tearing up the Hollywood gossip blogs.

My expression remained utterly placid. I had grown entirely numb to these little theatrical displays of debauchery.

Ever since I became Daran's secretary three years ago, there had been a revolving door of supermodels and starlets.

He had been a terrible student in high school, and he had learned absolutely nothing during his luxurious exile in Europe.

On paper, this entertainment subsidiary was a sandbox for the young heir to learn the ropes of business. In reality, every single operational decision from the top down was executed by me.

And the movie Tiffany was whining about happened to be the company's most critical investment for the third quarter.

"Mr. Croft, Director Dawson's contract strictly prohibits investors from swapping out the cast at the last minute."

I felt a familiar migraine throbbing at my temples.

The cast was already locked in. The entire production crew was scheduled to begin principal photography next week.

Demanding a new female lead at the eleventh hour was classic Daran, reckless and incredibly stupid.

Daran exhaled a cloud of toxic smoke, his arm tightening around the actress's waist.

"I am the one writing the checks. I can swap out whoever I want."

His eyes locked onto mine, cold and challenging. "If Dawson has a problem with it, tell him to pack his bags."

"And if you have a problem with it, you can pack yours too."

A dry laugh almost escaped my throat.

Did he honestly think I wanted to stay in this gilded cage?

If it were not for the remaining thirty days on my contract, I would have walked out that door and never looked back.

"Understood, Mr. Croft. I will contact the production team immediately."

It was his money to burn. Why should I care if he tanked his own third quarter revenue?

Tiffany giggled, planting a messy kiss on Daran's cheek. "You are the best, babe!"

Daran kept his gaze glued to me, a mocking sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I maintained my absolute indifference. In my head, I casually tallied up the number of women he had cycled through in the past ninety days.

I also wondered how many of them would throw a tantrum post breakup, forcing me to work overtime to manage their hush money.

I had barely stepped out of the corporate lobby when a voice called out from behind.

"Hey, Secretary!"

Tiffany strutted up to me, her designer stilettos clicking sharply against the pavement.

"Word around the industry is that you and Daran used to date back in high school."

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

It was hardly a state secret anymore. It did not surprise me that she had done her digging.

"How can I help you, Tiffany?"

She inspected her fresh manicure, her eyes heavy with manufactured pity.

"I will write you a check for five hundred thousand dollars right now. Quit your job tomorrow and stay away from my man."

I stared at her, genuinely struggling to figure out what facial expression to use.

"You dumped him for cash back then, right? Taking a payout to disappear now is the exact same thing."

She offered a venomous smile. "Do not tell me you actually think playing the devoted secretary is going to make him fall back in love with you?"

"Daran despises disloyalty. Whatever twisted fantasy you are holding onto, it is a waste of time."

Great. Another clueless groupie who had heard two sentences of a rumor and decided to play the conquering queen.

I gave her a radiant, polite smile. "I think you are deeply confused about a few things, Tiffany."

"Instead of wasting your breath trying to intimidate me, you should probably focus on keeping Daran entertained."

"I really hope I do not have to process your severance package as his fifth ex girlfriend this year."

The smugness melted off Tiffany's face, replaced by pure, unfiltered rage.

I offered her one last polite nod before turning on my heel and walking away.

Barely an hour later, my phone buzzed with a text from Daran.

"My parents want you at the estate for dinner tonight."

Even through the screen, his absolute disdain was palpable.

But frankly, I was far more annoyed than he was.

Originally, I thought my debt to the Croft family simply meant managing their assets.

It was only when they reassigned me to be Daran's shadow three years ago that I realized the true scope of my "employment."

Not only did I have to run a multi million dollar company in place of a useless heir, but I also had to manage every microscopic detail of his personal life.

The Croft family essentially treated me like a glorified, highly educated nanny.

"Renee, didn't I tell you to have Daran's custom Italian suits tailored for the new season?"

At the sprawling dining table, Eleanor Croft picked at her Michelin starred salad with a look of severe disappointment.

"Why hasn't that been handled?"

"And another thing. I noticed Daran has dark circles under his eyes. Have you not been keeping track of his schedule?"

"I specifically instructed you to keep him out of the nightclubs during the work week."

I forced a tight, professional smile and offered a practiced apology.

