Her misery

"I brought you here! I created this job for you, and instead of being grateful, you're asking for a promotion?" Ethan shouted, his voice full of hatred. "You were nothing, just a simple country girl begging me, kneeling, to give you a job. And now you want a promotion?!"

Melanie kept her head down, staring at the floor. She waited for Ethan to finish yelling at her so everything could go back to normal. After all, this wasn't the first time. Lately, though, he found reasons to belittle her more often. She had the growing sense that he no longer wanted her around.

Finally, Ethan stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. Melanie could finally catch her breath.

"Am I really going to spend my whole life sorting files and making coffee?" she muttered as she walked over to his desk and picked up a photo of him. "You promised me... You promised me the perfect job, that you'd pay for my college, and elevate me if... if I became yours." She threw the photo down, shattering the glass frame.

Tears streamed down her face, and she resolved she couldn't live like this anymore. Yes, Ethan had brought her into his magazine agency, offering her a "dream job." Of course, it came with the price of sleeping with him.

He had told her he would first make her his secretary, where she'd handle important tasks, then pay for her to attend the college of her choice because, after all, he had the connections to get her in anywhere. He promised he would marry her once everything fell into place, and she would become the lady of it all. Instead, she spent her days in the company warehouse, taking care of coffee deliveries and answering the bell to make coffee for whoever needed it. It was humiliating.

It was even worse that her colleagues looked down on her, seeing her as a disposable, naive woman who would do anything for money.

But why had she agreed to all of this?

Because she came from a small town—the same town Ethan was from. They had been school friends and always hung out together. Ethan later went on to study journalism and moved to the big city, while Melanie stayed in their hometown after high school, working as a cashier in the local store. She loved that job because it allowed her to live with her parents and sisters and help support them.

Years later, when Ethan returned and saw Melanie, he told her he had started a journalism agency and that she could work with him if she wanted. The young woman was overjoyed, thinking she could finally provide her family with a better life, earning more than before.

But from the moment she arrived, nothing was as Ethan had described. In fact, everything was ridiculous.

He brought her to his house, saying she could live with him, but only if she cooked and cleaned. When his friends came over, he'd tell her to disappear however she could.

She didn't know anyone in the city to turn to or seek help from. She only had Ethan, who exploited her and eventually took her body, but he hadn't taken her dignity. She had endured as long as she could and finally decided to confront him. That led to today's argument.

She reminded him of the promises he'd made and how everything had fallen apart. The poor girl had become a modern-day servant.

She had reached her limit. She couldn't go on like this.

She ran out of the office and headed toward the elevator. Her colleagues didn't pay attention to her. If they saw her, they either turned away or laughed at her.

Once she reached the basement and the warehouse, she put on her coat and headed for home—Ethan's house. She decided to walk to clear her mind.

The rain was falling, but she didn't mind; it washed away her tears. She had never cried so much in her life. After half an hour of walking, she grew tired and sat down on a bench at a bus stop. Leaning her head against the wall, which shielded her from the rain, she noticed a billboard next to the bus shelter.

Dominik Acheron—the current most popular businessman whose quotes were slowly entering school textbooks—was staring at her through the advertisement, raising a glass of wine mockingly as if celebrating her downfall.

"Go ahead, mock me too. No one knows me, but everyone laughs at me." She broke down in tears again.

She cried for about five minutes until the bus arrived, and she got on. She would have liked to ride the bus endlessly, to be taken anywhere far away from here. But she couldn't. She didn't dare.

When she arrived home, she saw the lights on in Ethan's room, which was odd because it was still early. She knew Ethan never came home until long after work hours. She grew nervous.

"What if there's a break-in?" she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Ethan will blame me if something's missing… I have to be brave!"

Clenching her fist, she headed toward the house. She grabbed a broom from the hallway and made her way to Ethan's room. She could hear noises. Screaming. Moaning? A woman's voice?

She swung the door open, and Ethan and his favorite secretary—Alena, the one whose position he refused to give to Melanie—leaped out of bed.

"Melanie... What are you doing here..." Ethan stammered, shocked and terrified.

The broom fell from her hand. That was it. This was the end. She simply turned and ran out of the house. She didn't look back; she didn't need to know whether Ethan was following her or not. She didn't want anything more to do with him, the job, or the house.

***

It was 9 p.m., and Melanie found herself in a bar. A nightclub. She had never gone to places like this unless Ethan had taken her. She was on her third vodka and wasn't thinking about anything anymore.

When she couldn't drink any more, she tried to stand, but she couldn't. She tried again and fell off her chair.

A large man, who had been sitting in a VIP booth alone, had been watching her all night. The moment she collapsed, he wasted no time and immediately helped her up. He took her by the shoulder and arm and gently led her to his booth.

Unbuttoning her collar to give her some air, he noticed her thin, pale, slightly bruised neck. He smiled.

The music was blaring, and Melanie had already fallen asleep with her head resting on the mysterious man's shoulder.

Midnight came and went. It was now 1 a.m., 2 a.m…

Around 3 a.m., the mysterious figure stroked her forehead, face, and neck with an icy hand, waking her up. She was extremely hungover and had no idea where she was or what was happening. She held her head, staying still for a while. Then she remembered everything and began to cry.

"Hey, what's wrong? Did I offend you?"

Melanie paused and wiped her face. She turned to the man and saw the dark figure of a mysterious young man. He had a handsome face with eyes that seemed to shine in the darkness. He looked familiar.

"Wh-Who are you? Why are you sitting next to me?" Her hands flew to her mouth.

She noticed something strange. There was no music. No people. No staff. It was just the two of them. A chill ran down her spine.

"Why is there no one here?" she asked, looking around.

"I sent everyone away and turned off the music, thinking you might prefer the silence," he said, raising his glass of wine. "You know, I could've taken you to a bedroom to rest," he sipped, "but I'm a gentleman."

Melanie quickly pulled herself together, faster than ever. She looked him straight in the eyes and said, "I want... I want to go to a bedroom with you."

The mysterious man watched her through his glass as he drank his wine.

"But don't ask me anything—no names, no feelings. Just give me what I need." She said it without flinching.

The man was intrigued. He took her hand and kissed it.

"I didn't know such interesting people came to my club." He smiled.

"But I have one request."

"What's that?"

"Let me do anything I want with you. Especially with your neck."

"My neck? You have some strange fetish, don't you?" she laughed.

"If you laugh like that again, I won't be able to control myself, and I'll kiss your neck without your permission."

"Then don't hold back. Tonight, I'm all yours."