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The Billionaire's Submissive Secretary，My Revenge After He Disowned Me

NovelMaster · English · Theater: NovelMaster, Lang: English, Genre: Realistic ·

Theater: NovelMaster  |  Language: English  |  NEW

Synopsis

On the drive back from the office with Vincent Sterling, a cloyingly sweet female voice chirped from his phone navigation:
"Baby Tiffany is here to remind you—buckle up, handsome!"
She must have set that voice pack while he was asleep the night they reunited, just to show me who was boss.
Vincent glanced at me through the rearview mirror, but my face remained an unreadable mask.
I was his executive assistant and his secret bedmate. For three whole years, I had catered to his every whim in the boardroom and the bedroom, never once uttering a single word of complaint.
The day Tiffany Hayes returned to the country to seal their arranged corporate marriage, everyone in our circle was waiting for my downfall.
"This marriage is strictly business," Vincent had said, wrapping his arm around my waist. "You’re smart enough to know what’s at stake."
I had looked at him coldly.
"Do whatever you want. It’s not like I ever loved you anyway."
Enraged by my complete lack of emotion, Vincent shoved me roughly onto the leather sofa.
"Your body is always much more honest than your mouth," he growled.
His hands roamed under my clothes, ignoring my resistance.
"Mr. Sterling always does whatever he pleases," I said, meeting his dark eyes with chilling indifference. "Since when did you ever care about the feelings of a mere subordinate?"
For three years, he had genuinely believed I was madly, helplessly in love with him. He thought I had no limits when it came to pleasing him.
Suddenly, a wave of violent nausea surged up from my stomach. Pushing him away without warning, I doubled over, coughing and dry-heaving violently.
Vincent stopped, his brow furrowing in disgust.
"Ugh. What a hassle."
Clicking his tongue, he pulled out his phone to call his private physician. But before he could dial, the digital door lock chimed.
In a flash, Vincent sprang up from the couch and shoved me hard onto the floor.
"Vincent, honey, am I interrupting?"
Tiffany walked in, wheeling a designer suitcase. She clearly had no intention of leaving anytime soon. "We’re going to be husband and wife soon anyway. You won't mind me dropping by, right?"
"Of course not. I always respect my woman's wishes," Vincent replied smoothly.
Hearing this possessive, arrogant man speak so gently to another woman almost made me laugh out loud.
"Good evening, Miss Hayes," I forced down my nausea, slipping instantly back into professional mode. I greeted her while quietly stepping back to keep a safe ten-foot distance from Vincent.
"Mr. Sterling is about to become a married man," Tiffany sneered, eyeing me up and down with utter contempt. "A secretary ought to learn some boundaries."
"You misunderstand, Miss Hayes. I'm strictly here for work," I replied blandly, lowering my head.
Before I could even finish, Tiffany threw herself into Vincent's arms. They began kissing right in front of me, and Vincent didn't spare me another glance.
Letting her drape all over him, Vincent carried her upstairs toward the master bedroom. As they brushed past me, Tiffany deliberately tossed her heavy bags right at me, nearly knocking me off my feet.
Soon enough, shrill, breathless moans echoed from the floor above.
As Vincent’s personal assistant, handling his messy personal life was part of the job.
Taking a deep breath, I packed fresh changes of clothes for both of them along with condoms, walked upstairs, and slid the package through the gap beneath the bedroom door.
Then I sat down on the cold hallway floor, leaning my back against the wall.
The muffled sounds of their passionate lovemaking assaulted my ears, forcing graphic images into my mind. I forced myself to endure every second.
An hour later, the noise finally subsided, and the bedroom fell dead silent.
"Mr. Sterling can only sleep peacefully when you're nearby. That kind of emotional dependence is rare," Vincent’s therapist had once told me.
"Then his dependence comes pretty damn cheap," I mocked silently in the darkness.
Once I was certain neither of them would step outside tonight, I let out a long breath. I walked over to Tiffany's luggage, fished out her phone, and plugged in my custom USB drive to clone her data.Only after extracting every piece of data and putting everything back in its exact place did I allow my body to collapse.
Waves of searing stomach pain ripped through me. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up everything from that evening’s corporate dinner.