All the while, I could feel Daran glaring at me from across the table, his eyes burning with resentment.

"Furthermore..."

"Mom! Enough!" Daran slammed his silver fork onto the porcelain plate.

"Who does she think she is? Why is she managing my life?"

"Because if I do not have someone watching you, you will ruin yourself!"

Eleanor's eyes welled with sudden, dramatic tears. "Do you think I forgot the stunts you pulled in Europe?"

"Drinking until your stomach hemorrhaged. Passing out on public streets."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous the world is for a boy with your last name?"

Daran scowled. Unwilling to entertain the argument, he pushed his chair back violently and stormed out of the dining room.

I was left sitting there in agonizing silence.

After a long moment, Eleanor rubbed her temples and looked at me.

"If I had known how he would turn out, I never would have forced you two apart."

She let out a heavy sigh. "At least back then, he actually listened to you."

Her words dragged my mind back to the sunlit classrooms of high school.

It was true. Back then, even though Daran was a terrible student, he was honest, fiercely loyal, and kind.

I would spend hours cramming for AP exams, and he would just rest his chin on his desk, quietly watching me work.

He was almost sweet.

But the man he had become was unrecognizable.

He was volatile, aggressive, and drowning in his own toxicity.

Faced with Eleanor's sorrowful expression, I chose to stay silent.

"Renee," Eleanor began hesitantly. "Is Daran... is he still acting the same way lately?"

I knew exactly what she was asking. She wanted to know who he was sleeping with.

I kept my tone strictly professional. "Recently, he has been spending a lot of time with a new actress from the studio."

Eleanor shook her head in utter disgust.

"A cheap starlet. That will never do for our family image."

"He is so reckless. If he marries some empty headed trophy wife, what will happen to the Croft legacy?"

I nodded in polite agreement, while secretly counting the petals on the ridiculously expensive floral centerpiece.

The future of the Croft legacy had absolutely nothing to do with me.

"You are the only one who understands him."

Eleanor suddenly reached across the table and patted my hand, sending a shiver of pure dread down my spine.

"Do not worry, Renee. I know my own son. He can play around all he wants, but deep down, you are the only one he truly cares about."

I found the statement utterly absurd.

Daran still cared about me?

Impossible. Nobody treats someone they care about with such calculated cruelty.

And even if he did, it was years too late. It did not matter anymore.

After dinner, I grabbed my coat to leave, but Daran blocked the grand entryway.

His face was twisted in a mocking sneer. "I suggest you stop wasting your energy, Renee."

"Do you really think kissing up to my mother is going to get you anywhere?"

"Do you think I am still that pathetic teenager who believed every lie that fell out of your mouth?"

He pulled out a silver lighter and sparked a cigarette.

"When you took that buyout and dumped me, I was actually stupid enough to think you had some tragic, secret reason."

His jaw clenched, and his eyes turned to ice.

"Nothing you do now is going to change a thing."

Looking at the absolute hatred in his eyes, I felt nothing but a hollow sense of tragedy.

He claimed to love me back then, yet when my family was falling apart, he did not notice a thing.

When my mother was dying, I showed up to school every day looking like a ghost. Daran never once bothered to read the room.

He just kept chattering away about his video games, his trust fund toys, and his weekend parties.

He was completely blind to the fact that I was suffocating.

Our high school was packed with elite, privileged kids who already despised me for being poor.

After the breakup, it only took a few vicious rumors from his friends to completely shatter his so called unwavering trust in me.

Even now, if he spent ten minutes looking into my past, he would easily uncover the truth about my mother.

But honestly, even without his mother's interference, we never would have lasted.

Daran was a spoiled child. He lived in a bubble.

He had no concept of struggle, of consequence, or of duty.

I had been fighting for survival my entire life, carrying the crushing weight of a broken family on my shoulders.

I never had the luxury of slowing down.

Our paths were destined to diverge from the very beginning.

I let out a quiet sigh. "I am not doing this with you tonight, Daran."

My apathy only fueled his rage. He let out a harsh bark of laughter.

"I am an idiot for thinking a gold digger like you could ever feel guilt."

"You haven't changed a bit."

I did not have the energy to argue. I walked past him and left the estate without looking back.

Later that night, I had just collapsed onto my bed, utterly exhausted, when my phone started screaming.

