His Secretary Took Everything,Until I Took My Life Back

He couldn't bear to see me suffer, not even a little. He swore he'd shield me from every storm. But in the end, I gave up everything to stay home and take care of him, and all I became was the dead weight of a housewife dragging him down. He promised me shelter from the rain. Three years later, every storm I weathered was one he'd brought to my door. Bernice lifted her chin, her face full of haughty disdain. “Forget it, Mr. Morton. Your wife is too high and mighty to respect someone like me, someone who actually works for a living. My dignity won't survive this kind of treatment. I'll have my resignation on your desk by morning.” Sean's expression went cold. Whatever patience he had left was gone. He pulled out his phone, and the moment I saw the number he was dialing, the hospital where my mother was staying, I lunged for him. “I'll apologize.” I bit down so hard the inside of my cheek split open. I swallowed the taste of iron. “I'm sorry, Secretary Summers. I was out of line.” Bernice let out a soft scoff. “I'm not feeling the sincerity, Mrs. Morton.” I closed my eyes. My knees hit the floor. “You work so hard for this family. I was ungrateful.” Bernice smiled, satisfied. She glanced out the window at the rain hammering down in sheets, then gave her order as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Mr. Morton didn't get to finish earlier, so we'll need another two hours of overtime. Run to the shop on the East Side and pick up two boxes of the strawberry ultra-thins he likes.” The East Side was a forty-five-minute drive each way. Sean helped me to my feet. Something flickered behind his eyes, something that might have been guilt, but all he said was, “Hurry back.” Outside, the rain came down like a wall. I stood there, hands shaking, staring at the message Sean had sent. “Keeping employees happy is good for the company. It's for our future, babe. I knew my wife would understand. I'll have ginger tea waiting when you get home.” Right below it, a $52 Venmo transfer. “This is from my personal stash. Bernice doesn't know about it. Love you forever.” I accepted the transfer and stared at my account balance. Four hundred and ninety thousand dollars. I wiped my face and walked into the rain. By the time I got home, the house was empty. I dragged myself inside, water dripping off every inch of me. On the dining table sat a bowl of ginger tea, long since gone cold. I had just picked it up when a push notification lit up my phone. Bernice had posted on social media. A screenshot of a $520,000 bank transfer. A pair of first-class Swiss vacation packages. “Opportunity never disappoints those who hustle.” “Work is my passion. So grateful to my boss for the overtime bonus and performance reward.” The last photo was taken from behind, at the airport. Two people in matching outfits, fingers laced together. The wedding ring I had slipped onto Sean's finger myself, the one that had made him cry so hard he could barely speak, the one he'd kissed over and over like it was sacred, swearing he'd never take it off as long as he lived, had been replaced by a matching couple's ring with Bernice. I laughed softly. Then, face blank, I carried the bowl of ginger tea to the kitchen. Tilted my hand, and poured every last drop down the drain. After my shower, there was one more message from Sean on my phone. “Babe, an urgent project blew up and I have to fly out tonight to handle it. Take care of yourself. When I'm back we'll go visit your mom together. Love you.” I turned off my phone. No reply. That night, I drifted in and out of restless sleep, drowning in dreams. I dreamed of the year I turned twelve, when Sean crawled out of his stepfather's house half-dead, begging for help. My father went to save him. He was stabbed six times. He died on the spot. Sean held me while I sat there, hollow and shattered, his tears soaking into the crook of my neck. “Irene, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” In the early days of his startup, a failed investment left him cornered by creditors with nowhere to turn. My mother postponed her heart surgery and gave him every last dollar of my father's wrongful death settlement.