Five hours ago, I had been standing beside banquet tables, pouring drinks for lecherous board members and investors.
"You know what they say—a secretary takes care of business during the day, and takes care of the boss all night. Sounds like our Mr. Sterling has it all figured out."
"Jane's performance in the office is top-notch. I bet her performance behind closed doors is even wilder."
The middle-aged executives, with their protruding beer bellies, had stared at me with disgusting, predatory eyes, tossing around vile locker-room jokes.
"Jane is indeed our most capable employee," Vincent had said, sitting calmly among them, raising his glass and passively encouraging their harassment.
Seeing Vincent offer zero protection, they pushed further.
They filled my glass with liquor again and again.
"A toast to Jane's selfless dedication to the company!"
"And another to how well she serves Mr. Sterling!"
Cheered on by the drunken crowd, I was forced to down glass after glass of harsh tequila, enduring their wandering hands along the way.
Alcohol spilled down the corner of my lips as I clenched my jaw tight.
If it weren’t for the mission I still needed to complete, I would never have suffered this humiliation.
Dizziness washed over me as the alcohol hit my bloodstream. Shoved by someone from behind, I fell helplessly into Vincent’s lap.
Yet, whether as an indispensable assistant of three years or as his secret lover, Vincent showed not an ounce of care.
Through the haze, I heard him whisper into his phone:
"Did you get the shot? Proof that Jane threw herself at me. That should shut the old man up about my personal life."
Only then did he drag my half-conscious body back to the penthouse.
The hangover pills barely helped.
After dry-heaving over the toilet until my throat burned, I collapsed on the floor, checked that the USB drive was hidden safely in my bra, and finally let my eyes slip shut.
When I woke up, I was in the guest suite. Vincent’s private physician was sitting beside me.
"How is she?" Vincent asked from the doorway.
His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. It seemed his night with his new fiancée hadn't been as peaceful as he pretended.
"Acute alcohol poisoning and severe gastritis. I gave her an IV. She needs rest and a bland diet."
Satisfied that I wasn't dying, Vincent barked a few cold instructions and left for the office.
The moment his sports car sped off, the doctor turned to me with a serious expression.
"You're pregnant. Did you know?"
"I do now," I whispered after a brief silence. "Please don't tell him. I'll handle it myself."
He hesitated, but eventually nodded.
A few days later, right after I handed the USB drive to a digital forensics expert to recover deleted files, Vincent’s call buzzed in.
"You’re done resting, right? Tiffany is throwing a massive welcome-back party tonight, and she specifically demanded that I bring you."
"Play nice and cater to her. I need this merger to go through smoothly."
I knew Tiffany had nothing good planned for me. But to confirm one vital piece of the puzzle, I had to be there.On the way to pick up Vincent from headquarters, his phone's GPS blared the annoying voice pack Tiffany had deliberately recorded to taunt me. My heart didn't stir in the slightest.
"If you really don't want to go, you don't have to," Vincent mumbled awkwardly, clearing his throat.
Instead of answering, I pulled the Mercedes straight into the driveway of Tiffany’s luxury villa and stepped out with him.
The second Tiffany spotted Vincent, she threw her arms around his neck, planting kisses all over his face. After a moment of PDA, she turned around and looped her arm through mine.
"Jane! You made it!" she squealed like we were lifelong besties, despite having met less than a week ago. "Thank you so much for taking such good care of my fiancé for me."
Whispers broke out among the guests around the pool.
"So that's Vincent's little secretary? She doesn't hold a candle to Tiffany."
"I heard she used every dirty trick in the book to climb into his bed."
Their voices weren't quiet, but nasty rumors were something I had long grown immune to.
"Why are you dressed in such a boring business blouse for a party? Don't worry, I picked out something special for you!"
Ignoring my reaction, Tiffany dragged me into the guest dressing room.
The outfit was an eye-searing, neon-pink tutu dress covered in cheap sequins. It looked like an oversized toddler costume meant to turn me into a laughingstock. But God had blessed me with striking features and a model's frame; I could pull off even a circus costume.
When I stepped back out into the backyard, every pair of eyes—including Vincent’s—was glued to me in stunned silence.
