When His Assistant Tried to Steal My Empire, I Took Everything

Justin's new secretary drove him home late at night.

"Hey, Genevieve, Justin had too much to drink while trying to protect me from the wine. Would you mind taking care of him for me?"

She wore Justin's tailored suit jacket over her shoulders, her defiant gaze clear and unwavering.

Justin leaned against her, slightly tipsy, a faint lipstick stain visible on his white shirt.

Suddenly, it hit me.

I had taught Justin how to climb to the top.

I never taught him how to fall gracefully.

---

I woke up in the middle of the night to find Justin still hadn’t come home.

This was unexpected; my eyes slowly opened, emerging from the fog of sleep.

In three years of marriage, this had never happened before.

I picked up my phone to call him. The line kept ringing until it automatically hung up—no answer.

I called the driver, Mathias, who informed me that Justin had sent him home around 6 PM. Justin had a work engagement and drove himself.

Unable to sleep, I threw on a robe and went downstairs to the living room to go over the company's quarterly financial report.

As the clock approached 2 AM, I heard noises at the front door.

A soft, sweet voice reached my ears.

"Mr. Hawkins, easy there; you're nearly crushing me."

I turned to see two figures wrapped around each other.

Justin, clearly drunk, leaning heavily on the shoulders of a young woman.

Her cheeks were flushed, fresh and delicate like a ripe berry.

Upon seeing me, the young woman quickly straightened up, yet her hand remained on Justin's waist.

"Hello, Genevieve. I'm Justin's new secretary, Makenna.

He took me out for a work dinner tonight. He drank too much for my sake. Could you please ensure he's alright?"

"Genevieve, you might not know, but when Justin drinks too much, he holds on to me and gets a bit irritable. Please, be understanding and don't hold it against him."

With arms crossed, I scrutinized her.

Barely in her twenties with an innocent face, yet her eyes revealed unapologetic ambition.

Justin's tailored suit jacket was draped over her shoulders, failing to hide the cheap, ill-fitting white dress beneath.

Her gaze toward me was insolent, clear, unafraid, and foolish.

I almost wanted to laugh.

I turned to look at Justin, noting the lipstick mark on his shirt—the same shade as Makenna's lipstick.

My expression hardened as I called out coldly:

"Justin."