It was Daran.

I answered the call, and my ear was immediately assaulted by the heavy, thumping bass of club music.

"Did she answer? Did she actually answer?"

I could hear rowdy voices in the background.

"No way! She picked up!"

"It is one in the morning, and the loyal dog is still on call."

My eyelids were heavy as lead, but I forced myself to sit up.

"What do you need, Mr. Croft?"

Daran's voice drifted through the speaker, chillingly calm.

"Be here in fifteen minutes."

I pulled the phone away and checked the screen. He had dropped a location pin. It was his favorite VIP nightclub downtown.

"Understood."

I did not bother fighting it.

This was just another one of his petty little games.

I had tried to fight back in the early days, but the contract always forced my hand. Compliance was just faster.

The moment I stepped into the VIP lounge, the strobe lights felt like ice picks in my retinas.

I had been awake since six in the morning. I had not rested for a single second.

And now I had to deal with this nightmare.

But as my eyes adjusted to the neon glare, my blood ran cold.

"Well, well, look who showed up!"

"Daran, you are an absolute legend." A guy in a designer jacket gave Daran a high five.

I recognized him instantly. He was the frat boy who had spearheaded the bullying campaign against me right after the breakup.

He had spent his entire life acting as Daran's loyal foot soldier, desperate for a crumb of the Croft family influence.

When Daran and I were dating, he used to follow me around calling me "Queen B."

The second we split, he appointed himself Daran's avenger and made my senior year a living hell.

I looked around the plush booth. I recognized almost all of them. It was a reunion of my high school nightmares.

A group of girls huddled in the corner, pointing at me and snickering.

"Remember how high and mighty she used to act? Now she is literally fetching his drinks."

"I guess the valedictorian crown doesn't mean much in the real world."

"Everyone knows she sold him out for a quick buck. Look at her now, still clinging to the money. Once a rat, always a rat."

I tuned out the toxic white noise and walked straight up to Daran.

"You called for me, Mr. Croft?"

I stared down at him. He was lounging in the corner booth, a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips.

He smirked, a cruel glint in his eye. "You really are a master of endurance, aren't you?"

I kept my voice perfectly flat. "You are my employer. I am doing my job."

The amusement vanished from his face.

"Right. Just a job."

He snapped his fingers, and a waitress immediately crowded the table with bottles of high proof liquor.

"I was just telling the guys how much your alcohol tolerance has improved over the years."

"They did not believe me. Go ahead, Secretary. Show them I am not a liar."

The entire booth erupted into cruel cheers.

"Yeah, right! She used to pass out after one cider."

"Let's see what the working girl can handle now!"

I looked into Daran's eyes. He was enjoying this. He wanted to break me.

I was genetically predisposed to being a lightweight. My tolerance had never improved.

But I didn't argue. I walked straight to the glass table, picked up a tumbler of amber liquid, and threw it to the back of my throat.

The burn was immediate. My brain felt fuzzy before I even set the glass down.

I shook my head, refusing to look at the laughing faces around me.

I picked up the second glass.

Swallow by swallow, the glasses emptied.

And with every drop, the suppressed memories clawed their way to the surface.

The awe in his eyes when we first met. The quiet moments in the library. The crushing disappointment of our final argument.

They bubbled up like foam on the edge of the glass, only to pop and vanish into nothing.

Now, all that was left was this bitter stranger and an audience of vultures.

I lost count of how many drinks I took. The neon lights began to smear into blinding streaks of color.

"That is enough!"

I heard Daran bark the order from somewhere far away.

I slammed the empty glass onto the table. Using every ounce of willpower I had left, I forced a polite smile.

"Are you satisfied, Mr. Croft?"

My stomach churned violently. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself.

"I need to use the restroom."

I stumbled to the bathroom, splashed freezing water on my face, and bypassed the lounge entirely, slipping out the back exit into the freezing night air.

I knew I had minutes, maybe seconds, before I blacked out entirely. My hands shook violently as I fumbled for my phone, desperately trying to call a cab.

But the moment I pulled the phone from my pocket, the pavement tilted at a violent angle.

The world spun out of control.

Through the blur, I saw a flash of a crisp white shirt.

Strong arms caught me before I hit the concrete.