Loving You For Eight Years

I am the long-suffering secretary who has secretly loved my boss for eight years, just like in a typical romance novel—by day, his secretary, and by night, his lover.

At first, I was chasing after love, but then I woke up. I didn’t want to be a lovesick fool anymore, pining for a man who barely noticed me. So, I decided to make more money and find myself a sweet heartthrob to love me.

After another night of passion, I threw a contract at my boss and said, “Take a look. I want to redefine our relationship.”

——

After our passionate night, my boss, Ryan, barely glanced at me as he lay half-asleep on the bed. “Get out,” he muttered.

I didn’t even look back at him. I numbly gathered my clothes and headed to the guest room.

Ryan is the two years senior than me in the college—handsome, wealthy, and with a line of admirers. And me? I’m just a poor girl from a small mountain village who got through school on scholarships and grants.

We met during a school project, where I was determined to stand out and prove myself. Ryan noticed me then. When he started his own business after graduation, he invited me to join him, and I didn’t hesitate to say yes.

It’s been eight years since then—eight years of being his secretary, and eventually, his bed partner, even though I knew he looked down on me, thinking I was only after his money.

After our first night together, he coldly pulled on his pants and tossed me a black card.

“Emma, know your place. Just because I slept with you doesn’t mean you’re worthy of being my wife.”

That black card had no limit. Overnight, I became rich as his bed partner. But I never spent a dime on myself. Everything went back to him—on gifts for him, dinners, clothes.

He gave me bags, jewelry, couture, even a house. I’ve kept track of every single thing, never wanting to take advantage of him. Every penny I’ve spent was what I’ve earned through my hard work at the company.

I might be poor, but I have my pride. It was that pride that keeps my dignity intact.

I moved into his villa, and every day, besides managing the high-intensity work of being Ryan’s assistant, I took care of his house and his needs. He said he liked my cooking, so whenever he wasn’t out on business, I made sure to prepare all his meals.

Day after day, I hoped that one day I could win his cold heart. But instead, I got the news that he was engaged to a wealthy socialite.

That broke me. I have my limits. I won’t be anyone’s mistress or side piece.

The next morning, as Ryan sat elegantly at the dining table in his suit, I threw a contract down in front of him. “Take a look. I want to change the terms of our relationship.”

He glanced at me, annoyed. “What?”

I put on my black-framed glasses, trying to look serious as I picked up the contract. “First off, let’s talk about my salary.”

“I’m currently doing three jobs. At the company, I’m your secretary, handling everything that comes your way. Back at the villa, I’m your maid and your bed partner. For all that, I’m only making 8,500 a month. After eight years, I think it’s time for a raise.”

“So, here’s what I’m proposing: I want to end our personal arrangement and stick to being your chief secretary. I’m asking for 35,000 dollars a month, with a 13th-month salary, plus a 17,000 bonus at year-end. And, by the way, here’s your black card.”

I slid the black card—the symbol of our relationship—across the table, making it clear that it was over.

Ryan stared at me with disdain. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who climbed into my bed willingly. Now you’re making it sound like I’ve been taking advantage of you.”

“A secretary plus a nanny, 35,000 dollars a month? Do you think I’m made of money, or that you’re worth that much? I could hire ten secretaries and nannies for that.”

He didn’t even bother looking at the contract, just kept eating the breakfast I’d made for him like it was any other day.

“Yeah, I was the one who started this, but I can end it too, right? If you’re not on board, just fire me and pay me the severance I’m owed.”

I’d always been soft-spoken and timid around him, never raising my voice. But now, my firm stance seemed to catch him off guard.

He watched me in silence for a moment before sneering, “Since when do you get to decide? Whether you’re in or out isn’t up to you, so stop playing these little power games.”

Power games? Thanks to your rigorous training over the years, I’m more than capable of being a president’s secretary—or running a listed company, for that matter.

“Fine, I’m done. Go ahead and hire your ten secretaries and ten nannies!” I pulled out a resignation letter I’d prepared and tossed it onto the table. “Sign it. I’ll send the dismissal email to HR under your name.”

He still looked amused, like he thought I was bluffing. “Think carefully. Once you sign this, there’s no coming back—even if you beg.”

But after he signed, I didn’t say another word. I just went upstairs to pack my things.