"You're worth exactly what I paid for, Madeline. But can you stop disturbing me with your family issues!" Julian Sterling's voice was so loud that it made me flinch.
I didn't even look up from the bank statement I was holding. My fingers shook so badly the paper almost fell.
There were many red numbers on it—my father's medical bills, interest on the loan I had taken. Everything was debt I could never pay back even if I worked myself to death.
"I need to talk to you about the house, Julian," I said, the words barely pushing past my lips.
He laughed, and there was nothing warm about it. Julian was leaning by the door, wearing a crisp white shirt with clean lines everywhere. Everything about him was just too… perfect.
"You mean the house I bought with my money? Aren't you ashamed of yourself, huh?"
Julian moved closer and gripped my jaw; his touch wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it was enough to make me feel like a doll he was tired of playing with.
"You married me to save your father's wretched life," he reminded me, his breath smelling of mint. "Five years of marriage, and you still don't know your place. Act like a trophy wife that you are or I'll stop sending money to the hospital."
That word nearly stopped my heart from beating. I already knew that was the only string he could pull.
"You're not going to do that," I told him, turning my eyes toward the window.
"Try me," he finally let go of my face, to check his watch. "I have a business meeting to attend this morning. Don't wait up for me. I'm not coming home tonight."
Just as I was about to say something, Julian grabbed his briefcase and left without a sound except the sharp crack of the door shutting hard.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my vision blurred with tears. Letting him see my weakness? That would never happen.
Last month marked my twenty-fifth birthday, yet every one of my bones ached as if I were eighty years old.
No… this wasn't right. I need to find something to do. After all, most women at my age had a job.
My hands started shaking again when I reached for the laptop on the table, but I searched for any available vacancy like Executive Assistant or anything in the Management field.
Each listing required at least a minimum of two years of experience which I didn't have, because Julian had kept me from working.
A minimalist company logo in matte gold and black caught my eye, even though I had not planned to pause.
It was Thorne Enterprises. Okay, this one stood out as it topped the list of global tech firms, ranked as #1. But… hold on. What? The picture I saw on the screen as the CEO almost gave me a heart attack. Seriously?
Wait— Alistair Thorne? That name hit me like a sudden gust. No way he was the one I dated in college, years back. The guy I walked beside through autumn halls. My first love.
The same guy whom I broke up with in front of every student, telling him. "I don't love you anymore, Alistair. I've always wanted to marry a rich guy, and you're just a loser with no future."
I still remember how I left him standing there in the rain, his clothes soaked, holding the engagement ring and a bouquet. He was actually going to propose to me that night.
So now, Alistair was the king of the country. His image was on every magazine as the "Tech Emperor" the man who had risen from nothing to own the world.
And he was hiring a Personal Assistant to the CEO. Salary: Competitive. Duration: 5-year contract.
My fingers lingered over the apply button. God, this was starting to look like a death sentence.
Of course, Alistair wouldn't take it well—more than anger, maybe even rage toward me. But Julian was going to kill my father's hope by morning if I didn't act fast.
Without a second thought, I hit send after uploading my old resume. Ding. The sound echoed in the quiet room. I shut down the laptop and slid it under the pillow.
What had I just done?
***
The next morning, sun flooded the Sterling mansion like a spotlight on a crime scene.
I stared at the ceiling, thinking about the memories of how Alistair's finger used to brush my hair back, that small habit from our twenties.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand. It was a private number.
I picked it up on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Sorry, is this Madeline Sterling?" a woman's voice came through, professionally.
"Yes, speaking."
"This is Thorne Enterprises, and we are glad to inform you that we've reviewed your application. Mr. Thorne wants to see you. Now."
My pulse jumped. "Now? I… I have some things to—"
"Mr Thorne doesn't like to wait, Mrs. Sterling. Try to get here in thirty minutes, or don't bother coming at all."
The call ended.
I quickly ran out of bed to find the only professional-looking outfit I had left— a simple black skirt and a champagne gold blouse.
I took a taxi because I didn't want Julian's driver to know where I was going.
Thorne Enterprises was a skyscraper made of steel and glass, taller than anything I've ever seen. Inside, the lobby was full of sharp-dressed strangers whose outfit price tag was higher than my car.
