My mom's cancer had come back. And I needed 40,000 dollars to save her.

It took every ounce of courage I had to go to Miguel Peaden—my secret multimillionaire boyfriend for ten years—and ask him for help.

But he just tapped his fingers arrogantly on his desk.

"You think my money grows on trees? Just because you ask, I'm supposed to hand you 40,000 like it's nothing?

"That's enough. You can go now—I have another meeting coming up."

Then he motioned for his secretary to escort me out of his office.

I looked at the man sitting in that luxurious office and gave a bitter smile before calling the only person willing to give me 40,000 dollars.

"You once said that if I married you, you'd give me 40,000 dollars as a wedding gift. Does that still stand?"

***

His voice was low and steady. "Kylie, forget 40,000—I'd give you my life. I've waited ten years for you."

"Alright. In seven days, once my mom is out of the ICU, I'll marry you."

After hanging up, I walked over to Miguel's secretary, Leticia Burton's desk, and scribbled a few words on a sticky note.

"Miguel, we're over."

I dropped the pen and strode out of the office.

Leticia was Miguel's secretary.

For most of my ten-year relationship with Miguel, Leticia was always there—hovering in the background.

Whenever I messaged Miguel on WhatsApp, trying to be sweet, it was Leticia who replied.

"Sorry, Ms. Haston, Mr. Peaden is in a meeting. I'll pass your message along."

She handled everything—buying condoms, groceries, clothes, even Miguel's everyday wardrobe.

It was all Leticia.

I hated it.

I argued with Miguel over it countless times.

But he'd just look at me calmly. "Kylie, you have no taste, no eye for quality. Leticia is far more capable—why complain when she can handle it better?"

His words used to shut me up every time.

But now, I'd resigned myself to reality.

After all, how could a regular college grad like me compete with Leticia, who had a master's degree from a top school?

She was sophisticated—she could negotiate with clients and keep Miguel's life perfectly organized.

Meanwhile, I'd worked at Miguel's company for ten years and I was still just an overlooked employee in operations.

If Miguel admired Leticia so much, maybe he should be with her.

After all, when I asked him for a 40,000-dollar loan, he still had me go through company procedures—at Leticia's suggestion.

I never expected that the moment I stepped out of the building, I'd get a call.

My mom was gone.

She died five minutes ago.

A wail burst out from my lips before I could stop it.

Then, as if on cue, Leticia called me again.

"Ms. Haston, Mr. Peaden is leaving on a business trip tomorrow. Please have two pairs of dress shoes and three suits ready for him."

Hearing Leticia's commanding tone, I snapped at her in anguish, "Didn't you see the sticky note? Miguel and I broke up."

"Sorry, Ms. Haston. I haven't given the note to Mr. Peaden yet, and Mr. Peaden hasn't informed me that you've broken up. So please follow Mr. Peaden's process and prepare his clothes."

Pain pressed in on my chest, sharp and relentless.

If the cab hadn't arrived just then, I might have turned around and slapped Leticia across the face.

After all, if it weren't for her, my mom wouldn't have died.

Mom had been battling cancer for years. She'd already left the hospital after previous rounds of chemo.

This relapse was unexpected. Even the doctors said that although the cancer had returned, a 40,000 dollars surgery could save her life.

I didn't have it, so I had no choice but to ask Miguel for help.

To get that money, I called Miguel more than a hundred times.

But every time I brought up money, he'd brush me off, annoyed. "Why are you telling me? Go talk to Leticia."

And every time I went to Leticia, she'd look at me with that same regretful expression.

"Sorry, Ms. Haston. 40,000 dollars isn't a small amount. Let me think about it."

And so Leticia kept "thinking" for half a month.

Until today, when the doctor told me Mom couldn't hold on any longer, and I had to make a decision.

That's when I finally made my way up to the top floor to see Miguel.

I thought if I begged him in tears, he'd say yes.

But I never got the chance. Miguel cut me off before I could speak, snapping, "Do you think my money grows on trees? You think I can just throw 40,000 dollars your way whenever you ask?"

I stood there, shattered.

He didn't even look at me. He just told Leticia to show me out.

I wiped my tears, a bitter smile on my lips, and got in the cab without glancing back.

The next three days were a blur, filled with Mom's funeral.