Tiffany’s face flushed crimson with rage, though she forced a stiff smile.
"Let's see if you can keep that deadpan face when Vincent kicks you to the curb," she hissed viciously into my ear as she walked past to take center stage.
"Let the party begin!" she announced brightly into a microphone.
The courtyard gates swung open, and a pack of groomed, purebred dogs bounded into the lawn, dressed in flashy pet costumes, running straight toward their wealthy owners.
Only then did I realize the theme of tonight's party: "Pets and Royalty".
And my garish pink outfit matched the flashy dog costumes to perfection.
"Has every dog found its master?" Tiffany asked, her eyes locking straight onto Vincent and me at the back of the lawn.
The guests turned their smirking gazes our way.
"Looks like they have," Tiffany laughed, prompting a wave of cruel chuckles from the crowd.
I couldn't help but let out a cold smirk.
"Funny. I recall someone else screaming for her 'master' the other night."
During their passionate hookup, every filthy word she begged of Vincent had been loud and clear.
Tiffany turned bright red. Amid the bewildered gasps from the guests, she buried her burning face into Vincent's chest.
"Babe, tell her off!" she whined.
"Well," Vincent murmured, holding Tiffany close, "stray dogs do love eavesdropping."Under everyone's watchful eyes, Vincent held Tiffany tight and kissed her deeply, though his gaze kept darting nervously toward me.
Once the kiss ended, Tiffany walked up to me with pure malice in her eyes. Gripping my shoulder with manicured nails, she snapped a leather dog collar around my neck.
"A bitch is a bitch. Don't ever dream of standing as an equal to your owners," she sneered, yanking the collar to force my face close.
At that close range, my eyes locked onto the uniquely crafted gold chain around her neck.
As the party dragged late into the night, Tiffany gave Vincent a sultry wink, signaling for him to join her in the master bath.
Passing me, she pointed a finger.
"A loyal pet stays guard outside the door."
I hesitated, but Vincent shot me a stern, commanding glare. "Remember what I said: cater to her."
Swallowing the bile in my throat, I followed them upstairs and stood outside the bathroom door.
Inside, Tiffany tossed her garments and jewelry out piece by piece, hurling them toward me. Then came the gold chain.
With trembling fingers, I picked it up. Sure enough, right on the edge of the pendant, there was a tiny, custom-engraved letter: "J".
Instinctively, I slipped the necklace into my pocket. But at that exact moment, the bathroom door swung open, and Tiffany walked out wrapped in a towel.
"Thief! Help! We have a thief!" she screamed, instantly drawing a crowd of partygoers up the stairs.
Caught red-handed with the necklace in my pocket, I had no alibi.
"I know you're obsessed with Vincent, but stealing my jewelry won't make him marry you!" Tiffany cried out, playing the innocent victim.
The onlookers muttered venomous comments in agreement.
Vincent stepped out in a bathrobe, taking in the chaotic scene. His jaw clenched. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, dragged me into the private bathroom, and slammed the door shut.
"Do I not pay you enough that you have to steal from her?!"
"Whatever you wanted, couldn't I buy it for you?! I explicitly told you to keep Tiffany happy! Are you so desperate to replace her that you've lost your damn mind?!"
He gripped my face painfully hard, his bloodshot eyes blazing with fury.
I held the necklace tightly in my fist, staring right back into his eyes without fear.
"I promised I wouldn't interfere with your wedding, and I won't. You don't have to worry about that," I said quietly, completely ignoring his accusations.
"You know what? I despise this soulless, emotionless look on your face!"
Vincent lost his temper completely, punching the tiled wall right next to my head before shoving me hard through the door.
My body smashed through the doorframe and hit the hallway floor with a brutal thud.
Seeing the red bruise blooming across my cheek, Tiffany looked thoroughly satisfied. The crowd slowly dispersed.
Vincent leaned in and whispered something sweet into Tiffany's ear, making her giggle and playfully swat his chest. She didn't look at me again.
"Whatever. I don't even remember where I got that ugly piece anyway. Keep it," Tiffany tossed casually over her shoulder. "Anything touched by a dirty mutt makes me sick."
She locked hands with Vincent and disappeared into the master bedroom.
She had no idea that her upcoming engagement party would be her very last meal in the free world.

