Chapter 5

“Selina!”

I jumped at the sound of Mr. Ethan Blake's loud voice. It pierced through the fog of my thoughts and yanked me back into reality.

I had been staring off into space, imagining scenarios that would never happen, letting my mind wander dangerously close to hope. When he asked if I was pregnant, my body froze, my heart stuttering in panic. My brain went into overdrive, spinning absurd, impossible possibilities that made my stomach twist.

“M-Mr. Blake?” I asked, my voice barely steady, trembling despite my effort to hide it.

“I asked if you’re pregnant.” His brow was furrowed, anger creeping into his tone.

I let out a dramatic laugh, shaking my head as if that simple gesture could erase the absurdity of his question. “Of course not. I’m not pregnant. How could I be? I’m not even dating anyone.” My words hung in the air, tinged with an awkwardness I couldn’t hide.

"Then tell me, why did you submit a resignation letter?!" His jaw tightened, not blinking.

Damn. This was harder than I imagined. He wouldn't stop until he heard a valid reason why I was leaving his company.

"I... I need a higher salary. And I... feel like I'm more of a servant than your executive assistant. It's exhausting me..." I offered, forcing the excuse out.

"Is that all your reasons?!" He was seething. Then he laughed, humorless. "You could have just told me if you felt that way, so I could have fixed it!"

"No, Mr. Blake. My decision—"

"I'll increase your salary. I will lighten your workload. What else do you want? Tell me!"

I could see desperation in his eyes just to keep me from leaving.

"I won’t take it back. I will... still resign," I almost a whisper. "But don’t worry, I won’t leave right away. I’ll help you find your new executive assistant. I’ll make sure the transition is smooth from me to whoever gets hired."

A flicker of sadness crossed his face. But quickly, he brushed it away and exhaled sharply. "Fine, if that’s what you want. But you can’t leave until you find a suitable replacement. You’ll train her for her first three days, and if I don’t like her, you find someone else."

I could do nothing but nod. This seemed like the easiest solution.

"I need to fetch Ingrid. We're having lunch."

He rose from his seat, and I instinctively stood, following him to the door.

Once the elevator doors slid shut, a shiver ran down my spine. I let the tears fall, uncontrolled. The dam I had held up inside me crumbled, letting the pain wash over in relentless waves.

"Fuck Cupid. You’re good at breaking hearts."

**

The next morning, nausea hit like a sledgehammer. I couldn’t go to work again. I made up an excuse that I had caught a bad cough and cold and didn’t want to risk infecting anyone.

But I didn’t know what excuse I could use next.

After two days, just as I had promised Ethan, I had to return to work. My stomach still twisted in rebellion, curling into itself with violent insistence. I bolted to the bathroom, barely reaching the floor before vomiting everything I had eaten the night before. My body shook with exhaustion, each heave leaving me weaker than before.

I cried through it. My throat felt raw, my stomach empty and aching. Morning sickness had become a daily ritual, yet each day brought the same harsh awakening, the same hopeless sensation. My pickiness and constant dislike for even the simplest foods only made it worse.

After a few quiet minutes, I forced myself upright, leaning on the cool tile for support. Pain screamed through my body, yet I moved, each step a battle against the frailty that gripped me.

“How are you feeling, Selina? Better now?”

The familiar hum of my coworkers’ voices drifted through the cubicles as I passed. I had just returned from sick leave, and even though exhaustion begged me to retreat upstairs, curiosity and obligation held me in place.

I gave a small nod and a polite smile, masking the fatigue etched into my features. “Just a cold. I’ll be fine. How was everything while I was gone?”

“Oh my gosh, Selina! You missed it yesterday. You would not believe what happened with Mr. Blake and Ingrid.” Nebreska leaned in, her grin wide, excitement sparking in her eyes.

Instantly, all eyes turned toward me.

I furrowed my brow. “Why? What happened?”

Nebreska smirked. “Here’s the tea you missed yesterday. It was like a drama. I wish I had popcorn while watching.”

Pregnancy brain aside, my patience was razor-thin. “Just tell me,” I said, keeping my voice even, trying to mask the anxiety crawling up my spine.

