All Chapters of the billonaires secretary : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

BiancaAnd just like that it was already a week since Dean and i had our very cutesy lunch date . Things had been silk smooth, light, and unexpectedly comfortable. There wasn't dramatic heartbeats, no charged silences, no lingering regrets and no Evelyn Hart, Just me and Dean falling into this strange, easy flow that was starting to feel... nice. Maybe too nice. He brought me coffee on Wednesday, and not just any coffee latte I always get from the place two blocks over because I couldn't stand the ones they sold at the office snd be would place a sticky note with maybe a heart or a Polaroid pic of Vegas and say "and Vegas says hi too" I'll roll my eyes but I'd smile for the rest of the day.On Thursday, he caught me doodling flowers in the margin of a finance report during a meeting, and instead of calling me out, he slid his own notepad over. On it was a sketch of a sad-looking daisy with the words, “Please save me, Bianca. She’s been talking for twenty years.” He made me laugh,

BiancaI never wanted my life to come crashing down like this. I decided to take some days off work after everything to stabilise myself. My life honestly felt like it was practically slipping through my fingers The email first caught my eye that morning an alert flagged in my inbox. My heart raced as I clicked it open. Numbers, figures, accounts I’d barely glanced at before. Something was wrong. The more I stared, the less I understood. A cold dread settled in my chest, tightening with every click. I tried to tell myself it was a mistake. A glitch. But the emails that followed made it impossible to ignore questions I couldn’t answer, people reaching out with vague accusations, unexplained transactions traced back to me or my work. I sat at my kitchen table, staring at the screen, the morning sun failing to warm the chill that spread through my bones. Why? How? It couldn't be. it wasn't there yesterday when I checked. Or was it and I had just missed it Was I careless? Or worse

Bianca POVThe next day passed in a blur. Evelyn had stopped by again, this time dressed in her usual tailored sharpness, her lips painted like blood, her perfume faint but commanding, that i was used to. I’d barely had two bites of my breakfast before she launched into updates.They'd caught one of the guys.Correction—her guys had caught him.I was sitting on the couch, clutching a mug of now-cold tea, while Evelyn mirrored the screen from her phone onto the massive TV on Dean’s wall. What played on the screen felt like something out of a movie. Or a nightmare.The man was tied to a chair. He looked familiar same frame as one of the intruders from the CCTV footage. There was a faint smudge on his left wrist where Dean said he wore a rehab band.His face was swollen. He was bleeding from the corner of his mouth.“This is the one Dean mentioned,” Evelyn said calmly, sipping her coffee. “We tailed him overnight. Picked him up just before noon.”The video cut to her people two of them c

It had been seven days since I got that message from Michael. Seven days since I moved into Evelyn's state of the art prison otherwise known as her penthouseSeven days since my life twisted into something that felt more like a high-stakes hostage situation than a safety plan.Dean called it protection.Evelyn called it protocol.But to me it felt like exile.Evelyn’s Penthouse was elegant, sterile, and suffocating. There were security guards stationed outside the doors, and the housekeeper only spoke when spoken to. Evelyn herself had only been home twice in the past week, breezing in and out like a ghost her lipstick never smudged, her heels always sharp. Apparently, she had another residence in Massachusetts where she handled her private affairs. I was never told more than that. No details. No explanations.Dean came by twice. Both times, he looked exhausted and distracted, only staying long enough to ask if I needed anything before vanishing into some endless crisis. I never told

The first thing I felt was the cold. It crept beneath my clothes and coiled around my spine like a snake, waking me up slowly unwillingly. My eyes fluttered open, my lashes heavy, my vision blurry. Everything was still. Too still. My head pounded, dull and distant, as if I’d been asleep for days. Where... where the hell am I? I tried to sit up, but my body protested and knocked me back down ,muscles trembling from weakness I didn’t understand. I felt like a marionette, barely held together by invisible strings. And then the sharp clink. I looked down. One of my hands my left was chained to the bedpost. Actual metal. Cold against my skin. I tugged instinctively, and the bed groaned under the weight of my movement, but the chain didn’t budge. Panic rose, swift and sour, choking me. The room was small. Gray. Unfamiliar. The kind of place you only see in horror movies or crime documentaries. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting sterile light that made everything look colde