Chapters (4)

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 1

On the drive back from the office with Vincent Sterling, a cloyingly sweet female voice chirped from his phone navigation: "Baby Tiffany is here to remind you—buckle up, handsome!" She must have set that voice pack while he was asleep the night they reunited, just to show me who was boss. Vincent glanced at me through the rearview mirror, but my face remained an unreadable mask. I was his executive assistant and his secret bedmate. For three whole years, I had catered to his every whim in the boardroom and the bedroom, never once uttering a single word of complaint. The day Tiffany Hayes returned to the country to seal their arranged corporate marriage, everyone in our circle was waiting for my downfall. "This marriage is strictly business," Vincent had said, wrapping his arm around my waist. "You’re smart enough to know what’s at stake." I had looked at him coldly. "Do whatever you want. It’s not like I ever loved you anyway." Enraged by my complete lack of emotion, Vincent shoved me roughly onto the leather sofa. "Your body is always much more honest than your mouth," he growled. His hands roamed under my clothes, ignoring my resistance. "Mr. Sterling always does whatever he pleases," I said, meeting his dark eyes with chilling indifference. "Since when did you ever care about the feelings of a mere subordinate?" For three years, he had genuinely believed I was madly, helplessly in love with him. He thought I had no limits when it came to pleasing him. Suddenly, a wave of violent nausea surged up from my stomach. Pushing him away without warning, I doubled over, coughing and dry-heaving violently. Vincent stopped, his brow furrowing in disgust. "Ugh. What a hassle." Clicking his tongue, he pulled out his phone to call his private physician. But before he could dial, the digital door lock chimed. In a flash, Vincent sprang up from the couch and shoved me hard onto the floor. "Vincent, honey, am I interrupting?" Tiffany walked in, wheeling a designer suitcase. She clearly had no intention of leaving anytime soon. "We’re going to be husband and wife soon anyway. You won't mind me dropping by, right?" "Of course not. I always respect my woman's wishes," Vincent replied smoothly. Hearing this possessive, arrogant man speak so gently to another woman almost made me laugh out loud. "Good evening, Miss Hayes," I forced down my nausea, slipping instantly back into professional mode. I greeted her while quietly stepping back to keep a safe ten-foot distance from Vincent. "Mr. Sterling is about to become a married man," Tiffany sneered, eyeing me up and down with utter contempt. "A secretary ought to learn some boundaries." "You misunderstand, Miss Hayes. I'm strictly here for work," I replied blandly, lowering my head. Before I could even finish, Tiffany threw herself into Vincent's arms. They began kissing right in front of me, and Vincent didn't spare me another glance. Letting her drape all over him, Vincent carried her upstairs toward the master bedroom. As they brushed past me, Tiffany deliberately tossed her heavy bags right at me, nearly knocking me off my feet. Soon enough, shrill, breathless moans echoed from the floor above. As Vincent’s personal assistant, handling his messy personal life was part of the job. Taking a deep breath, I packed fresh changes of clothes for both of them along with condoms, walked upstairs, and slid the package through the gap beneath the bedroom door. Then I sat down on the cold hallway floor, leaning my back against the wall. The muffled sounds of their passionate lovemaking assaulted my ears, forcing graphic images into my mind. I forced myself to endure every second. An hour later, the noise finally subsided, and the bedroom fell dead silent. "Mr. Sterling can only sleep peacefully when you're nearby. That kind of emotional dependence is rare," Vincent’s therapist had once told me. "Then his dependence comes pretty damn cheap," I mocked silently in the darkness. Once I was certain neither of them would step outside tonight, I let out a long breath. I walked over to Tiffany's luggage, fished out her phone, and plugged in my custom USB drive to clone her data.