He was kneeling at my mother's bedside, holding my hand, tears streaming down his face. “Mom, I'm going to make enough money to fix your heart. And I'll make Irene the happiest bride in the world.” I opened my eyes, disoriented. More than half my pillow was soaked through. My chest felt hollowed out. The only thing I could feel was the tears running into the corners of my mouth. Salt and bitterness. My phone rang. The hospital. I fumbled to answer. “Ms. Thomas, your mother's condition has taken a sudden turn. You need to come right away.” The hospital corridors at that hour were deathly still. The doctor stopped me outside the operating room. “Her heart is at its limit. If we don't do a transplant soon, she won't last much longer.” I sagged against the wall, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely hold the phone, and still I dialed Sean's number again. And again. And again. He didn't pick up until the eighth call. “Sean, Mom's heart is giving out. I don't need much. Just ten thousand dollars……” Two seconds of silence on the other end. Then a bright, girlish laugh. “Mrs. Morton, Mr. Morton is in the shower. He doesn't have time for you.” I froze for two seconds, then forced words through my raw throat. “Secretary Summers, I'm requesting ten thousand dollars. My mother's heart can't hold out any longer and she needs surgery immediately. I'll sign an IOU with interest. Please, I'm begging you, approve it now.” “Oh, and why should I care?” Bernice's lazy laugh dripped with venom. “Some half-dead old hag trying to squeeze money out of Mr. Morton. Keeping a useless thing like you is already a loss. Now you want to drag along some old bag who won't die? You and your mother really have no shame at all.” “If you're really that desperate for cash, why don't you go sell yourself? You're a little old for it, sure, but do it enough times and you'll scrape the money together eventually.” Before I could say a word, the line went dead. I slid to the floor. The pain in my chest tore through me, but not a single tear would come. Close to dawn, my mother was finally wheeled out of surgery. The doctor spoke in a low voice. “We saved her for now, but she cannot take any more stress. Another episode and no one will be able to help her. You need to move forward with the heart transplant as soon as possible.” Back in the room, she was already awake. She reached out with calloused, trembling fingers and touched my face. “Why have you gotten so thin? Where's Sean? He hasn't visited in so long.” I pressed my cheek into her palm, fighting back tears. “He's arranging the surgery. Mom, they found a donor heart. We'll be able to operate soon.” She smiled. Every deep wrinkle on her face softened with relief. “As long as the two of you are doing well, that's all I need. Sean loves the smoked meat I make. I set some aside. Remember to bring it to him.” I bit down hard on my lip. “Okay.” Outside the room, I found the doctor. “Schedule me for a kidney donation.” Three days later, I got out of bed and went home to get a change of clothes. The second I pushed the door open, a brutal force slammed me into the wall. I couldn't keep my footing. The impact sent a sharp, searing pain ripping through the incision on my abdomen. Sean's voice came down on me like cracking ice. “Bernice told me everything. You used your mother's so-called emergency to demand a million dollars for surgery. She turned you down, and you cursed her out, told her to go die, told her to sell herself.” “So tell me. Without that million dollars, is your mother dead?” Very slowly, I turned my head. I stared at him, unable to comprehend what I was hearing. Stared at a man so blinded by a woman who lied with every breath that he looked ready to tear me apart like an animal. My mother could barely speak through her illness, and still she was thinking about his favorite food. And here he was, wishing her dead. The pain was a poisoned blade, flaying every nerve I had left, inch by inch. Beside him, Bernice let out a long, theatrical sigh and put on her most magnanimous voice. “Mr. Morton, let it go. She only cursed me out a little. I'm fine, really. But your wife demanding a million dollars just like that, when you work so hard for every penny? She just bleeds you dry. Honestly, it breaks my heart for you.”

“Maybe I should just resign. I'm clearly in your wife's way, and I'm afraid one of these days she'll have me killed for no reason at all.” I stared at that pitiful little act she was putting on. The memory of her voice on the phone, cursing my mother with every vile word she could muster, burned fresh in my mind. A cold laugh slipped out of me. “Do you dare come with me to check the call records?” “Mrs. Morton!” Bernice cut me off with a shriek. “I already let it go when you humiliated me. Why do you keep coming after me?” “Fine, fine, fine. I'm just a regular working girl. I can't afford to cross a rich wife like you. I'll scrape together every last cent I have and give you the million dollars, okay? I'm begging you, just let me go!” Her eyes rimmed red, and she made a show of pulling out her phone to transfer money. The next second, Sean pressed her hand down. He lifted his gaze to me. The coldness in his eyes could have drawn blood. “Irene, have I been too good to you? Is that why you've forgotten what you are?” A bank card hit me in the face. I glanced at it, and every drop of warmth drained from my body. It was the card I kept in the nightstand. The one I had just finished filling with enough money for my mother's surgery. “Bernice already looked into it. You're suspected of hiding marital assets. I've had the bank freeze the account.” My pupils shrank. The color bled from my face. “You can't do this. That money is for my mother's surgery. Her heart can't wait any longer.” “Enough.” Sean scoffed, brow furrowed. “I pay millions a year for a team of specialists to look after your mother. Her heart surgery could wait another year and she'd still be fine.” “If you're going to lie, at least come up with something believable. You're a real disappointment.” I stood frozen. A team of specialists? If he had visited the hospital even once, he would have known there was no team of specialists. I grabbed his arm. Tears poured out before I could stop them. “Sean, I'm begging you. I don't want anything else. Just give me back the money, please?” He looked down at my ashen face. Something in his eyes wavered for a fraction of a second. “Fine.” “Apologize to Bernice. Once she forgives you, I'll unfreeze it immediately.” The taste of blood filled my throat. I thought of my mother huddled under the blankets, curled in on herself from the pain, too afraid to make a sound because she didn't want me to worry. I closed my eyes. “I'm sorry.” Bernice tilted her head, all wide-eyed innocence. “What was that, Mrs. Morton? I couldn't quite hear you.” “I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was greedy. I was shameless. Please, forgive me.” She folded her arms and smiled, bored and amused. “Mrs. Morton, the emotional damage you've caused me is really quite severe. Just saying the words isn't going to cut it.” “Tell you what. Get on your knees and slap yourself for running your mouth. When I'm satisfied, I'll have the card unfrozen.” I looked up at Sean on instinct. This man, who once threw himself into a fight until he coughed blood because someone shoved me at a dinner. Right now, he stood there like a stranger who had nothing to do with any of it. “Irene, you really have been out of line. Bernice works herself to the bone for this family. Consider this a lesson. It's for your own good.” I lost count of how many times I slapped myself. My face swelled until I could barely open my eyes. I clutched my lower abdomen, drenched in cold sweat. Sean frowned, a vague sense that something was off crossing his features. He started to step forward, but Bernice hooked her arm through his. “Mr. Morton, I'm already exhausted from that business trip with you. Now I have to come back and deal with your family drama on top of it. My back is killing me from standing here.” Sean laughed and gave her waist a squeeze, pulling her toward the door. Before he left, he glanced back at me and tossed out a line like spare change. “Irene, Bernice wears herself out working for us. You should be grateful. I've already unfrozen the card.”

