Making the CEO Kneel and Beg: I won’t Let Him Control Me!

"Holy shit!"

"Ray, what's wrong--"

"Val, get back in the car! Nothing happened tonight!"

The memory kept replaying in my mind, the night I lost my two-week-old baby and shattered bones in my body. The driver of the car was none other than my baby’s father, Raymond Forge. Anger simmered, deepening into silent hatred as I learned the truth that night: he’d been out for dinner with his beloved self-appointed assistant, Val.

My Ray of Light: [Get back as soon as the doctor discharges you. I need you to oversee a proposal draft. I’ve paid the hospital bills.]

That was the last text Raymond sent, after a long lecture about 'me' getting into an accident.

He never came to the hospital.

He didn’t even know the woman he hit was me.

He didn’t know he’d killed his own child.

‘My Ray of Light'. How foolish I was to think he’d ever change, that he’d ever truly love me.

*

The night I returned to the usually empty apartment I’d shared with Raymond for the last five years, I had to laugh at the sight of a giant bra cup tossed on the couch. Definitely not mine—and easy enough to guess it belonged to a certain Val.

I threw it into the trash can in the bedroom, then carefully sat on the edge of the bed, mindful of my broken arm in its sling.

“Mr. Phoenix, forgive me for calling so late. I’ve made up my mind to accept your company’s offer,” I said once my call connected.

“Yes! When will you be joining us, Purple Hat?” he paused, then chuckled. “And please, call me Jake—like old times. No need to be so formal.”

“You knew?” I narrowed my eyes at the name. I had expected him to find out.

I only heard laughter from the other hand of the phone.

“Anyway,” A small smile crept onto my face. “I’ll be moving to Bergcastle in about a week, Jake. I’ll start by the fifth of next month.”

“Noted! I’ll send over a contract. And if you need any help with the move, just give me a call, okay?” With that, Jake ended the call.

Just seconds later, I heard footsteps approaching. The slightly ajar door nudged open, and Raymond stepped in, phone in hand, his attention glued to the screen.

“Oh, you’re back already,” he said, finally noticing me. His eyes stayed on the screen, his smile unmistakable—a dead giveaway he was texting Val.

“Who were you on the phone with?” he asked, not bothering to look up from his screen.

“Mr. Phoenix,” I replied plainly, with no attempt to hide anything.

“I see.” He stepped further in, removing his tie and jacket, still half-absorbed in whatever was on his phone, then headed toward the bathroom.

I exhaled slowly, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. He hadn’t heard a word I’d said—because if he had, he’d have caught that I was talking to the Phoenix, CEO of his rival company. He hadn’t even asked about the cast and sling on my left arm. But for the first time, his indifference felt like a kind of freedom, strengthening my resolve to leave him.

Just then, Raymond poked his head out from the bathroom door, frowning. “Where’s my towel and bathrobe?”

I guessed he was irritated because I usually had them laid out before he got home. But before I could respond, his ringtone chimed from inside the bathroom, and his frown softened, a flicker of excitement lighting up his face.

“Never mind. I’ll find them myself,” he said, disappearing back inside. He hurried to the shelf beside the bathroom, grabbing what he needed in a rush.

I shrugged and turned my attention to my phone, drafting my resignation letter.

Time passed. The clock on my phone read 2:15 a.m. by the time I finished the draft, yet Raymond still hadn’t come out of the bathroom.

God knows what he was up to.

As I leaned back onto the bed, careful not to jostle my broken arm, I realized just how drained I felt. The scenes from the hospital replayed in my mind, as vivid as if I’d just hit "replay."

I remembered the moment Dr. Wayne broke the news about my miscarriage on my third day awake. He’d been so gentle, probably hoping a husband or family member would come by to support me. But since I hadn’t told my parents about the accident, and my boyfriend—not even a husband—never showed up, Dr. Wayne had to tell me directly.

The memory left me feeling hollow. Tonight, I didn’t cry, but the weight of losing my baby before it even had a chance to live was still crushing. Even as I scrolled through my secret Tattle account out of habit, the grief pressed down on me, relentless.

Just then, I spotted Raymond’s latest post: a picture of a table with wine glasses, half-empty plates, and a sparkling city view beyond the window.

[“Sorry for the last-minute change. Not quite fine dining, but I hope the wine dinner makes up for it. A sudden meeting came up, and I’d hate to let down my loyal assistant after promising dinner.”]

So that was why he’d spent all that time in the bathroom tonight.

My phone buzzed with a new notification—an email from Jacob Phoenix. I opened it and found a link to the digital contract at the bottom. Without hesitation, I clicked through and reviewed the terms, signing once I’d skimmed over them.

Jake had tailored the contract according to our previous conversation—to my surprise. I’d handle further negotiations about my working conditions once I crossed that bridge. Right now, my only priority was leaving Raymond’s company and freeing myself from all of...

this.