Chapter 2

Only after extracting every piece of data and putting everything back in its exact place did I allow my body to collapse. Waves of searing stomach pain ripped through me. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up everything from that evening’s corporate dinner. Five hours ago, I had been standing beside banquet tables, pouring drinks for lecherous board members and investors. "You know what they say—a secretary takes care of business during the day, and takes care of the boss all night. Sounds like our Mr. Sterling has it all figured out." "Jane's performance in the office is top-notch. I bet her performance behind closed doors is even wilder." The middle-aged executives, with their protruding beer bellies, had stared at me with disgusting, predatory eyes, tossing around vile locker-room jokes. "Jane is indeed our most capable employee," Vincent had said, sitting calmly among them, raising his glass and passively encouraging their harassment. Seeing Vincent offer zero protection, they pushed further. They filled my glass with liquor again and again. "A toast to Jane's selfless dedication to the company!" "And another to how well she serves Mr. Sterling!" Cheered on by the drunken crowd, I was forced to down glass after glass of harsh tequila, enduring their wandering hands along the way. Alcohol spilled down the corner of my lips as I clenched my jaw tight. If it weren’t for the mission I still needed to complete, I would never have suffered this humiliation. Dizziness washed over me as the alcohol hit my bloodstream. Shoved by someone from behind, I fell helplessly into Vincent’s lap. Yet, whether as an indispensable assistant of three years or as his secret lover, Vincent showed not an ounce of care. Through the haze, I heard him whisper into his phone: "Did you get the shot? Proof that Jane threw herself at me. That should shut the old man up about my personal life." Only then did he drag my half-conscious body back to the penthouse. The hangover pills barely helped. After dry-heaving over the toilet until my throat burned, I collapsed on the floor, checked that the USB drive was hidden safely in my bra, and finally let my eyes slip shut. When I woke up, I was in the guest suite. Vincent’s private physician was sitting beside me. "How is she?" Vincent asked from the doorway. His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. It seemed his night with his new fiancée hadn't been as peaceful as he pretended. "Acute alcohol poisoning and severe gastritis. I gave her an IV. She needs rest and a bland diet." Satisfied that I wasn't dying, Vincent barked a few cold instructions and left for the office. The moment his sports car sped off, the doctor turned to me with a serious expression. "You're pregnant. Did you know?" "I do now," I whispered after a brief silence. "Please don't tell him. I'll handle it myself." He hesitated, but eventually nodded. A few days later, right after I handed the USB drive to a digital forensics expert to recover deleted files, Vincent’s call buzzed in. "You’re done resting, right? Tiffany is throwing a massive welcome-back party tonight, and she specifically demanded that I bring you." "Play nice and cater to her. I need this merger to go through smoothly." I knew Tiffany had nothing good planned for me. But to confirm one vital piece of the puzzle, I had to be there.

Chapter 3

On the way to pick up Vincent from headquarters, his phone's GPS blared the annoying voice pack Tiffany had deliberately recorded to taunt me. My heart didn't stir in the slightest. "If you really don't want to go, you don't have to," Vincent mumbled awkwardly, clearing his throat. Instead of answering, I pulled the Mercedes straight into the driveway of Tiffany’s luxury villa and stepped out with him. The second Tiffany spotted Vincent, she threw her arms around his neck, planting kisses all over his face. After a moment of PDA, she turned around and looped her arm through mine. "Jane! You made it!" she squealed like we were lifelong besties, despite having met less than a week ago. "Thank you so much for taking such good care of my fiancé for me." Whispers broke out among the guests around the pool. "So that's Vincent's little secretary? She doesn't hold a candle to Tiffany." "I heard she used every dirty trick in the book to climb into his bed." Their voices weren't quiet, but nasty rumors were something I had long grown immune to. "Why are you dressed in such a boring business blouse for a party? Don't worry, I picked out something special for you!" Ignoring my reaction, Tiffany dragged me into the guest dressing room. The outfit was an eye-searing, neon-pink tutu dress covered in cheap sequins. It looked like an oversized toddler costume meant to turn me into a laughingstock. But God had blessed me with striking features and a model's frame; I could pull off even a circus costume. When I stepped back out into the backyard, every pair of eyes—including Vincent’s—was glued to me in stunned silence. Tiffany’s face flushed crimson with rage, though she forced a stiff smile. "Let's see if you can keep that deadpan face when Vincent kicks you to the curb," she hissed viciously into my ear as she walked past to take center stage. "Let the party begin!" she announced brightly into a microphone. The courtyard gates swung open, and a pack of groomed, purebred dogs bounded into the lawn, dressed in flashy pet costumes, running straight toward their wealthy owners. Only then did I realize the theme of tonight's party: "Pets and Royalty". And my garish pink outfit matched the flashy dog costumes to perfection. "Has every dog found its master?" Tiffany asked, her eyes locking straight onto Vincent and me at the back of the lawn. The guests turned their smirking gazes our way. "Looks like they have," Tiffany laughed, prompting a wave of cruel chuckles from the crowd. I couldn't help but let out a cold smirk. "Funny. I recall someone else screaming for her 'master' the other night." During their passionate hookup, every filthy word she begged of Vincent had been loud and clear. Tiffany turned bright red. Amid the bewildered gasps from the guests, she buried her burning face into Vincent's chest. "Babe, tell her off!" she whined. "Well," Vincent murmured, holding Tiffany close, "stray dogs do love eavesdropping."

