Married to My Cold Hearted Boss

It was just a regular Saturday at Morgan’s Table—the restaurant my family had run for nearly two decades.

The scent of slow-roasted and fried chicken and meatloaf filled the air, blending with the laughter of satisfied customers and the clatter of silverware. Morgan’s Table wasn’t just known for its food; it was the soul of East Bridge. Everyone came for our meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and crispy fried chicken—but they stayed for the warmth. For us.

My father, the ever-smiling face of the place, was behind the register, cracking jokes with our regulars like always. His booming laughter echoed off the walls. To anyone watching, he looked like the happiest man in the world.

But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that smiles lie. Even the brightest ones.

I’m Ayla Morgan. Twenty-one years old, born and raised right here in East Bridge—a big, bustling city.

East Bridge wasn’t as massive as New York or Chicago, but it had its share of sky-high buildings, glass offices, and secrets.

I lost my mother before I ever had the chance to know her. She died giving birth to me. All I ever knew of her came from stories.

My father used to say I looked just like her—that she was gentle, soft-spoken, and the kindest soul he ever met.

After her death, friends and family urged Dad to remarry. They said a little girl needed a mother.

Two years later, he did. And with that marriage came my stepmother, Anna, and eventually, the twins—Sierra and Zayden.

They were born five years after the wedding, which made them fourteen now.

To be honest, Anna wasn’t the wicked stepmother fairytales warned me about.

She took care of me since I was two years old. She raised me like her own—at least in front of my father.

There were days she could be cold. Sometimes even a bit unfair. And when Dad wasn’t around… she beat me over the littlest things.

But I never told him.

I figured no one could love me like my real mother would’ve. And whatever faults Anna had… she tried.

Yes, she did. She raised me—even if not with much love.

And in my book, that counted for something.

That Saturday, the twins were at their weekend lessons. I wasn’t at work that day—it was the weekend.

I work at CrossLux Headquarters—one of the biggest luxury hospitality brands in the country.

They own five-star hotels, rooftop bars, and fine-dining restaurants in almost every major city.

It’s fast-paced, fancy, and honestly… a completely different world from Morgan’s Table.

So I stayed back to help out with little things—clearing tables, wiping down counters, and chatting with some of the old customers who’d known me since I was in diapers.

Anna was in the kitchen, apron on, overseeing staff and barking orders. She always did run a tight ship.

Dad was out front, teasing a couple who came in every Saturday for our meatloaf and chicken.

Nothing felt off.

Until it did.

One second, he was laughing.

The next, he clutched his stomach mid-laugh and let out a pained grunt. Everyone paused.

I thought maybe he was just being dramatic—he joked like that sometimes.

But then he staggered back, his face twisted in pain.

“Dad?” I rushed toward him.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, waving me off. His forehead was drenched in sweat.

He tried to stand straight, but then his knees buckled—and he collapsed.

Everything moved fast and slow all at once.

I screamed.

Anna came rushing out of the kitchen, panic written all over her face. Customers backed away.

Someone called 911.

I sat there, cradling his head, whispering, “Please… Daddy, wake up. Please…”

When the paramedics arrived, they moved quickly, asking questions I couldn’t answer.

I sat numbly in the back of the ambulance, gripping his hand.

His eyes fluttered open for a moment.

He smiled at me.

I didn’t know… that would be the last time I’d see him alive.

At the hospital, Anna and I waited outside the emergency room. Pacing. Praying. Panicking.

My heart was hammering so loudly, I could barely hear her speak.

Then she said it.

“He’s… he’s been complaining about stomach pain for a while now. Just little things. But he kept brushing it off…”

I stared at her. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“He said it was nothing,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Minutes passed. Hours. It felt like forever.

Then the doctor came out.

And everything inside me died.

“I’m so sorry,” he said gently. “He didn’t make it.”

Didn’t make it?

What do you mean, didn’t make it?

He was just fine. Laughing. Smiling. Joking with customers.

We brought him here alive.

How was he… dead?

I don’t even remember how we got to the doctor’s office, but suddenly, Anna and I were sitting across from him, his eyes heavy with regret.

“There’s something you both should know,” he said.

“Your father… he was diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer five months ago.”

My mind went blank.

No. That’s not possible.

Stage… what?

“He came in for tests,” the doctor continued. “The cancer had already spread.

He declined treatment. Said he didn’t want to worry his family or waste money.”

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.

Anna covered her mouth with her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“He never told me… He never said anything…”

He kept it a secret.

He knew.

And still… he showed up to the restaurant every single day.

Still cracked jokes. Still worked the register.

Smiled like everything was fine—because he didn’t want us to worry.

He was protecting us while his body was slowly shutting down.

I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Just like that… I became an orphan.

No father. No mother.

Just a girl with a broken heart and a restaurant that suddenly felt so empty.

When we returned home, word had already spread.

The twins came back—confused and tear-streaked.

Sierra collapsed on the couch, wailing.

Zayden stared into nothing, lips trembling.

I couldn’t cry—not because I didn’t want to, but because my brain still couldn’t process it.

I kept expecting him to walk through the door.

To call my name.

To ask what was for dinner.

But he never did.

Three days later, we buried him.

Three days after that, I found myself sitting on the cold bathroom tiles at dawn, hugging my knees to my chest…

wondering how life could change so suddenly.

So cruelly.

My sunshine was gone.

And just when I thought the worst was over…

life delivered another blow.

A blow that would change everything again.