“Dr. Burnell, your live-in treatment contract with Sir Stuart only has half a month left. Will you be renewing as usual?”

Stuart Huggett’s assistant called, the question phrased routinely, yet his tone carried a certainty—as if he already knew she would agree.

On the other end of the line, Michelle Burnell sat in silence, her eyes fixed on the resignation letter glowing faintly on her computer screen.

Five years’ worth of memories as Stuart’s private psychologist rose unbidden, crowding her mind.

At last, she closed her eyes. In a steady voice, she said quietly, “No. I won’t be renewing.”

There was a pause until the assistant asked cautiously, “Is this because of Miss Janet, Doctor? Please don’t worry. Even though Sir Stuart is about to marry her, your official identity is still only that of his ‘personal assistant.’ Miss Janet shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

A small, self-deprecating laugh escaped Michelle. She repeated her decision with calm finality, and then she hung up.

What a coincidence. In just half a month, their contract would end, and Stuart would marry Janet Brewsters.

That five-year illusion of a rescue she had carried alone was at last coming to its end.

Perhaps, she ought to feel happy for him. After all, Janet was his first love.

But no matter how Michelle tried, she couldn’t forget what he had been five years ago—shattered and self-destructive after Janet betrayed him with his own brother.

At the time, Michelle was at the peak of her career, her name rising prominently in the field of psychology.

When Berenice, his mother, approached her, she had every intention of refusing.

But then, she caught sight of Stuart’s photograph in the case file.

That reminded her of when she was seventeen. One night, she had been thrown out of her home, drenched by rain, and abandoned on the roadside. A stranger had walked by, lifted an umbrella, and shielded her from the storm. That blurred face in the rain gradually overlapped with the one in Stuart's photo.

Seeing how the boy from her past had fallen into such despair and hearing his mother’s desperate pleas, Michelle eventually gave in.

Only, it turned out Stuart had long since forgotten her.

He pushed her away, resisted every attempt she made to help him, and decided she was nothing more than a hypocrite—a so-called saint paid to spy on him.

Michelle never argued back. Instead, she reached for the blade when he cut his skin, persisted when he starved himself of food and water, and stayed by his side when his nights were restless, coaxing him until he slept. Day after day, year after year, she helped him without complaint.

By the fourth year, his condition finally stabilized. She proposed leaving. For the first time, his indifference cracked—his eyes reddened.

And then, to her shock, he began to blur the boundaries.

Though she reminded him over and over that a psychologist must never have intimate relations with a patient, Stuart ignored every word. He pushed, coaxed, and invaded the line she drew.

It disturbed her so much that she even considered transferring his case to a colleague, but he interfered until her attempts went nowhere.

The chaos dragged on for nearly a year. She held her ground, but her heart wavered.

And then, Janet returned to the country.

Only then did Michelle realize just how foolish she had been.

Five years of devotion, all the sleepless nights, all the effort—none of it could withstand one simple sentence from Janet.

“I’m back.”

Michelle had thought she was the one pulling him out of the shadows. But in truth, he had only accepted treatment as a way to force himself to forgive Janet.

All that had stirred the psychologist’s feelings before was nothing more than Stuart seeing her as useful and doing whatever it took to keep her around.

These past few weeks had been proof enough.

With Janet by his side, Stuart let Michelle see firsthand what true intimacy looked like, no matter the hour, no matter the setting, sometimes even right in front of her face.

Now that the wedding day of the two drew near, Michelle understood her role clearly. She was nothing more than a stepping stone. It was time she moved out of their way.

All she wished was that, after their wedding in two weeks, Stuart would be too busy to spare a thought for her—his ‘live-in assistant.’

Her thoughts were interrupted by a new message notification. The sender was Janet.

[Come pack my luggage. I’m leaving with Stuart this afternoon for a business trip.]

For weeks now, Janet had used Michelle like a servant… with Stuart’s silent approval.

Michelle knew exactly why—Janet couldn’t stand to see another woman near him. The former didn’t argue. She just did the work and collected her salary.

By the time she arrived, Janet was sprawled playfully across Stuart’s lap.

Spotting her, Janet didn’t bother hiding her smugness. She looked at Stuart with an exaggeratedly sweet smile.

“Babe, your assistant really is like a housemaid, isn’t she? Always at your beck and call, never once showing an attitude. No wonder you’ve kept her around so long.”

The barb was obvious. Michelle caught every word, along with Stuart’s low chuckle of agreement.

Her chest tightened faintly—not quite pain but enough to leave her silent.

When she finished packing their things, she turned to leave.

But Stuart stopped her. “Come with us.”

The command was familiar—after years, she should have been numb to it. Yet this time it grated, sharp and unwelcome.

Catching the jealous glint in Janet’s eyes, Michelle’s irritation grew. ‘As always, this guy only ever thinks of himself,’ she thought.

Still, to keep from stirring suspicion and to make it through the remaining weeks, she once again relented.

At the airport, she trailed behind them, struggling with three heavy suitcases while the couple walked hand-in-hand, unburdened.

