When He Chose His Young Secretary, She Moved On Without Loving Him

What Claudette had once seen as a "poor soul" now revealed itself as a predator, a wolf lurking quietly in the shadows.

Her eyes lingered on the photo in her hand as disbelief crept over her. If she hadn’t accidentally discovered Keiran’s second phone and seen a message from someone named “Beloved,” she might never have known the truth.

A bitter chuckle escaped her, the irony sharp. Seven years of her youth were given to Keiran, yet never once had he considered her his “beloved.”

With a sigh, she shook her head, pulling herself back from the edge of these painful thoughts.

She gathered every photograph they had shared, carefully placing them in a box. It was time to let go, everything that belonged to her had to be cleared out. She was leaving, and she wanted to do so without leaving a trace.

At the office, Claudette handed over her responsibilities, her voice steady as she gave instructions to transfer the funds to her designated account.

“President, are you really leaving us?”

Claudette replied, “Don’t worry. The contract’s clear: if you don’t make any mistakes and don’t leave of your own accord, you’ll be fine. You’ll keep your job.”

Claudette left everything behind, even the gifts Keiran had once given her. Her assistant looked at her, confused. She had always held onto those things as if they were treasures. “Just throw them out. People change. What’s the point of holding onto the past?”

The assistant gave a slight nod, understanding without further question, and said nothing more.

When Claudette finally arrived home, she found Keiran sitting there, smoking. The ashtray was heaping, an unspoken sign of how long he had been stewing in his own frustration. “Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls? Why didn’t you respond to my messages?”

Claudette lied, her voice slipping into a cool, practiced tone. “Sorry, I got caught up with things and missed your calls. Was there something urgent?”

Keiran sensed the shift in her demeanor, a subtle change that tugged at him, though he couldn’t pinpoint what was off. Claudette had never spoken to him with such a cold, distant edge before. “I was worried sick about you! Don’t just vanish like that again. You’re driving me insane.”

He moved to kiss her, but she instinctively pulled back. “Is it because I smell like smoke, Claude?”

In the past, whenever Keiran lit up, Claudette would always be quick to put out the cigarette, her voice laced with concern as she reminded him of its toll on his health.

But today, she only frowned, a fleeting, almost imperceptible gesture, and made no mention of his smoking. She didn’t mention the smoke at all, and the subtle distance in her demeanor unsettled him. “I’m sorry. I won’t smoke again. I was just... worried about you.”

Claudette’s lips curved into a faint, almost unreadable smile. “It’s fine. I was just lost in thought.”

“I’m going to take a shower."

That night, for the first time, Keiran didn’t reach for his second phone. Instead, he held Claudette tightly in his arms, his body trembling as if trying to find solace in her presence after the coldness she had shown him earlier.

If she hadn’t discovered his messages with another woman, she might have believed the warmth in his embrace, might have convinced herself that he truly loved her.

But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he never did. Perhaps it had all been a fantasy, an illusion woven from her own hopes.

Keiran pressed her beneath him, his movements frantic, as though he needed to reclaim something, anything, from their bond. But Claudette pulled away, avoiding his touch, her voice soft but firm. “My period... I’m not feeling well.”

Keiran didn’t say a word, merely pulling her into his embrace, his hand resting lightly on her stomach. Claudette’s tears fell quietly, a river of sorrow she could no longer contain.

Once, he had been her constant caretaker, watching over her with gentle care during her cycle, his every thought consumed with ensuring she was comfortable. But now, his touch felt distant, his concern replaced with something colder, something she couldn’t quite name.