I went to the front desk nervously, my voice shaking. "Good morning. I'm here for an interview with Mr. Thorne."
The receptionist didn't lift her eyes. "Ma'am, your name please."
"Madeline… Sterling.
Her eyes flickered up, scanning me. "Top floor. The elevator is on the right side."
The elevator climbed to Alistair's office too quickly. A sharp twist hit my gut, and all of a sudden, my palm became sweaty. When the door slid open, the entire floor stretched under glass.
There it stood, at the very end of the hall behind a huge glass door, a desk.
He was sitting right there.
Alistair looked different. His shoulders were broader now, his face more defined. He was wearing a black suit that screamed power, reading a file, his brows furrowed in concentration.
Shame held me by the doorway. I stayed there, my feet refusing to move.
"Are you going to stand there all day, or come in to tell me why you're here?"
His voice… damn, it was deep sending a shiver down my spine that made my toes curl.
I finally walked in, my heels clicking softly on the tiled floor.
Alistair didn't look up for a minute. He just kept flipping through pages. The silence between us was heavy, pressing against my chest.
"I saw the listings," I said, keeping my gaze away from him. "I need this job, Alistair."
He glanced up, and the air in the room vanished. Sharp as a stone, his stare held no warmth. Gone was any trace of calling me 'Sweetheart' only stillness remained.
"It's Mr. Thorne now," he said, resting on his leather chair, crossing his arms. "And I don't remember inviting a Sterling to beg at my office."
"I'm not begging," I lied, my finger clenched tight without meaning to.
Alistair rose slowly, walking around the desk, each of his moves like a predator. He stopped just inches away from me, and still had that familiar scent of cedar of old memories.
"You look tired, Madeline," he murmured, his eyes on my lips. "Did your billionaire husband stop buying you expensive bags? Or perhaps, is the life of a socialite too exhausting for you?"
I flinched. "Alistair, please… I just need to work. I'm a hard worker, you know that."
"I knew you to be a liar," he leaned in closer, his face so near mine I could feel the heat radiating off him. "You're the type of woman to leave when things get tough."
He walked back to his desk and picked up a thick document. "You want a job? Fine. But I don't hire people for a few months. I need someone I can own."
He dropped the contract on the table.
"Five years Madeline. Sign this, and you're mine. You can't leave or quit. You work whenever I tell you to work, and you go where I tell you to go."
Staring at the paper, five years? "Why would you want me here?" I asked, regretting what I did in the past. "You still hate me, right?"
He stepped closer again, his hand reaching out. I thought he was going to touch my cheek, instead, he grabbed the edge of the desk behind me, trapping me between his arms.
"Hate is a strong word, Madeline," he whispered into my ear. "I want to see how long it will take for you to break, and how the girl who left me for money has to work for every penny I give her."
Without warning, my phone buzzed in my blazer. I pulled it out, it was a message from Julian.
"I just spoke to the hospital. Your father's treatment ends at noon. Unless you come right now to apologize for your attitude."
It was 11:30 A.M. My gaze moved from the contract to Alistair's face. He grinned when he saw the desperation I couldn't hide.
"Sign it, Madeline or go back to your husband. The choice is yours."
Reading the fine print was unnecessary, as I signed my name.
"Good," Alistair said, snatching the pen away. "Your first task starts now. We are going to a lunch meeting. With Julian Sterling."
My heart dropped. "What? No. Alistair, I can't. That's my hus—"
"You're my assistant now," he whispered, picking up his jacket. Alistair didn't look up as he walked toward the door. "And the first rule of our contract? You do exactly what I say."
I stood there like a ghost, realizing I had traded one cage for another, only that this one had a wolf who had five years to tear my world apart.
I followed him out, already having a headache before we reached the hall. The elevator showed our reflection; Alistair was powerful, while I was breaking inside.
"Don't look so miserable," he said, tightening his grip over my arm. "The show is just beginning."
The elevator stopped at the lobby, and we stepped out. The first person we saw at the entrance with a look of fury was— Julian.
He saw me. Fucking hell, he saw Alistar's hand on my arm.