In the VIP lounge, Janet leaned lazily against Stuart’s shoulder and ordered Michelle, “Go get me a hot Americano.”

Stuart glanced at Michelle. “She likes it hotter than usual. Don’t forget the sleeve.”

Lowering her eyes, Michelle swallowed the sour taste in her throat and turned away.

She returned with the coffee, the cardboard sleeve barely shielding her hand from the heat. Holding it out carefully, she warned, “It’s very hot. Don’t take it. I’ll set it down for you.”

But Janet insisted on grabbing it. The moment her fingers brushed the cup, she let go with a startled cry.

Scalding liquid splashed across Michelle’s hand and forearm, burning her skin red. Pain seared so sharply her breath faltered, her eyes instantly filling with tears.

Janet, of course, wasn’t touched. Stuart had shielded her in time.

He turned, his gaze cutting coldly at Michelle.

“Were you satisfied only after burning her? If you keep being so careless, then stop working altogether. Get lost.”

Stunned by the accusation, Michelle stood frozen. He had seen everything. He knew Janet had done it deliberately. Yet still… he laid the blame on her!

The bitterness welled up so hard it almost choked her. She lowered her head. Silent tears fell, landing on the carpet where no one else would notice.

Perhaps it was a blessing. The deeper Stuart loved Janet, the easier it would be for Michelle to escape.

She thought of his words again. Her lips parted to speak, and this time, her voice was steady.

“Okay.”

Stuart frowned, as though unsure he’d heard correctly. “What did you say?”

Still staring at the floor, Michelle raised her voice a little.

“I said—I quit. Sir Stuart, I resign. I’ll leave on my own.”

When Michelle spoke those words, she had already braced herself for the consequences—even if it meant paying the penalty for breaking the contract, she was determined to walk away.

But just at that critical moment, a staff member rushed over, inserting herself between them.

“Ma’am, do you need any help? Why don’t I take you to get this taken care of first?”

Her resolve, so fierce a second ago, faltered. Letting out a soundless sigh, Michelle turned and followed the staff away.

As they tended to her, she stared at her reddened arm, covered in marks and bruises—remnants left behind by Stuart.

And when her mind replayed the image of him earlier, shielding Janet with such nervous protectiveness, the sense of contrast cut Michelle even deeper. Everything felt different now, and she could only laugh at herself for being so pitiful.

By the time she returned to the lounge, her boarding time had already passed.

She thought perhaps that spared her from following any further. Yet Leo, Stuart’s assistant, sent a message. It was a reminder that, in no uncertain terms, she had to go.

Reading the implicit threat between the lines, Michelle closed her eyes. Her fingernails dug deep into her palms before finally loosening in helpless surrender.

After a long round of delays and setbacks, she finally made it.

That night, weighed down by unspoken worries, with her arm throbbing and her head heavy, she finally felt a trace of drowsiness. But just as sleep was about to claim her, a message from Janet popped up.

[Go buy emergency contraceptives. Bring them to my room immediately.]

It started again. This was always how Janet liked to assert her dominance—her claim over Stuart.

‘But really, who am I to threaten her? After all, as everyone said, I’m nothing more than a glorified assistant, nanny, and housekeeper.’

Thinking that, Michelle drew in a deep breath.

“Half a month. That’s all that’s left. Just ten-odd days. Better to avoid unnecessary trouble.”

When she returned with the pills, Stuart and Janet still weren’t finished.

The message she sent to inform them went unanswered. She stood quietly outside their room, unbothered by the ambiguous sounds drifting out from within. Her gaze, instead, fixed on the items she had carefully prepared for Stuart—tossed carelessly outside the door.

For years, Stuart had battled severe insomnia, and Michelle had become his so-called “human sleeping pill.”

But she had no miraculous ability. It was simply her genuine devotion—her painstaking effort in tending to every small detail.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp… The cedar-scented candle he favored… Even the sleep-aid essential oils she had searched tirelessly to find.

Now, with Janet back at his side and their broken relationship seemingly mended, those things no longer held any value in his eyes.

Lowering her gaze, Michelle was about to leave the pills outside and quietly slip away when the door suddenly swung open.

Before she could react, Janet slapped her hard across the face. Stuart leaned lazily against the bed, watching.

“What are you doing standing out here? Eavesdropping on us?” Janet sneered.

Without waiting for an answer, she yanked Michelle into the room, snatched the pills from her hands, and turned the situation around with a feigned look of shock.

“Contraceptives? Stuart, see? I told you this woman had ulterior motives—she can’t stand to see us happy!”

Michelle merely looked at her calmly, her expression unreadable. Out of old habits, her mind almost slipped into clinical assessment.

‘Is Janet suffering from anxious attachment? Jealous delusions? Or perhaps, like Stuart, a paranoid personality?’

Her thoughts were cut short when Stuart finally spoke.

“Apologize to her.”

Michelle froze, staring at him in disbelief. But there he was, his arm wrapped tenderly around Janet, his voice soft as he soothed her.