I cried so hard every day that I could barely breathe. The whole world knew my mom was gone.

Except Miguel.

We weren't even following each other on Instagram.

He never introduced me to his friends, and he never bothered to meet mine.

Miguel, as a multimillionaire, every minute of his time is worth thousands. He'd never waste a second scrolling through my Instagram.

He didn't just miss the news of my mom's death—he didn't even know she died because I couldn't afford her surgery.

Staring at Mom's photo on her headstone, I pulled out my phone and said to the man on the other end of the line, "Buy me a ticket for tomorrow night. I've taken care of everything for my mom."

Afterward, I took a taxi back to the house Miguel and I shared.

The moment I walked in, I saw Miguel sitting on the couch.

His hair was still damp, beads of water glistening on his chest beneath the open V-neck of his bathrobe.

This was the Miguel I used to love most.

Instinctively, I pressed my lips together, just about to step forward, when a sweet, clear voice floated out from the bathroom.

"Mr. Peaden, can I blow-dry your hair now?"

As the words faded, a flash of red emerged from the bathroom.

I turned my head and locked eyes with Leticia.

When my gaze landed on her bright red nightgown, I couldn't help the sneer that curled at my lips.

That nightgown was the only gift Miguel had ever bought for me with his own money.

I'd cherished it so much that since he gave it to me, I'd only worn it once.

But now, unbelievably, she was wearing it.

I took a deep breath. "Sorry to interrupt your little rendezvous. Clearly, I came home at the wrong time."

I grabbed my suitcase and turned to leave, but Miguel suddenly stormed over and yanked me back, furious.

"Kylie, what are you making a scene for now? Leticia and I got caught in a downpour while visiting some properties, so we came back to the villa to change."

Honestly, I tried to hold it together. After all, in four days, I'd be marrying someone else.

I'd only come back to resign from my job and officially break up with Miguel.

I didn't care what Miguel and Leticia did outside, but I couldn't stomach Miguel letting Leticia parade around in my nightgown, in the home I once thought was mine, before we'd even ended things.

"So you're saying those love bites on her neck aren't yours?"

That nightgown was sheer, meant to be sexy. I could see the marks Leticia tried to hide beneath the thin fabric.

Miguel's face flickered with panic.

Leticia spoke up, perfectly composed. "Ms. Haston, any marks on my body are my own business. They have nothing to do with you, and you have no right to ask.

"If you think my presence bothers you, I'll stay away from this villa. But I hope you'll stop storming out every time something upsets you. Do you realize how busy Mr. Peaden is? You keep causing drama, but he's only human—he gets tired too."

Leticia, with her elite degree, had managed to paint me as unreasonable in just a few sentences.

Swallowing the pain rising in my chest, I was about to snap back when Miguel cut in, his face cold. "Kylie, apologize to Leticia right now. She's my assistant, not your emotional punching bag.

"I expect you to stop testing my limits over and over."

I looked at Miguel, pale but smiling bitterly.

"Miguel, if you think I'm going to apologize, you're dreaming."

After that, I stormed off to my room, dragging my suitcase behind me.

Miguel, almost as if he wanted to punish me, didn't come to my room that night.

Thinking about it, a bitter smile crept onto my lips.

I might have been Miguel's girlfriend, but I felt more like his mistress.

He could walk into my room anytime he pleased.

But if I wanted to see him, I had to knock, wait for permission, and only enter if he allowed it.

If he was in a bad mood, he wouldn't even bother to answer me—not even a simple "I'm busy."

But honestly, that suited me just fine now.

With only four days left until my wedding, I had no desire to spend any more time around him.

The next morning, I woke up to find Miguel already at the breakfast table.

He pointed to a glass of milk. "You've always had stomach issues, right? I asked Doreen to heat up some milk for you."

This was Miguel's usual way of making peace.

In the past, I'd always take the milk and drink it all at once, just to give him an easy way out—even though I hated milk.

But this time, I didn't reach for the glass. Instead, I called out to our housekeeper, Doreen.

"Doreen, could you please get me oatmeal?"

Miguel pushed the milk toward me again.

"All I wanted last night was for you to apologize to Leticia. Why are you being so dramatic?

