Take the Money and Leave My Man Alone

"Stop right there!" Scott's low voice rang out, his handsome face now marred with thinly veiled disgust and anger. "Michele, don't make me hate you even more."

At those words, Michele froze in her tracks.

Her eyes, red and swollen, were brimming with sorrow, humiliation, and an unwillingness to accept defeat. Yet, she ultimately gave in, deflating like a punctured balloon.

Gritting her teeth, her voice filled with stubbornness and pure anger, she declared, "In this lifetime, the only wife you will have is me, Michele! No other woman should even think about it!"

With that, she spun on her heel, feigning composure, though her steps were unsteady as she staggered away.

As Michele's footsteps faded into the distance, a pang of disappointment tugged at me. However, I remained composed, aware that this was just the beginning of a long journey filled with more thrilling encounters ahead.

The moment Michele disappeared, Scott immediately got off the bed and put a deliberate distance between us. I mirrored his actions, standing by the bedside.

With his back to me, Scott's voice was tinged with frustration as he growled, "Get out! You're just—"

But before he could complete his sentence, condemning me to merely being his secretary, I had already turned and dashed out of the room.

Scott was left stunned, slowly turning as his gaze followed my swift departure. A flicker of exasperation crossed his face, his lips twitching silently at my abrupt exit.

…

The next morning, as I stepped out of my small, rented apartment, a van screeched to a halt right in front of me.

Before I could react, two men in black suits emerged, one on either side. Without a word, they grabbed my arms and shoved me toward the open van door.

Panic surged through me as I demanded, "Who are you? Why did you catch me?"

One of the men sneered coldly, "Hmph! Do you think you're the first woman to try and seduce our boss? You're playing with fire if you think your little tricks can be hidden from the lady of the house."

'The lady of the house? Is he talking about Michele?' My mind raced.

It had only been yesterday that I escorted the intoxicated Scott back to the Langley Residence before making my exit.

If Michele decided to investigate my whereabouts, she would quickly discover my visit. 'Have I been found out before I even made my move? Shit! I've been too careless!'

…

To my surprise, however, the men drove me to a cafe.

There, in the cafe, sat Michele, lounging back in her chair with one leg crossed over the other.

She glanced at me haughtily and commanded in a tone that brooked no argument, "Sit!"

I frowned slightly, a brief hesitation flickering through my thoughts. Before I could organize them, a firm shove from behind sent me stumbling forward.

I landed awkwardly on the chair opposite Michele with a thud, looking utterly disheveled.

"Ha!" Michele let out a soft scoff, lifting her coffee cup for a slow, deliberate sip before fixing her gaze back on me.

"Tell me, how much money will it take for you to leave Mr. Langley?" she asked with haughty disdain.

My heart clenched at the bluntness of her query, but I maintained my composure, careful not to betray any emotion.

"Mrs. Langley, I think you've misunderstood. I'm just Mr. Langley's secretary. There's nothing personal between us."

I wasn't lying. Currently, I was indeed flirting with Scott. Though his instincts were clearly aroused, he hadn't fully taken my bait yet.

"So—"

Before I could finish, a card flew through the air and struck my face with its sharp edge, slicing a stinging pain across my cheek.

I was shocked by Michele's brazenness, especially going so far as to humiliate me in public.

"Ha! A woman like you, clinging to whatever beauty you have left, throwing yourself at any man with money and power. Isn't that exactly what you are? A gold digger?"

Michele's fingers intertwined as she leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her chin resting on her knuckles.

She glared at me, her rosy lips moving with a sharp, cutting tone as she commented, "There's 10 million in this card. No matter how skilled you are at making money, you'd never earn this much on your own, even if you sleep with countless men."

Her voice rose, and she did not bother to keep it down. "Adrianna Nanami, why don't you just nicely take the money and get out of my sight?"

Around us, the other customers turned their attention our way. Mocking gazes landed on me as whispers began to circulate and fingers rudely pointed in my direction.

I Will Not Let History Repeat Itself

My blood ran cold.

I kept my head lowered, my fingers absently rubbing the handle of my coffee cup. Then, suddenly, my grip tightened, and a cold gleam flickered in my eyes.

'Who does Michele think she is? Just some shameless woman throwing herself at a man, desperate for attention, fawning over someone who doesn't care about her.

