His Secretary Took Everything,Until I Took My Life Back

It was Valentine's Day, and Sean Morton and I were tangled together on the bed, the heat between us still building.

That was when his personal secretary, Bernice Summers, pushed the door open and walked right in, her tone purely professional.

“Mr. Morton, intercourse duration has reached thirty-two minutes and ten seconds, exceeding the scheduled thirty-minute window. Please stop immediately.”

Sean pulled out and climbed off me without hesitation, his desire clearly unfinished.

He glanced down at me lying there like a wrung-out rag, his voice apologetic. “Babe, Bernice has a doctorate in management from a top university overseas. Every plan she makes is for my benefit. You love me, so you understand, right?”

I didn't cry. I didn't make a scene. I just nodded.

He smiled and stroked my colorless cheek. “Good girl. Why don't you step out? Bernice and I need to work overtime.”

The door closed. Within seconds, sounds drifted out of the room, rising louder and louder, unmistakable.

I dug my nails into my palms, forcing down the nausea climbing my throat.

Then my phone buzzed with a text. “Ms. Thomas, a donor heart matching your mother has been located. Surgery can proceed at any time. The cost is $500,000. Please arrange payment as soon as possible.”

My hands were shaking as I wiped the tears streaming down my face.

This marriage, rotten all the way to its roots,

could finally end.

——

Two hours later, the master bedroom door opened.

Bernice walked out wearing Sean's dress shirt.

The collar hung wide open, baring skin covered in marks.

She swept a glance over me, her manicured nails tapping rapidly across her phone screen.

Then she shoved a number in my face.

“Mrs. Morton, because you kept Mr. Morton past his scheduled time by two minutes and ten seconds, a penalty applies. Based on Mr. Morton's hourly rate, that's ten thousand dollars per minute. Please transfer $21,600. The rounded-off change can be considered Mr. Morton's Valentine's Day gift to you.”

“Would you like to transfer now, or have it deducted from next month's allowance?”

I stood frozen.

Even after countless encounters with this level of absurdity, my chest still tightened beyond my control.

Three years ago, Bernice had been hired into Sean's company and given total authority over his personal life and finances.

She talked endlessly about gender equality and fairness in marriage.

Then, inside my own home, she put a price tag on every piece of clothing I wore, every piece of jewelry, every meal I ate.

She even scrutinized how long Sean and I spent in bed together and what positions we used.

Last month, she found a single strand of hair on Sean's shirt and docked me three thousand dollars.

Earlier this month, I wore a pair of earrings thirty seconds past the approved time at a banquet, and she docked me five thousand.

Today, because Sean had stayed in my bed two minutes and ten seconds too long, she wanted me to pay over twenty thousand.

I stared at the flush still lingering on her face, at the contempt written all over it.

And felt something break into bitter laughter inside me.

“You're so good with numbers, Secretary Summers. So tell me, how much does it cost when you and my husband spend two hours going at it in my master bedroom?”

Bernice's expression seized up. She turned to Sean, who had just stepped out, and her eyes instantly welled with tears.

“Mr. Morton, I gave up my personal time to work overtime and clean up the mess your wife left behind, and this is how she treats me.”

“I can't do this job anymore. I quit, effective immediately.”

Sean pulled her back into his arms at once. When he looked at me, irritation bled through his gaze. “Irene Thomas, I don't support you so you can drag me down. Bernice is top-tier talent. She's not someone a housewife who depends on me for every meal and every breath can compare to. Get over here and apologize.”

My throat clenched like someone had their hands around it.

Sean had forgotten who stood beside him when he had nothing, who drank until her stomach lining bled to land his first angel investor.

It was after his company went public and the dust settled that he took my hands, his eyes full of tenderness, and promised me,