She laughed, oblivious to the tension she was stirring. “Relax. A few seconds won’t kill you. You’re acting like a pregnant lady.”

Did I really look that obvious?

My heart began to hammer against my ribs, loud and unrelenting.

“Straight to the point, Nebreska. You talk too much,” Sasha’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Fine, fine,” Nebreska said, rolling her eyes. “So, Ingrid told Mr. Blake that she’s going abroad. I think she accepted a modeling project there. She’ll be gone for five months because of a contract she signed. And isn’t she supposed to get married next month? Well, Mr. Blake freaked. He tried to stop her. He even said that if she left, they should just forget about the wedding and their relationship. Ingrid hesitated but decided to go. She couldn’t undo the contract anyway. She cried, said she loves him, and then left.”

I stood frozen, a chill crawling over me. Drama while I was out—just my luck.

“Where did you hear this?” Sasha asked Nebreska.

“From solid sources. Mr. Blake's voice was too loud. We couldn’t miss it if we tried,” she replied.

I couldn’t believe it. Were they really broken up? I pushed the thought away, burying it beneath concern for my boss’s well-being, not my assumptions.

“What did Ethan do after she left?” I asked hesitantly, my voice small, tentative.

“Nothing. He walked out and locked himself in his office. He was terrifying when he came back. We all felt his rage. Normally we stay professional, but he’s the boss. We had no choice but to stay quiet.”

I didn’t comment, quietly excusing myself and heading upstairs. The rest of the day blurred, my concentration shredded by worry gnawing at me.

A yawn escaped, and sleepiness draped over me like a heavy blanket. “Just five minutes,” I whispered to myself.

When I woke, the watch glared at me: past eight in the evening.

"Shit!" I had overslept.

I peeked at Ethan’s office door, hesitant.

Did he come in?

Gripping the wall for balance, I pushed away the dizziness threatening to pull me down. Slowly, I approached his office, bracing for whatever anger might greet me for sleeping on the job.

Three knocks. Silence.

I opened the door cautiously.

My breath caught. A broad chest filled the doorway, and I stumbled back, struggling not to lose my footing.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact… but he was faster. Ethan caught me, pulling me close, his arm locking firmly around my waist.

I gasped, my heart hammering.

“Careful,” he said, deep and calm, his presence both grounding and suffocating.

I looked at him, shock written across my face. My pulse raced, loud and threatening to betray me.

“E-Ethan…” I whispered, barely audible.

I tried to step back, gently pushing against him, but he didn’t budge. His arm remained a cage, warmth radiating from him, a dangerous pull I couldn’t resist.

“S-Sir… please let me go.”

He stared at me, intense and silent. The scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol, curling around me. I wrinkled my nose instinctively.

“Mr. Blake, please… you smell,” I blurted out, hoping to break his focus.

He didn’t listen. Instead, he tightened the embrace, pressing his face into my neck. I leaned away, trying to carve a tiny space between us, feeling the heat of his breath on my skin.

I swallowed hard. “Mr. Blake…”

“Why can’t she stay with me, Selina? Why does she choose work over me? And why is it so easy for her to trade our relationship for that damn job?” His voice cracked, raw and desperate, face still pressed into my neck.

I exhaled slowly. This wasn’t petty. Their fight had layers, a deep and painful history I could feel radiating off him.

“Mr. Blake, you need to rest. You’re drunk,” I said, gently pushing.

“Stay with me tonight, Selina.”

I bit my lower lip.

“I-I'm... sorry, I can’t. I won’t make things worse. You’re drunk, and these words are just drunk words. You need to rest. When you sober up, go to Ingrid. Don’t let her slip away.”

I loved him, but I couldn’t be selfish. I had to focus on myself, on my pregnancy, on peace.

He stiffened, a fleeting flash of disappointment, then without a word, he let me go.

“You’re right. I’m just drunk. I’m sorry, Selina. Forget tonight.” He turned, leaving me trembling in the doorway.

Deciding it was time to leave, I closed the door behind me.