The harsh morning light pierced through the blinds, a cruel reminder that I was still trapped in a life I no longer recognized. I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, the ghost of my baby’s two-week-old cries echoed in my ears, closely followed by the booming, cruel voice of my husband, Draven.

I couldn’t do this anymore.

An hour later, I was sitting in a high-rise office downtown, staring at the only person I could trust: my college best friend, Martha, who was now a practicing family lawyer. I laid it all bare the years of emotional abuse, the isolation, and my desperate need to escape.

Martha sighed, massaging her temples as she looked at me with deep concern. "Ariel, you’ve been isolated since you got married. You haven't worked a single day since you gave birth. If you want to survive a divorce from a man as vindictive as Draven, you need a foundation. The very first thing you need to do is get a job. You need to be financially stable, or he will use your dependency to crush you in court."

But returning home was a swift descent back into purgatory. The moment I stepped through the front door, the shrill voice of my mother-in-law cut through the quiet house like a serrated knife.

"Where the hell have you been?!" she screeched, marching out of the living room, her face twisted in disgust. "You left this house without making breakfast for my son! You lazy, useless girl. Draven works his fingers to the bone, and you can’t even fulfill your basic duties as a wife?"

She hurled insult after insult, calling me every degrading name in her vocabulary. I didn't say a word. I kept my head down, my chest tight, and walked straight past her into the kitchen. I didn't argue. I just turned on the Gas and began preparing dinner, silently repeating Martha’s advice like a mantra in my head. Get a job. Get out.

(Flinch Tech Headquarters)

Meanwhile, in the sprawling, ultra-modern penthouse office of Flinch Tech, a different kind of tension was brewing. Andrew, the executive assistant to the most powerful tech mogul in California, stood nervously before his boss’s desk.

"Mr. Lauren," Andrew began carefully, adjusting his glasses. "I’ve encountered a major issue. Our medical liaisons haven't been able to secure another anonymous breast milk supply for your condition. The current batch is running out."

Vincent Lauren didn't look up from his tablet, his striking, icy features unreadable. His *Dialora sickness* was a heavily guarded corporate secret a condition that required a specific, clinical remedy twice a day just to keep him functional.

"Keep looking," Vincent commanded, his voice a low, commanding baritone. "What else?"

"I'm compiling the CVs for the first batch of applicants for your new executive secretary position. I’ll send the files to your tablet shortly," Andrew reported. "Also, a reminder about the upcoming Flinch Tech Charity Gala for disabled youth. You are the main host. Actress Elena Valtieri has officially confirmed her attendance as a co-host."

Andrew hesitated, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Mr. Vincent, you know Miss Elena has been desperate to get your attention for months. The moment she heard about the charity, she volunteered willingly."

Vincent finally looked up, his dark eyes flashing with cold disdain. "That cheap slut just wants me to fuck her pussy. She wants to be the Lauren girlfriend so she can use my name to secure more global ambassador deals. But I don't sleep with sluts my security guys have already licked. She’s wasting her time."

He waved a dismissive hand. "Send me the secretary files. Let’s see if anyone is actually competent."

Back at the house, the front door slammed open. Draven was home.

Before he even took off his coat, his complaints filled the hallway. He walked into the dining room, immediately throwing a fit about the placement of his keys, the temperature of the house, and the dinner on the table. He insulted my intelligence, my appearance, and my worth just like he did every single day.

Before he could finish his latest tirade, I looked him dead in the eye. "I want a divorce, Draven."

The room went dead silent. Then, Draven burst into a loud, mocking laugh.

"You want a divorce?" he sneered, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Who put such utter rubbish in your head? Stop talking nonsense and serve my food."

"You will be hearing from my lawyer soon, Draven. This is not a joke," I said, my voice shaking

"I am tired of being your slave. I am tired of being disrespected. I am freeing myself from this marriage."

Daven's laughter vanished, replaced by a dark, ugly sneer. He took a step toward me, towering over me with absolute arrogance.

"Freeing yourself? With what money, Ariel? Where exactly are you going to get the cash to pay back the two-million-dollar dowry I paid your family?" He leaned in, his breath hot against my face. "When your poverty-stricken parents were begging and requesting a million different things for that dowry, I paid it without a word. So don't act shocked now. You want out? Pay me back every single dime."

Before I could even process his words, the kitchen door swung open. My mother-in-law stormed into the dining room, her face twisted in pure rage, having overheard everything.

