Making the CEO Kneel and Beg: I won’t Let Him Control Me!

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I couldn’t help but smirk at the notification, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all.

Raymond had left the house earlier, his eyes practically gleaming with satisfaction as he saw the pie he requested was done perfectly.

Without another word, he took it and left, no doubt believing he had done something to make up for the tension between us.

I knew exactly what he was thinking: he thought a large sum of money would smooth things between us.

To be honest, in the past, his "money apologies" had worked, at least for a while. When he threw cash at my anger, it temporarily dulled the sting, letting me forget the hurt of his indifference.

Back then, I had even used some of it to distract myself from how he had rejected me, offering me little more than empty promises.

Now, he must have believed the same trick would work again. After all, I hadn’t made much complain about the money before.

What he didn’t know, however, was that I had long since built my own fortune.

As an expert marketing consultant with a growing alter persona, Purple Hat, in the digital world. For the past four years, I had been earning far more than anything Raymond’s company could offer.

I had started returning his “money apologies” since then, in amounts carefully chosen to trigger bank alerts.

And now, as I looked at the rejection notification, I could almost picture Raymond, furiously trying to figure out why his money had bounced.

*

[Mr. X is calling]

I glanced away from my laptop at the buzzing phone. I stared at the screen, half-expecting Raymond to call around this hour. After a moment, I picked up.

The silence on my end prompted him to start.

"Anne, are you at home?" he asked, his voice soft.

It was always like this—Raymond’s tone softened whenever we were apart, a contrast to the sharper edge he used in person.

"Is there something you need?" I asked, brushing past his question.

"Well... not really," he replied, still in that gentle tone, so different from the raised voice he’d used earlier this morning. "Just... your apple pie tastes amazing."

I nodded to myself. "Yeah, I know. I put effort into it."

"Anne, are you still—"

"Oh? Are you calling Ann?" a bubbly, feminine voice broke in from the background—Valentine.

"Anne!" she chimed, her tone sugary and bright. "Raymond said you made the apple pie! It was insanely good! How did you even manage it? I'm jealous! I wish I had your baking skills. Last time I tried, the whole kitchen nearly went up in flames if Raymond hadn’t been there to save it!"

A nerve pulsed in my temple—not out of jealousy that Raymond and Valentine were together without me knowing, but because of her faux-innocent chatter that made my skin crawl.

"Oh yeah! You can come anytime! I’m basically throwing a birthday party right now and—"

“No, you don’t need to come, Anne,” Raymond cut in firmly. “I’m still waiting on that last report to be finished, okay?”

Before I could get a word in, the line went dead.

I stared at my phone, disbelief simmering. How did I ever fall for a guy like this?

Talk about rude!

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Raymond:

Mr. X: [I take back what I said. Please come over. Pick up some Coke from the convenience store—Valentine forgot to get it for her little party.]

There was a location link sent afterward.

The oddest word in that text was [please]—a dead giveaway that Raymond hadn’t typed it. Somehow, Valentine had gotten hold of his phone and sent the message herself. Raymond never invited me anywhere near him when he had his “dates” with Valentine.

I sighed, shaking my head. Did Valentine really think I was that clueless?

Oh, but wait a minute…

I paused, a slow smile creeping across my face.

I think I could use this opportunity to finally resign—for good.