The door closed. My arms gave out beneath me and I collapsed to the floor. I curled into myself as tightly as I could. Every inch of my body screamed with pain, but my heart felt nothing at all, dead and still as stagnant water. I didn't know how long I lay there before I dragged myself up, grabbed the bank card, and stumbled out the door. I pushed open the hospital room door. My mother was propped against the headboard, her face ashen, her lips blue. On the television facing her bed, a video was playing: me, on my knees, slapping myself across the face. The camera cut to the master bedroom of the villa, where Sean and Bernice were tangled together, lost in each other. The audio played at full volume, every word razor-clear: “You old hag. Your daughter gets on her knees for me every day, begging like a dog, all because of you. You're nothing but a burden.” I was shaking from head to toe, about to call out to her. My mother clutched her chest and crumpled sideways. The heart monitor shrieked. I threw myself at the call button, slamming it over and over. Doctors rushed in. “Get her to the OR. Now.” As the gurney rolled past me, my mother caught my hand. Her voice came in broken fragments, barely sounds at all. “I'm sorry, sweetheart……” I couldn't breathe. Tears poured down my face. A doctor blocked my path before I could follow. “Ms. Thomas, you need to go pay for the surgery right now. Immediately.” I braced myself against the wall, fighting the blackness closing in at the edges of my vision, one hand pressed to my lower abdomen as I shoved the bank card through the payment window. One beep. Payment declined. The clerk frowned and slid the card back to me. “Ma'am, there are insufficient funds in this account.” I stood there. My mind went blank. My phone buzzed with a text. “Your account ending in 0808 has been charged $500,000. Remaining balance: $0.00.” A message from Sean came in right after. “Bernice liked a handbag. Happened to be $500,000. Consider it your way of making it up to her.” I called him back immediately. My voice shook so badly I could barely form words. “Sean, Mom is in emergency surgery. That was her surgery money!” “When are you going to get tired of that line? Bernice already called a specialist. Your mother's perfectly fine. She was out sunbathing by herself this morning.” He let out a long, weary sigh, like a parent scolding an unreasonable child. “Enough. Stop making a scene. Bernice's dog is sick. She's upset, and I need to be with her.” The line went dead. I called again. The number was no longer reachable. My phone rang again and I answered, head bowed. “Ms. Thomas, the payment confirmation never came through. The donor heart has been claimed by another party. I'm very sorry. Your mother was just declared brain dead.” I stood where I was. The world tipped and spun around me. Two nurses passed nearby, their conversation drifting over. “Did you hear? There's a dog in the VIP suite on the top floor. Supposedly had a heart problem, and someone insisted on giving it a donor heart that an old woman had been waiting years for. The organ rejected immediately and went necrotic. A human heart in a dog. How could that ever work? And the poor woman missed it by five minutes.” “Keep your voice down. That's the wife of the Morton Group CEO up there. He treats her like she's made of gold. We can't afford to cross them.” I stood there for a while. Then I turned and walked upstairs. Sean had his arm around Bernice. They were playing with a Toy Poodle that was bouncing around, perfectly healthy. He looked mildly surprised to see me. “Good timing. Beanie has indigestion. You've got experience with this sort of thing. From now on, you'll be Beanie's caretaker.” My breathing stopped for half a beat. “Just indigestion?” Bernice smiled, something unreadable in her eyes. “That's right. False alarm, thank goodness. Too bad it wasted a perfectly good donor heart. Who knows which poor unlucky soul took the hit for my little Beanie.” Sean said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If the other person couldn't afford the surgery, dying is their own fault.” I lowered my eyes and, without warning, smiled. The fruit knife I'd hidden behind my back swung out in a vicious arc. Bernice screamed and scrambled away. Sean was half a second too slow. The blade caught his arm, and he stared at me in shock. “Have you lost your mind? You'd kill someone over five hundred thousand dollars?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “I did come here to kill someone. But you two aren't worth dirtying my hands.” Sean went rigid. He met my eyes and saw the finality there, the hatred, and something clicked. His pupils contracted to pinpoints. He lunged forward with a raw, terrified scream. “No!” Too late. I gripped the knife, aimed it at my own chest, and drove it in.