Protect His Secretary, Abandon His Wife - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading Protect His Secretary, Abandon His Wife, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of Protect His Secretary, Abandon His Wife.
"What?" I let out a disbelieving laugh. "Are you serious? Why would I ever do something like that?"
"You don't like Cinthia—that much is obvious. Maybe you…" His tone was accusatory.
I cut him off. "She doesn't like me either. So, by that logic, can I assume she was behind my kidnapping? Once I'm out of your life, her path to you would be wide open, wouldn't it?"
"Shut up, Rosaline," he snapped. "She's not that kind of person."
"And I am?" My voice lost all composure. "Eight years together, and you still don't know me at all?" He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples before locking eyes with me.
"I'm just asking you straight, Rosaline. Did you do it or not?" His voice was steel.
"No, I didn't. Do you actually believe me, David?" I shot back, anger simmering.
His expression softened slightly, his voice lowering. "Yes, I do. I was just worried about Cinthia's safety. That's why I told you to stop this. But if it wasn't you, then we have a real problem."
I didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Should I be relieved he finally trusted me? Or furious that his concern was for her, not me? Tears pricked my eyes as I asked, "What about me, David? Did you even bother looking into who kidnapped me? What if they come back?"
"Didn't you file a police report?" He raised a brow dismissively. "They'll handle it. Don't worry."
That was it. No reassurance, no urgency—just empty words before he buried himself in his phone, scrolling for clues about Cinthia's supposed stalker. It felt like a dozen arrows piercing my chest. Right then, I realized I'd wasted eight years on a man who never deserved a second of them.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
"Rosaline," David called after me. "Don't go alone. I'll have Jimmy drive you."
"No need. I'm not afraid anymore." I didn't even glance back.
The moment I stepped into Williams Headquarters, the whispers started. The building was a sleek, modern masterpiece—the pride of the city—with handpicked employees and top-tier security. Yet today, the guards seemed unusually alert, and curious stares followed me everywhere.
Minutes later, David arrived with Cinthia in tow. Her laughter rang through the lobby, turning heads. Two bodyguards flanked them like royalty.
I was the one who'd been attacked. But she got the VIP treatment—all under the guise of being David's "secretary."
I ignored them, heading straight for the printer, pretending not to notice the gossip swirling around me. My coworkers were waiting for a reaction. I refused to give them one.
As I passed two of David's lackeys, I caught their hushed exchange:
"Ms. Rosaline's so cold," one muttered. "Men prefer women who are fun, like Miss Cinthia."
They clammed up when they saw me, but the damage was done. To them, I was the boring, uptight one because I didn't waste time gossiping or flaunting my connection to the CEO. I didn't care.
Heels clicking against marble, I returned to my office and found an envelope waiting—receipts and my resignation letter. I stuffed them into my pocket and marched to David's office.
Cinthia's laughter spilled into the hallway. Without knocking, I shoved the door open.
She was practically draped over David's chair, her eyes widening in fake innocence.
"Miss Rosaline, I was just—"
"Get out," I snapped.
She blinked, stunned. "What?"
"Out." My glare didn't waver.
David's eyes darkened. "Rosaline, watch your tone."
I ignored him, yanking the envelope from my pocket and slamming it onto his desk. Receipts scattered—proof of hotel stays, dates, all the lies.
"Next time you sneak off with my partner," I said icily, "make sure he doesn't come home with the evidence in his pocket."
"You don't like Cinthia—that much is obvious. Maybe you…" His tone was accusatory.
I cut him off. "She doesn't like me either. So, by that logic, can I assume she was behind my kidnapping? Once I'm out of your life, her path to you would be wide open, wouldn't it?"
"Shut up, Rosaline," he snapped. "She's not that kind of person."
"And I am?" My voice lost all composure. "Eight years together, and you still don't know me at all?" He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples before locking eyes with me.
"I'm just asking you straight, Rosaline. Did you do it or not?" His voice was steel.
"No, I didn't. Do you actually believe me, David?" I shot back, anger simmering.
His expression softened slightly, his voice lowering. "Yes, I do. I was just worried about Cinthia's safety. That's why I told you to stop this. But if it wasn't you, then we have a real problem."
I didn't know whether to laugh or scream. Should I be relieved he finally trusted me? Or furious that his concern was for her, not me? Tears pricked my eyes as I asked, "What about me, David? Did you even bother looking into who kidnapped me? What if they come back?"
"Didn't you file a police report?" He raised a brow dismissively. "They'll handle it. Don't worry."
That was it. No reassurance, no urgency—just empty words before he buried himself in his phone, scrolling for clues about Cinthia's supposed stalker. It felt like a dozen arrows piercing my chest. Right then, I realized I'd wasted eight years on a man who never deserved a second of them.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
"Rosaline," David called after me. "Don't go alone. I'll have Jimmy drive you."
"No need. I'm not afraid anymore." I didn't even glance back.
The moment I stepped into Williams Headquarters, the whispers started. The building was a sleek, modern masterpiece—the pride of the city—with handpicked employees and top-tier security. Yet today, the guards seemed unusually alert, and curious stares followed me everywhere.
Minutes later, David arrived with Cinthia in tow. Her laughter rang through the lobby, turning heads. Two bodyguards flanked them like royalty.
I was the one who'd been attacked. But she got the VIP treatment—all under the guise of being David's "secretary."
I ignored them, heading straight for the printer, pretending not to notice the gossip swirling around me. My coworkers were waiting for a reaction. I refused to give them one.
As I passed two of David's lackeys, I caught their hushed exchange:
"Ms. Rosaline's so cold," one muttered. "Men prefer women who are fun, like Miss Cinthia."
They clammed up when they saw me, but the damage was done. To them, I was the boring, uptight one because I didn't waste time gossiping or flaunting my connection to the CEO. I didn't care.
Heels clicking against marble, I returned to my office and found an envelope waiting—receipts and my resignation letter. I stuffed them into my pocket and marched to David's office.
Cinthia's laughter spilled into the hallway. Without knocking, I shoved the door open.
She was practically draped over David's chair, her eyes widening in fake innocence.
"Miss Rosaline, I was just—"
"Get out," I snapped.
She blinked, stunned. "What?"
"Out." My glare didn't waver.
David's eyes darkened. "Rosaline, watch your tone."
I ignored him, yanking the envelope from my pocket and slamming it onto his desk. Receipts scattered—proof of hotel stays, dates, all the lies.
"Next time you sneak off with my partner," I said icily, "make sure he doesn't come home with the evidence in his pocket."
End of Protect His Secretary, Abandon His Wife Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Protect His Secretary, Abandon His Wife book page.