'Without my son's heart, she wouldn't be alive today,' I mused. 'And she has the nerve to come here and humiliate me? On what grounds?'

My fingertips clutched the cup's handle more tightly than ever, and the temptation to fling the hot coffee straight into Michele's smug face was overwhelming.

But I knew that the time was not right, and for now, I had to endure.

After what felt like an eternity, I released my grip on the cup.

I slowly picked up the bank card that had been lying on the table between us.

Calmly, I pushed it back across to her, put on an innocent expression, and said, "Mrs. Langley, you've got it all wrong. There's nothing between me and Mr. Langley. It's just a professional relationship. That's all."

I feigned confusion, my tone almost pitying as I commented, "Why be so paranoid? Do you not have any confidence in yourself?"

Michele hadn't expected me to be so unyielding and composed. She was visibly caught off guard.

Her face twisted with barely restrained fury as she muttered, "Adrianna, you'd better watch yourself!"

She grabbed the card and, without another word, stormed out.

…

After leaving the cafe, I walked along the streets alone, my brows furrowed deep in thought. 'Michele's suspicions are mounting. What should I do now? I needed to secure my position with Scott quickly, but how?'

Lost in my contemplations, I was suddenly jolted back to reality by the roar of a vehicle, causing me to flinch.

Instinctively, I turned toward the source of the noise.

At the far end of the street, near the intersection, a big truck was barreling toward me.

A light-bulb moment struck me.

'Scott's first love had died in a car crash, right? Hit by a speeding vehicle, her life had ended in a sudden, violent tragedy.' I thought to myself.

Hence, I was left with no choice but to gamble on this.

With my mind made up, I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed Scott.

"Adrianna, why aren't you at work?" Scott's voice came through.

"Mr. Langley!" My voice trembled, weak and shaky as if I were on the verge of tears. "Just now, Mrs. Langley had her men drag me to a cafe. She threw a bank card in my face and told me to take it and disappear from your life.

"I tried to explain to her that it was all a misunderstanding, but she wouldn't believe me. She even warned me to be careful. And I—"

Before I could finish the sentence, I was interrupted by the sharp roar of a truck's engine.

Then, all I could hear was my own terrified scream. "Ah!"

My body was hurled through the air like a ragdoll, everything fading to black as the phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the ground.

From the phone, Scott's anxious voice echoed faintly, growing more distant with every second. "Adrianna? Adrianna!"

…

I woke up to find myself lying in a hospital bed.

I sucked in a gasp of pain.

Just the thought of moving sent waves of pain through every inch of my body.

"Don't move!" The deep, commanding voice startled me, and then I felt a strong arm wrap gently but firmly around my weak shoulders, preventing me from sitting up.

The heat of his body was unmistakable as it seeped into me, and I was momentarily too stunned to react before I looked up.

His face, etched with concern, hovered into view. A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. "Mr. Langley…" My voice broke with emotion.

As I looked up at him, tears filled my eyes. My lips quivered, and I felt as vulnerable as a frightened deer. "That truck… It came right at me. I thought… I thought I was going to die."

"Mr. Langley, I'm so scared! Mrs. Langley… She'll never let me go." My voice trembled as I clung tightly to his suit.

My pitiful expression was designed to evoke protective instincts, particularly given my resemblance to his deceased lover.

He hesitated, but only for a moment. His hand, rough yet gentle, traced the curve of my cheek with pity.

"She won't," he murmured, his voice laden with emotion. "I won't let the same thing happen again."

The word 'again' hung heavy in the air, carrying with it an unspoken meaning. It seemed he sought to compensate for the regret he harbored over his previous lover by transferring his affections to me.

If it meant reclaiming my son's heart, I was willing to become a substitute for someone who had died long ago.

Without hesitation, I collapsed into his arms and wrapped myself around his sturdy waist.

His breathing grew ragged, his emotions finally stirring.

His hand, previously still, became restless and began to reach for my collar.

Just then, the door to the ward slammed open with a bang, and Michele burst in.

Scott Protected Me

"Ah!" In a swift, instinctive motion, I ducked behind Scott, my expression the picture of a frightened little deer seeking refuge.