"A divorce?!" she screeched, her voice lashing out like a whip. "You stupid, ungrateful girl! I knew the moment you stepped into this house that you were nothing but a jinx. Where exactly will you go? Who would ever marry you now? You are nothing but worthless! My son married you out of pity, even though he knew you had absolutely nothing to offer this family except your worthless body!"

She turned to Draven, her finger shaking as she pointed it at me. "Draven, she left this house since morning and only just crawled back this evening! God knows what she was doing. I told you not to marry this woman back then, but you wouldn't listen to me! If you had married the daughter of the King family, you would have been set forever in the industry by now!"

Draven’s eyes narrowed into slits as he stared down at me, feeding off his mother’s venom. "You hear that, Ariel? You are jobless. You don't have a career, you don't have a degree, and you have nothing. You are absolutely *nothing* without me. You want to leave? Give me my two million dollars, or you stay right here on your knees and serve my food."

That night, the heavy silence of the house was broken only by the soft buzz of Ariel’s phone. It was a message from Martha, containing a link to a job vacancy at Flinch Tech. “Ariel, this is the breakthrough you need,” the text read. “It’s a high-level executive assistant role. Prepare your CV tonight. Don't waste a single second.”

Ariel didn't waste a second. Waiting until the house was completely dead silent, she quietly opened her laptop in the dark. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she carefully updated her credentials. Once it was ready, she crept like a ghost down the hallway and into Draven’s private study room. She held her breath, flinching at every tiny noise, as the printer whirred to life and secretly spat out the pages. Clutching the warm paper to her chest, she hurried back to her room, hiding it safely away.

The following morning, she woke up exceptionally early. She forced herself to prepare a full breakfast for the household, ensuring there would be no excuses for her mother-in-law to screech at her, before slipping out of the house unnoticed and setting out to Flinch Tech for the job interview.

Getting there, however, Ariel felt her confidence instantly vanish. The grand lobby was packed with other applicants, all of whom were master's degree holders, impeccably dressed in high-end corporate attire, and radiating pure assurance. Ariel looked down at her own clothes, suddenly feeling completely out of place.

Fear gripped Ariel's chest. The sight of these highly qualified women breaking down made her feel entirely out of her depth. She stood up, her legs shaking, and turned on her heel, decided to leave and abandon the opportunity entirely. But just as she reached the silver bank of elevators, Vincent’s chief assistant, Andrew, stepped out and called her name loudly.

"Ariel Lin? Mr. Lauren will see you now."

Her breath hitched. There was no turning back now.

Andrew led her down a long, sleek hallway and pushed open the heavy double doors to the sprawling penthouse office. Ariel took a step inside, but the sight waiting for her made her freeze in absolute shock.

Her breath hitched. There was no turning back.

She walked into the sprawling penthouse office, but the sight waiting for her made her freeze in absolute shock. A gorgeous woman was on her knees, actively sucking Vincent's dick while moaning loudly. Vincent was leaning back, completely unbothered. Ariel just stood there, completely surprised, her face burning as she didn't know whether to look away or run.

Seeing Ariel enter, Vincent didn't even blink. He coldly looked down at the woman at his crotch and asked his prostitute to excuse them. The woman quickly gathered her designer purse, wiped her mouth, and scurried out past Ariel, leaving a heavy, tense, and highly charged silence in the room.

Vincent calmly stood up, buttoned his trousers, and adjusted his suit. He gestured to the chair across from him and asked Ariel to sit.

He picked up her CV, starting to ask standard corporate questions, but his dark, piercing eyes didn't stay on the paper for long. What completely cut his attention was how noticeably swollen her breasts were under her blouse.

Vincent leaned forward across the desk, his dark gaze locking onto her chest with a predatory focus. "Are you breastfeeding?" he asked bluntly, completely discarding the corporate script.

At first, Ariel felt incredibly uncomfortable and violated by such an intimate, inappropriate question in a job interview. But knowing how desperately she needed a way out of her life, she swallowed her shame, looked him in the eye, and responded, "Yes."

Vincent just smiled a slow, knowing expression that sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned back in his chair. "If you work for me, Mrs. Lin, would you always be available when I call?" Vincent asked, his voice dripping with an implicit, dark demand. "According to your file, you are a married woman. Married women usually have structural distractions at home."

Ariel didn't flinch. "My husband and I are getting a divorce," she said, her voice tightening with a mixture of pain and resolve. "And also... I just lost my child."