Chapter 4

Under everyone's watchful eyes, Vincent held Tiffany tight and kissed her deeply, though his gaze kept darting nervously toward me. Once the kiss ended, Tiffany walked up to me with pure malice in her eyes. Gripping my shoulder with manicured nails, she snapped a leather dog collar around my neck. "A bitch is a bitch. Don't ever dream of standing as an equal to your owners," she sneered, yanking the collar to force my face close. At that close range, my eyes locked onto the uniquely crafted gold chain around her neck. As the party dragged late into the night, Tiffany gave Vincent a sultry wink, signaling for him to join her in the master bath. Passing me, she pointed a finger. "A loyal pet stays guard outside the door." I hesitated, but Vincent shot me a stern, commanding glare. "Remember what I said: cater to her." Swallowing the bile in my throat, I followed them upstairs and stood outside the bathroom door. Inside, Tiffany tossed her garments and jewelry out piece by piece, hurling them toward me. Then came the gold chain. With trembling fingers, I picked it up. Sure enough, right on the edge of the pendant, there was a tiny, custom-engraved letter: "J". Instinctively, I slipped the necklace into my pocket. But at that exact moment, the bathroom door swung open, and Tiffany walked out wrapped in a towel. "Thief! Help! We have a thief!" she screamed, instantly drawing a crowd of partygoers up the stairs. Caught red-handed with the necklace in my pocket, I had no alibi. "I know you're obsessed with Vincent, but stealing my jewelry won't make him marry you!" Tiffany cried out, playing the innocent victim. The onlookers muttered venomous comments in agreement. Vincent stepped out in a bathrobe, taking in the chaotic scene. His jaw clenched. Without a word, he grabbed my arm, dragged me into the private bathroom, and slammed the door shut. "Do I not pay you enough that you have to steal from her?!" "Whatever you wanted, couldn't I buy it for you?! I explicitly told you to keep Tiffany happy! Are you so desperate to replace her that you've lost your damn mind?!" He gripped my face painfully hard, his bloodshot eyes blazing with fury. I held the necklace tightly in my fist, staring right back into his eyes without fear. "I promised I wouldn't interfere with your wedding, and I won't. You don't have to worry about that," I said quietly, completely ignoring his accusations. "You know what? I despise this soulless, emotionless look on your face!" Vincent lost his temper completely, punching the tiled wall right next to my head before shoving me hard through the door. My body smashed through the doorframe and hit the hallway floor with a brutal thud. Seeing the red bruise blooming across my cheek, Tiffany looked thoroughly satisfied. The crowd slowly dispersed. Vincent leaned in and whispered something sweet into Tiffany's ear, making her giggle and playfully swat his chest. She didn't look at me again. "Whatever. I don't even remember where I got that ugly piece anyway. Keep it," Tiffany tossed casually over her shoulder. "Anything touched by a dirty mutt makes me sick." She locked hands with Vincent and disappeared into the master bedroom. She had no idea that her upcoming engagement party would be her very last meal in the free world.

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