"What are you doing here?" Scott's earlier warmth vanished, replaced by an icy indifference as he fixed Michele with a sharp gaze.

Without a moment's hesitation, he positioned himself between us, his arms wrapping protectively around me.

Michele's face contorted with fury when she saw that, her knuckles whitening as she clenched her fists. "Adrianna! You wretched—" Her voice cracked, thick with rage.

Scott's face darkened, and his voice was cold and cutting as he ordered, "Michele, apologize to Adrianna now."

I could hardly believe it. He wasn't holding back at all. He offered Michele no dignity, no escape.

Her face paled, and her voice, shrill and trembling with disbelief, rang out. "Why should I apologize to that shameless woman? She's the one who seduced you—"

"Shut up!" Scott's sharp retort sliced through her accusation before she could finish. "Is this the kind of upbringing the Finnen Family gave you? Is this how they taught you to behave?"

"Apologize," he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Did you not hear me?"

From behind Scott, I peeked through the small space between his shoulders and watched Michele with cold detachment.

A flicker of provocation sparked in my eyes, but my voice shook with feigned timidity when I spoke. "Mr. Langley, it's all my fault. I upset Mrs. Langley. Please, don't argue with her because of me."

Women possessed an exceptional knack for detecting sarcasm, especially when laced with false humility. My carefully crafted performance only served to inflame Michele's anger further.

With a sharp intake of breath, she spat, "Adrianna, shut up!"

Scott's face grew even colder, his disdain evident. "Michele, don't make me say it a third time. Apologize!"

Rage coursed through Michele's veins, but faced with Scott's stern, icy stare, she had no choice but to curb her anger reluctantly. With a forced lowering of her head, she muttered, "Adrianna, I'm sorry."

I peeked out from behind Scott's arm with an exaggerated gesture of meekness. "Oh no, Mrs. Langley, you don't need to apologize. It's my fault, all of it."

Her face hardened, her eyes turning into sharp daggers fixed on me.

"You can leave!" Scott commanded, his back turned to her in dismissal. His tone was frighteningly cold.

Michele's face twitched, her emotions a whirlwind of anger and restraint.

Remembering her true purpose for the visit, she managed to soften her expression. "Tomorrow," she began, her voice carefully steady, "there's a charity auction held by the city. All the major families will be attending. We've also received an invitation."

"It's at 8.30AM tomorrow," she added, her voice lower but firm, "Don't forget. We need to go together."

Despite the chill in their marriage, Michele was a woman driven by her vanity.

In public, she strived to maintain a facade of affection and harmony with Scott, which was why their appearance at the charity auction was essential.

"I understand," Scott replied after a pause, his tone calm and almost detached.

His willingness to cooperate was influenced by the opportunity to bolster his reputation among the upper-class society—an advantage he wouldn't easily dismiss.

Relieved by his compliance, Michele exhaled deeply. Before storming off, she shot one last venomous glare my way, her eyes sharp and filled with animosity.

I met her glare with a half-smile, feigning innocence. I had managed to make her reach the height of fury without even lifting a finger.

Thank goodness for Michele's timely intervention, which had distracted Scott from any lingering thoughts he might have held about me.

Though struck by a truck earlier, I emerged miraculously with only scrapes and bruises—a stroke of luck indeed.

The doctors monitored me for a few hours before they finally consented to my discharge.

Contrary to my expectations of being sent back to the employee dorms, Scott had other plans.

He instructed his driver to take me to one of his private villas, seeking to shield me from prying eyes as if I were some secret treasure he needed to protect.

…

As night enveloped the sky, Scott arrived at the villa.

I had just emerged from the shower, my long, jet-black hair still carrying droplets of water, my skin softer than usual.

The strap of my nightgown struggled to stay in place, occasionally slipping off my shoulder to reveal more than intended, exposing the curve of my collarbone.

There was a tinge of sadness etched on my face. This perfect blend of elegance and vulnerability was a combination holding a fatal allure for any man.

Seeing me in such a state, Scott visibly swallowed hard.

Without uttering a single word, he crossed the room and sat beside me on the couch.

He put an arm around my shoulders gently, and, in a very careful and soft voice, he asked, "What's wrong? You look upset."

I looked up at him with my clear, dark eyes and whispered, "Mr. Langley, I'm scared."