Hearing this, Vincent froze. The smile faded from his lips, replaced by a dark, intense heat that flared deep in his midnight eyes. He couldn't take his eyes off her. The raw vulnerability rolling off her, combined with the full, heavy swell of her lactating breasts and the sheer desperation in her gaze, hit him like a physical wave. Beneath the mahogany desk, his cock was hardening rapidly, turning thick and rigid just by the mere look of her. Her tragedy made her the perfect, unattached vessel for exactly what his failing health required.

Suppressing the sudden, violent surge of lust that threatened to break his professional composure, Vincent abruptly closed her file, cutting the interview short.

He looked up at her, his voice tight, rough, and strained. "My assistant will get back to you if you are in."

The moment Ariel stood up from her chair, the office door clicked open. The prostitute from before slid back into the room, entirely unbothered, and immediately bypassed Ariel to sink back down to her knees beneath Vincent’s desk to continue her business. Vincent didn't even look at Ariel as she left; his eyes were already dark and fixed on the woman below him. Ariel hurried out of the penthouse, her face burning, and headed straight home.

But the transit was slow, and by the time she finally made it back, she was already incredibly late.

The moment she stepped through the front door, the heavy, suffocating aura of the house told her everything she needed to know. Draven was already home, waiting for her. He stood in the living room, his face twisted in a dark, ugly scowl as he checked his watch.

"Where the hell are you coming from?" Draven demanded, his voice echoing off the walls.

Ariel tried to keep her voice steady. "I was coming from Martha's place, we went out."

Daven scoffed, his eyes narrowing into slits. He completely refused to believe her. "Martha's place? For this long? Don't lie to me, Ariel. Who were you really out opening your legs for, who would want a married woman?"

Disgusted by his accusations and wanting to avoid any further discussion, Ariel turned her back on him and tried to walk away toward the stairs. Her silence only angered Draven further. In a flash of pure rage, he moved forward, grabbed her by the shoulder, and violently dragged her back.

Slap!

The force of his hand striking her face echoed through the quiet house. Ariel gasped, the impact pushing her clean off her feet and sending her crashing onto the hard floor. Her cheek burned with a sharp, stinging heat.

"You're nothing but a slut!" No man will want to sleep with an unattractive woman like you, Draven spat, looking down at her with complete contempt before turning on his heel and walking away into the living room.

Ariel lay on the floor for a long moment, the tears flowing down from her eyes, but she forced them back. She slowly stood up, wiping her face, and walked straight into the kitchen. Her body ached, but she began to prepare dinner. She cooked, plated the food, and dished it up perfectly on the dining table, trying to maintain whatever peace she could.

But Draven refused to eat a single bite of the food she made. Instead, he grabbed his coat, slammed the front door, and left the house to go straight to his mistress's place. His mistress was Charlotte, a woman who also worked right alongside Draven at his company a fact he barely even tried to hide anymore.

Left alone in the quiet house, Ariel pulled out her phone and called Martha, her voice shaking as she laid everything bare. She told her best friend everything that had happened at Flinch Tech, sighing deeply as she admitted that she might not even be hired because of how chaotic it was. She even detailed the shocking scene of how Vincent's prostitute was actively giving him a blowjob right in the middle of the interview room.

On the other end of the line, Martha laughed it off, trying to lighten the heavy mood. "Honestly, Ariel, these tech billionaires are all out of their minds. Don't worry about it. If you aren't hired, I'll just send another job vacancy your way tonight. We'll find something."

But before the call could even end, a loud notification popped up on the top of Ariel’s phone screen. It was an official email from Flinch Tech company.

Ariel’s breath hitched as she read the words: *Dear Mrs. Ariel, you have been hired for the position of Executive Personal Secretary. You are required to report to the company tomorrow morning by 10:00 AM sharp.*

"Martha! Oh my god!" Ariel gasped, her voice cracking with pure shock. She immediately told Martha the news, reading the email aloud while her friend was still on the call.

Hearing the high salary and the immediate start date, both of them instantly broke into a wild celebration over the phone. Martha was cheering so loudly Ariel had to pull the phone away from her ear, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across Ariel's face for the first time in months.

Ariel could not contain her joy. As she hung up the phone and looked around the empty, dark house, a profound sense of relief washed over her. The next moment Draven's mother walked over and told her she was disturbing the whole estate. " You foolish woman you husband left the house few hours ago and is still not back yet but you are not bothered by it at all, so what is making you to celebrate" Draven mother spat and worked out back to her room. That night, Draven never came home to sleep, staying tucked away in Charlotte's bed.