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Series 1–Chapter 1
“Ms. Wentworth, President Connolly has signed off on your resignation. But… I don’t think he realized it was you. Do you want me to let him know?”
Xanthe kept her gaze on the resignation form in her hands. Shaking her head, she said, “That won’t be necessary.”
“Ms. Wentworth.” The HR representative let out a quiet sigh, as if trying one last time. “He still cares about you, you know. Everyone in this company actually thinks you two will be endgame. Maybe… just think it through?”
A scoff slipped past Xanthe’s lips.
Little did they know, whatever romance was going on between her and the CEO wasn’t just some office gossip–she and Barrington had already been married.
Their relationship had been legal–just kept secret.
But getting married was one thing, and being cared for was another. She learned the difference the hard way three months ago.
A car accident that fractured her spine, and she needed her husband to come to the hospital to sign the surgery consent form.
But she lost count of the times she called him before he picked up the phone. Worse, she waited so long only to hear his impatient tone.
“It’s just a car accident. You’ll be fine. Hang on–I’m still at Vionnet’s birthday dinner.”
Vionnet.
Her best friend.
That was the moment Xanthe realized her husband was cheating on her.
In the end, while she was fighting for her life in the ICU, she had to sign her own consent form.
Just before she was wheeled into surgery, Barrington finally showed up–but with her best friend in his arms.
Apparently, she’d cut her finger on a kitchen knife. For her sake, he pulled the surgeon aside, demanding he take a look at her first.
That brief delay–the minutes they lost–cost Xanthe blood loss.
And she spent the next week in the ICU, not knowing if she’d ever walk again.
That was when she finally woke up to the truth.
‘Some things, when they rot–like marriage–need to be discarded. Now that I’ve recovered, it’s time to walk away.’
She looked up at the HR rep, calm and composed. “People change,” she said softly. “I stood by him through the most difficult three years of his life. That’s enough.”
In all those years, the woman Barrington had loved had always been Vionnet.
Xanthe was just a byproduct of a night gone wrong–three years ago, when Barrington had been drugged and ended up in her bed.
When the scandal couldn’t be avoided, he agreed to marry her–on the condition that no one
The CEO’s Secretary Resigned with Divorce Papers
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could ever know.
Now that the woman he loved had returned to Illinois, Xanthe had no intentions of holding onto a guy nobody knew was hers even just in papers.
But before she left, she had one last thing to do. She would give him four parting gifts–each one a celebration of the freedom they would finally have without each other.
With divorce papers in her bag, Xanthe pushed open the glass door to the CEO’s office.
Inside, Barrington was trimming the stems of a bouquet of white lilies with his sleeves rolled up He had never been the romantic type. In fact, he used to mock other guys for giving their girls flowers.
“Pointless things,” he’d said one Valentine’s Day. “Dead in a week.”
In the three years they’d been married, she hadn’t received so much as a single daisy.
And those lilies weren’t hers; it was Vionnet’s favorite.
A few clipped stems dropped into the trash before he finally glanced over. “Back to work already? How’s the recovery?”
He stood up, setting the bouquet in a crystal vase, adjusting a petal, and adding, “About last time… I didn’t mean for things to go that way. Vionnet’s not like you. You know she’s fragile. On little cut, and she’s out cold. Besides, there was only one doctor on call that night.”
“But I knew you’d be fine.” He smiled at her. “You’ve been through worse, right? Grew up with nothing. A minor surgery’s nothing, right?”
Xanthe nearly laughed.
He had no idea–she was the only heir to one of the wealthiest families in the state. The only time she lived a difficult life began the day she married him.
He would’ve known it had she stayed in touch with the family she left just to marry him.
But she let him believe what he wanted. After all, silence always read as agreement to Barrington. For that, to him, she always had such a good temper–perfect for keeping around.
He walked over, smiling and holding out the lilies like a trophy. “Hey, do you think these are
beautiful?”
As soon as the flowers came close, a tickle hit her throat. She turned her head, coughed once, then twice–violent, involuntary.