When Michelle remained silent, his eyes hardened with impatience, his tone turning cold as he repeated, “I told you to apologize to her.”

Seeing the smug triumph on Janet’s face, Michelle couldn’t stop herself from whispering a rebuttal.

“She was the one who sent me here. She asked me to buy the contraceptive. Why should I apologize?”

The only answer she received was the heavy object Stuart hurled at her.

The ashtray struck her squarely on the forehead. The force sent her sprawling to the floor as her skull rang with a deafening buzz.

“Get out,” Stuart’s voice came sharp and low. “Don’t be an eyesore here.”

Blood trickled down, blurring her vision, yet she could still make out Stuart’s figure—holding Janet close, speaking to her in gentle reassurance after the loud crash had startled her. His concern, his tenderness, was all directed solely at her.

Not once did he look at Michelle.

Her heart clenched painfully, as if someone were squeezing the very breath out of her chest.

But in the end, she forced herself to rise, and without a single glance back, she left the room.

That night, Michelle boarded a flight back to Maryland.

The moment she landed, she contacted the institution that backed her and reported that Stuart wanted to terminate the contract ahead of schedule.

Since Stuart had already told her several times to “get lost,” of course, she had no choice but to accept it.

However, the response from her liaison left her with a nagging sense that things weren’t as straightforward as she imagined.

When she arrived at the institution, that uneasy feeling only grew stronger. Her colleagues were all looking at her with strange expressions. Even Alfred Afrin—her mentor, who was usually kind and gentle with her—had a stiff expression.

His face was drawn tight as he said seriously, “Dr. Burnell. Come with me to the office.”

Her chest tightened with unease. Her instincts told her this had to be connected to Stuart and Janet.

Sure enough, once Michelle and Alfred were behind closed doors, he asked bluntly, “What exactly is your relationship with Mr. Huggett?”

“I’m his contracted therapist,” Michelle answered truthfully.

But her mentor’s face fell, laced with disappointment.

“Still refusing to be honest? Take a look at this yourself!”

Her mentor opened an email that had been blasted out to the entire staff. The instant she read the subject line, her heart seized.

[McMullen Medical Scandal: Dr. Michelle Burnell Exposed as a Mistress, See Exclusive Footage of the Affair!]

When she clicked play, the video showed the scene from the hotel last night—Janet striking her, her being hit with an object—captured secretly without audio.

But combined with that damning headline, the implication was clear.

‘No wonder everyone at the institution has been whispering about me. It has to be Janet’s doing!’

“Dr. Afrin, this isn’t what it looks like, I—” Michelle began to explain.

But her mentor cut her off.

“Dr. Burnell, whether I believe you or not doesn’t matter anymore. This email has already been maliciously sent to everyone. The entire institution has seen it. Who knows how long before someone leaks it further? To control the risk, I have no choice but to suspend all your work. I hope you understand.”

Michelle wanted to argue but forced them back down.

She knew how serious this matter was. A psychologist entangled with a patient—worse yet, accused of being a third party in someone’s relationship—was enough to destroy her career if it spread. If this stigma stuck, everything she had worked for would be over.

Still, how could she not feel bitter?

She spent decades studying, nearly ten years of hard work to finally establish herself here.

Now, thanks to Janet’s false accusations, all her years of effort were on the verge of being wiped out.

Why?

There was no reason, and no one to tell her otherwise

When she walked out of the institution, colleagues she once got along with avoided her as if she carried a plague.

And then, out of all people, Stuart sent her a message—asking her to come back.

Perfect timing. She had been wanting to confront them anyway.

When she stepped into Stuart’s home again, sure enough, Janet was right there with him.

Projected across the living room screen was the very same video Michelle had seen that morning at the institution.

The moment she appeared, Janet sneered and was the first to speak.

“Well, look who dared to show her face. The homewrecker herself.”

This time, Michelle didn’t hold back. She fired back coldly, “I never interfered in your relationship. If anything, Miss Janet, it seems you’ve had far too much time on your hands lately.”

Janet’s face twisted with rage. She raised her hand to strike, but Michelle sidestepped neatly.

Corner a rabbit and it would bite. How much more so when the career she’d built, the one thing she treasured above all, was on the brink of destruction thanks to them?

“Enough,” Stuart interjected suddenly. “Arguing over this useless matter—what’s the point?”

What’s the point?

Of course, it was meaningless to them. To people like Stuart and Janet, what she valued was nothing at all.

But at least, right now, he should be more desperate than she was.

After all, even though he had a privileged background, he was still an illegitimate son, always at a disadvantage among his peers.

If word got out that his mental state was unstable—that he had needed five years of continuous therapy—the blow to him would be far more devastating than what she faced.

As expected, the very next moment, Stuart coaxed Janet softly, “Let me handle this, okay? I need a word with her alone.”

Without waiting, Michelle stepped into the consultation room where she had spent years giving him therapy.

Stuart followed soon after, just like he always had in the past.

But this time, to her shock, he came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

“Don’t move,” he murmured. “You haven’t been around lately. I haven’t been able to sleep. Let me hold you for a while first.”