Beneath the Same Old Moon

His Secret Under the Pillow

It was already 3 a.m. by the time I got myself out of the Graf Residence. I had no desire to go home, so I wandered into a bar and drowned myself in alcohol. When the liquor finally hit me, my mind drifted to Elliot.

The day he interviewed for the job happened to be my mother's death anniversary. Chloe had called it bad luck and tossed every photo of my mother into the pool. There were so many servants in that house, yet not one of them dared to help me.

Only Elliot had rolled up his sleeves, stepped straight into the water, and picked out the photos one by one.

My heart had skipped a beat at that very moment. But it wasn't until the day before that I learned it had all been staged. He hadn't gone into the water because he pitied me.

No, he did it to grab Chloe's attention.

It was Chloe's birthday the day before. My father had been determined to host a grand celebration for her, so he specifically ordered me not to come home. He was terrified that my presence would spoil her mood.

Elliot had taken leave early as well, claiming he had something important to handle.

That night, I had ended up in a bar just like this as I wasted away in a pool of alcohol-infused misery. On my way home, I accidentally walked into Elliot's room. Beneath his pillow, I found a camcorder containing several videos of him touching himself.

In the footage, the man who had always been composed and rational around me was aroused by nothing but a tiny scrap of lingerie. As he climaxed, I heard him say, "Chloe… I love you… I really love you…"

At the end of the video, a phone call between him and the butler played.

"Mr. Zeller, how long are you planning to keep up this assistant game? Your parents have urged you countless times to return home and inherit the family business. If you keep stalling, your father will truly lose his temper.

"And you're the golden boy of Rivergate. Women throw themselves at you. You can have any woman you want. Why obsess over the adopted daughter of a wannabe upper-class family?

"You're even going as far as creating an alias to work as her sister's assistant, just to get close to her. What exactly are you after?"

Elliot had taken off his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes heavy with lust yet soft with affection. "I can't help it. Chloe's very unguarded. I don't want to scare her."

"And Natalie Graf? Mr. Zeller, do you feel nothing for her?"

Elliot had frowned, disgust flashing across his face. "I do. She makes me sick."

When the video ended, I clutched my stomach and collapsed on the bathroom floor. I retched until my world spun before my eyes. My chest hurt so badly it felt like my heart was tearing apart. I forced myself upright and opened my eighth bottle of the night.

A sudden commotion jerked me out of my thoughts.

I turned my head and saw Elliot standing right there. He wore the standard black uniform. There wasn't even a hint of a wrinkle on him as even the top button of his white shirt was fastened perfectly.

"Ms. Graf, it's time to go home."

I drunkenly pushed myself up, swaying dangerously. Naturally, I accidentally missed a step and fell straight into his arms. Elliot immediately stepped back, expression tight. He looked as though he was terrified of having the slightest physical contact with me.

"Ow…" I hit the ground hard, scraping my knee.

He remained indifferent to my plight. He helped me up with his pristine white gloves, then tossed me onto the sofa without hesitation before hurrying toward the bathroom.

I knew exactly what he was doing. He was going to sanitize himself again.

In the five years he had followed me, he had gone through more than a thousand bottles of rubbing alcohol. When he touched my hand? Disinfect. When he entered my room? Disinfect.

It was even worse when he used his hand on me in bed because he would practically flee just to scrub his entire skin off afterward.

If I hadn't seen him touching himself to Chloe's photo that day, I honestly would have believed he had some kind of compulsive disorder.

There was a mocking twist to my lips. Yet, even that slight twist of my lips nearly made me sob.

…

Half an hour had passed by the time Elliot finally left the bathroom. His gloves were gone, and he reeked of disinfectant.