His wife’s allergy was flaring, but the first thing he did was shove her aside.
Her back slammed into the sharp corner of the desk. The stitches on her healing wound tore open, and blood began to seep through her blouse.
While pain blurred her vision, Barrington’s worried eyes were fixed on the lilies.
“You almost ruined them!” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how rare these are? Flown in! Professionally grown!”
Realizing how she couldn’t even compete with flowers even if it cost her health, Xanthe let out a bitter laugh, thinking, ‘I stayed three years with him for this? My god, I must have been blind to
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love this asshole!‘
Series 1–Chapter 1
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She had a severe flower allergy–something he never cared enough to know. And if he cared ever the slightest, he’d have known her injuries weren’t fully healed.
She drew in a sharp breath, steadied herself, and pulled out the documents from her bag.
*President Connolly,” she said, holding out the papers. “I need your signature.”
That made him pause. For the first time, his gaze lingered on her.
Something about her seemed different. When it was just the two of them, she’d call him by his name–never “President Connolly.”
“You just got out of the hospital. You should be resting,” he murmured.
Still, he reached for the papers. Just as his fingers brushed the document, his phone rang.
The contact name flashed through the screen; and Xanthe caught a glimpse of it.
[Baby]
He had saved Vionnet’s name as something so sweet while hers had always been formal like her full name.
The contrast said everything.
He answered with a grin, bouquet in one hand, and walked toward the door.
“I won’t be home for dinner. Just head back by yourself after work.”
Xanthe stepped in front of him, flipped to the last page, and shoved a pen into his palm.
“Sign it first.”
The CEO’s brows furrowed. He was always cautious–never signed anything without dissecting every word first.
But just as he was about to scan the document, his phone rang again.
Even with the volume nearly muted, Vionnet’s voice poured out–flirtatious.
“Barry, I’ve been waiting forever! Hurry up and come over now…”
Just like that, for once, the ever–cautious CEO didn’t read a single line. He just flicked his wrist and scribbled his signature.
“There. Happy now? Can I leave?” he said sarcastically.
Looking at his signature, Xanthe barely nodded. “Yeah. You’re free now.”
This time, she did exactly as he wished–she let him go, and gave him back his freedom.
As he left, he tossed over his shoulder, saying, “The office hasn’t been cleaned in months. You’re here now–why don’t you take care of it?”
With that, the heavy slam of the door echoed in her ears.
Barrington’s office had always been off–limits. Not a speck of dust in sight. Only Xanthe ever knew where the spare key was, which drawer housed the wipes, how he liked the edges of papers perfectly aligned.
When she walked to his desk, the photo frame caught her eye.
Vionnet’s smile stared back at her from behind the glass. That frame used to hold Xanthe’s face. When she turned, her eyes caught the wastebasket by the cabinet. There her photo was-
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face–down, crumpled at the edges like trash.
Her lips curved, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. It sliced.
There had been a time when she called Vionnet her “bestie.” But for Barrington, her best frien had always been his “favorite person.”
Although Xanthe had always liked Barrington too, she kept her feelings buried for the sake o that friendship… until their college graduation.
That was the time Vionnet vanished outside the state, swept away by some German tycoon and a plane ticket.
That night, Barrington drank so much he didn’t notice when someone at the bar drugged his drink. What happened next was a mistake–Just one reckless night between him and his first love’s best friend.
The memories flashed by like a tragic film, blurring Xanthe’s eyes.
She wiped a tear from her cheek with one hand while the other reached for the drawer. Inside lay a photograph, its corners faded with time, and a love letter–crisp and untouched, as if it had never been opened.
For four years, she had loved Barrington so much that she wrote him ninety–nine love letters,
But since Vionnet came back to Illinois six months ago, every time Barrington chose her over his wife, Xanthe struck another match.
The 99th love letter burned at the hospital.
The one in her hand was the last; it was time to let go.
With a box of her belongings in her hand, she walked out of the building and made a call from
the car.
“Trevor,” she said calmly, “didn’t you say you liked me? One month from now, once I get th divorce certificate–we’ll get married.”
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