Love on Borrowed Time

One day, one of my company's partners stopped me.

"Bring the design drafts later. We're going to the client's office to sign the contract. I hear the client is none other than Mr. Curtis' rumored lover."

I nodded in a daze.

Although they were my partners, none of them knew that Max and I were acquainted, much less that I was secretly married to him.

The client's office was located right downstairs from Max's company.

I knew this was the new company Sandra had founded after returning home. It was backed by an investment from Curtis Group.

Lately, financial news had been hyping up the old love story between the two of them.

When we entered the CEO's office, Max was there. No surprises.

He was holding an exquisitely wrapped box and handing it to the woman seated in the CEO's chair, Sandra.

The moment Max saw me, his expression froze.

Everyone in the room sensed something was off.

Sandra's gaze landed on me. A hint of amusement flickered in her eyes.

"Who's this?"

Max fell silent, as if weighing how to explain.

I smiled and introduced myself calmly.

"My name is Nicole Carroll. I'm the designer for this project. Mr. Curtis and I are…"

Max spoke at the exact same time as I did.

"College classmates."

The moment the words came out, my grip on the design drafts tightened. My knuckles turned white as the paper creased.

This wasn't the first time I had covered for Max. It also wasn't the first time he chose not to make our relationship public.

That was what a secret marriage really meant. It hid our relationship while confirming the ending we were always headed toward.

The rest of the business meeting went poorly.

Max slipped seamlessly back into his role as a ruthless business elite, representing Sandra as he pressed us aggressively during negotiations.

"Lower the price another ten percent."

He forced our profits and bottom line to the absolute limit.

After a moment of hesitation, my partner clenched his jaw and agreed. "Fine. Mr. Curtis, you certainly live up to your reputation. You saw right through our bottom line."

Max looked away and didn't dare to look at me.

The rumors were true. This man was ruthless.

Only this time, he turned on his own lawfully wedded wife.

Sandra hadn't spoken a word. She only smiled as if nothing mattered to her.

She then reached out to open the box on the table.

"Everyone, have some cake."

Unexpectedly, Max, who had been calm throughout the negotiations, snatched the box away.

"Sandra, don't touch it. You're allergic to peanut butter. Let me check first."

Witnessing that scene was painful for me.

Despite five years of being married, Max had forgotten both our wedding anniversary and my birthday. Even when I reminded him about something, he'd nonchalantly forget it completely.

Yet, he always remembered that I was allergic to peanut butter.

I had once secretly felt relieved, telling myself that maybe while every other detail proved he didn't love me, this one thing showed a hint of care.

I finally understood why.

Even that hint of care was a lie.

The project progressed quickly, but Max thought it wasn't fast enough.

More than once, he emphasized to my partner, "This is Sandra's first project since returning home. I don't want it to fail."

I watched the whole thing with growing detachment.

When we got home after the negotiations ended that day, Max lingered on the couch for a long time.

In the end, he finally explained, "We're still secretly married, after all. I just haven't found the right chance to explain yet."