"She is my right hand. You know I can't lose her. If you storm off and leave, how am I supposed to get any work done?"

His eyes softened, and my chest tightened instinctively.

Miguel and I met during my internship—he was the boss, and I was the new intern at the company.

I didn't even know who he was when I asked him to press the elevator button for my department while I was picking up coffee for the team.

After that, I started receiving flowers every few days, until a month later Miguel called to invite me to dinner.

He was a perfect gentleman when we first met at a five-star hotel—charming, witty, and cultured. That night, I was completely swept off my feet.

Six months later, I moved into his villa.

Our first year together was pure happiness.

He'd bake pastries for me himself, and if I caught a cold, he'd rush home from meetings just to take care of me.

Because we wanted to keep things private, whenever I worked late, he'd stay at the office too. We'd sneak into his office to share midnight snacks and stolen kisses, like two conspirators.

I know Miguel used to love me madly.

But ever since Leticia became his secretary, even a gentle look from him has become a luxury.

I forced a smile and said quietly, "If you can't live without Leticia, why not marry her? Put her name on the deed—wouldn't that be safest?"

Miguel's impatience was obvious. I didn't need to guess what he'd say next—probably another lecture about how I was being unreasonable.

So I decided to speak first. "Miguel, I think we shou—"

Before I could finish, Leticia walked in from outside the villa.

"Mr. Peaden, it's eight o'clock. We need to leave for the office now."

Miguel immediately stood, face cold, grabbed his suit jacket, and followed her out.

It felt like punching a pillow—no pain, but enough to suffocate.

Not long after Miguel and Leticia left, I grabbed my bag and headed to the office as well.

The moment I arrived, my supervisor called me into his office.

He handed me a performance review, looking helpless.

"Kylie, I'm really sorry. I did everything I could. I was sure after I resigned, my position would go to you. But upper management shut down my recommendation without a second thought."

I looked at our department manager, Gordon Patrick, and saw the guilt flicker in his eyes.

Calmly, I pulled out my resignation letter. "Mr. Patrick, it's alright. I've already decided to leave."

Gordon stared at me in disbelief. "You're really quitting? You've worked here for ten years, always so dedicated, solving problem after problem for this company. And now you're leaving."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

But that's exactly why I had to go—ten years of hard work, and I never got anything I truly wanted.

Miguel once promised me that if I made it to Operations Manager, he'd take me home to meet his family, and we'd get married.

I believed him.

I worked overtime relentlessly. I pushed myself to deliver results.

But no matter how hard I tried—even when I ranked first in performance, first in every review—the Operations Manager seat changed hands again and again, but it was never mine.

I confronted Miguel about it countless times, but he'd always just look at me coldly.

"Kylie, if you can't get that position, it means you're not good enough. You should reflect on what you need to improve, instead of whining to me."

That was the first time I felt truly numb.

Besides wanting to marry Miguel, I desperately wanted recognition for my work.

Maybe the pain in my chest was too much; I couldn't hold back my tears.

Afraid to show my weakness in front of Gordon, I hurriedly stood up. "Sorry, Mr. Patrick, I need to use the restroom."

My sobs mixed with the sound of the toilet flushing in the bathroom.

It was only then that I realized just how much I'd endured, how much I'd resented these ten years with Miguel.

While I hid in the bathroom, crying, voices drifted in from outside the door.

"I heard Mr. Patrick from Operations is quitting, and he recommended Kylie for Operations Manager."

"Ms. Burton, others might not know, but everyone in the secretarial office does—Mr. Peaden promised Kylie that if she made Operations Manager, he'd marry her."

Leticia let out a cold laugh.

"Kylie? That idiot thinks she deserves to marry Mr. Peaden? Relax. I stopped her from becoming Operations Manager before, and I'll do it again.

"That stubborn fool, Kylie. I've blocked her year-end bonus more than once just to force her out, but she's managed to hang on every time."

A surge of hatred shot through my chest.

All these years at the company, every employee who performed well got a generous year-end bonus.

Every long-term staff member saw their pay increase with seniority—except me.

I was still stuck at entry-level wages.

That's why, when Mom got sick, and I couldn't afford her treatment, I ended up begging Miguel for money in tears.

I never imagined Leticia was behind it all.

Furious, I threw open the bathroom door and stormed out. "Leticia, it was you, wasn't it? You've been skimming my wages all these years!

"If you want Miguel, just say so! I'd step aside. Why did you have to sabotage me behind my back?"

I was so angry that I slapped Leticia hard across the face.

Her cheeks flushed with rage.

Just as I thought she'd slap me back, she suddenly dropped to her knees.

"Ms. Haston, I know you're Mr. Peaden's girlfriend. I can't afford to cross you, but I can avoid you, can't I? I'll resign today. Please, just stop bullying me, don't hit me anymore. I'm sorry, I admit I was wrong, just let me go."

I stared at her, stunned.

The next moment, a cold voice rang out from the hallway.

"Kylie, what are you doing? This is a workplace, not a place for your tantrums. Apologize to Leticia right now."

Miguel strode over, his face full of concern as he helped Leticia to her feet.

"Are you alright? Where did she hit you? I'll take you to the hospital right now."

Leticia sobbed and collapsed into Miguel's arms.

"Mr. Peaden... I'm fine... It's all my fault. I shouldn't have vetoed Ms. Haston's application for Operations Manager. She has every right to blame me.

"I just couldn't stand how she's thrown her weight around all these years, acting like she owns the place because she's a senior employee—even Mr. Patrick has to tiptoe around her. Now Mr. Patrick's quitting because of her.

"And she even threatened Mr. Patrick, forced him to vouch for her so she could get the Operations Manager job. I just didn't want her to turn the department into chaos, so I had no choice but to reject her application.

"But I never expected Ms. Haston would come after me in the bathroom and hit me."

Miguel's expression darkened, his gentle hand on Leticia's back before he turned on me in anger.

"Kylie, did you really think that if you became Operations Manager, I'd marry you? Take a look at yourself—do you really think you're good enough for me?

"For ten years, I've fed you, clothed you. Did you really think you were some high-society wife? Go to HR and process your resignation. Get out of my company."

A mocking smile twisted my lips.

So this was what Miguel really thought.

From beginning to end, he'd only ever seen me as a mistress, never a girlfriend.

Honestly, I'd known the answer for a long time—I just didn't want to admit it.

Tears slipped down my cheeks. I wiped them away calmly and handed over my resignation.

"No need for you to kick me out, boss. I'll leave on my own. Here's my resignation letter."

I had never called Miguel "boss" before.

So when that distant word slipped out, it hit him hard that he couldn't help but furrow his brow.

He was just about to say something when Leticia's whimpering broke the silence.

"Mr. Peaden, I'm feeling a little dizzy. Could you please take me to the hospital?"

Miguel instantly returned to his usual cold detachment.

I gave a bitter laugh, shook my head, and walked out of the bathroom.

Ten years of love—finally over.

I went straight back to Miguel's villa, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing my things.

But after all that sorting, everything that truly belonged to me only filled two suitcases.

The rest—bags, jewelry—had all been picked out by Leticia, tailored to her tastes, not mine.

Especially when I found the men's ring tucked away in the corner of my vanity, I couldn't hold back my tears.

That ring was my dad's keepsake. I'd once given it to Miguel.

Miguel accepted it, but I'd never seen him wear it.

Then one day, I happened to see it tossed in the trash bin in his study, and I knew then that there was no future for us.

Once everything was packed, I hauled my suitcases downstairs.

Just as I reached the villa's front door, I ran into Miguel coming home.

He frowned at me. "Running away again? You stormed out just a couple of days ago and came slinking back. Aren't you tired of this little routine?"

A mocking smile crossed my lips.

So, during those three days after Mom died, Miguel thought I was just sulking.

No wonder he never called to ask about me.

No wonder his face was dripping with contempt when I came back.

I looked at him calmly. "Miguel, let's break up."

Just then, the taxi pulled up. I didn't care how dark his expression was as I stuffed my bags in the trunk and opened the car door.

Right before I left, Miguel called out coldly.

"Kylie, if you walk out this time, I won't let you come back. I won't allow you to keep pushing my limits."

I shot him a scornful look. "Miguel, don't worry. Even if I die, I'll never come back."

With that, I climbed into the car and pulled the door shut.

Watching the trees fade in the window, I knew my ten-year Cinderella dream was finally shattered.