The Girlfriend He Denied

I went with my secret boyfriend, Alexander Reed, to inspect a construction site in Boston's Seaport District. When the scaffolding came loose and came crashing down, I ran over and shoved him out of the way almost on instinct. When I woke up, I pretended the blow to my head had given me amnesia. Softly, I asked him what we were to each other. His fingers paused. He looked up at me, his eyes calm as still water. "Ordinary superior and subordinate." ... I lay in the hospital bed, the wound at the back of my head still throbbing faintly. But when Alex said the words "superior and subordinate" in that cold, distant voice, the pain in my head suddenly seemed like nothing at all. Maybe I really had damaged my brain. Otherwise, how could my memory be so confused that I had mistaken our "bed-partner arrangement" for a real relationship? I had loved him in silence for seven years and gotten nowhere. Two years ago, I finally decided to give up. I booked a flight home, ready to settle down and marry someone who actually liked me. But the day I handed in my resignation, those eyes of his, always cool and detached, watched me in silence for a long time. "Don't go. Stay with me." The company had a clear anti-workplace-romance policy, especially forbidding relationships between executives and direct reports. So for the past two years, at work during the day, we were only boss and subordinate. But once the door to his apartment closed, we were the most intimate people in each other's beds. I came back to myself and looked at the man beside my hospital bed. His laptop rested on his long legs, the cold light from the screen tracing the sharp lines of his profile. At the slightly open collar of his shirt, I could even faintly see the suggestive red marks I had left that morning. I did not expose him. I only gave a careless little smile. "Then you're a very considerate boss." Alex paused. His searching gaze settled on my face. The next second, he closed his laptop and nodded coolly. "Thank you for today. Since you're awake, I'll head back to the office." "If you need anything, you can contact my assistant directly." With that, he stood and left without the slightest hesitation. The door closed behind him. I stared at it for a few seconds, then slowly let the stiff expression fall from my face. The hurt and disappointment in my chest nearly crushed me. While I was still dazed, someone knocked on the door. It was Alex's assistant. He walked to the bedside and politely handed me a thin envelope. "Clara Bennett, Alex asked me to give this to you." I looked down. Inside was a cashier's check for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. "He said you should rest and recover properly, then come back to work once you're well." I stared blankly at the piece of paper. I did not move. The assistant placed the envelope by my hand, turned, and shut the door behind him. My fingertips touched the edge of the paper. The tears I had held back for so long finally fell. After two years of a secret relationship, Alex must have gotten tired of me. I just had not expected him to choose such a humiliating way to erase everything back to the beginning. I closed my eyes, and the dull ache at the back of my head became suddenly, painfully clear. The loved one is always fearless. But Alex, this time, I did not want you anymore.

I stayed in the hospital for a few more days. Alex did not come once. His assistant, on the other hand, came several times, each time bringing flowers, vitamins, and fruit baskets. He put them down and left, polite from beginning to end. On the day I was discharged, I handled the paperwork alone and called an Uber back to the small apartment I rented. After I got together with Alex, I had spent most of my time living in his penthouse by the Charles River. This year, I had barely come back at all. I had even forgotten to deal with the failed autopay on the utilities. The late-March cold snap had not fully passed, and the apartment was as cold as an ice cellar. Silently, I turned on the heat and curled up under the blanket. The air slowly warmed. But the place in my chest stayed hollow. No amount of warmth could fill it. The next morning, as soon as I arrived at the office, my colleagues from the department gathered around me, smiling. "Congratulations. Guess we can't call you Clara anymore. It'll have to be Director Clara from now on." I froze. "What do you mean?" "You haven't checked the company intranet? The project department is promoting a new project director." "Your performance is the strongest, and you just saved Alex. If the role isn't yours, whose could it be?" "They probably waited to announce it until you came back today so the boss could thank you publicly." "You have to buy us drinks tonight to celebrate." They talked over one another, their smiles sincere. Looking at them, I slowly began to smile too. Even if my relationship with Alex was over, adults did not have to sabotage their own futures. Alex had not been a good lover, but he had been the best guide for my career. Starting from my internship in my final year of college, he had personally led me through countless projects and taught me everything he knew. I had grown all the way to where I was now, capable of standing on my own. The director position was indeed what I deserved. Just then, the private elevator opened. Alex stepped out, a young woman beside him. High heels, tailored suit, flawless makeup, and the easy composure unique to Upper East Side girls. He stopped and looked around at the staff. "Let me introduce everyone. This is the newly appointed project director, Sophia Whitman." "After work tonight, we'll all welcome Sophia. Company expense." The air went abruptly still. My mind went blank too. One colleague could not hold back. "Alex, Clara has been with the company since graduation. She's always worked hard, and everyone can see her ability. This position should have been hers. Bringing someone in from outside like this doesn't seem appropriate." Alex swept his gaze over her, his voice cold. "The company has its own considerations." Another colleague spoke softly on my behalf. "Clara just risked her life to save you. Isn't this a little too cold?" Alex's expression darkened. His gaze cut around the room, sharp as a blade. "That only proves she is brave but reckless, acting without regard for consequences. A temperament like that is not suited for senior management." Everyone looked at one another. The atmosphere turned unbearably awkward. I stood frozen in place, my heart plunging into ice. At that moment, Sophia stepped forward and held out her hand to me. "Hello. You must be Clara, right?" "Please organize the materials for the Napa resort project and send them to me. Alex has already handed the entire project over to me." I stood there, feeling as if I had been slapped in front of everyone. The world spun. I turned to Alex, tears rising before I could stop them. "I've been responsible for that project from the beginning." "Changing the lead now isn't appropriate, is it?" I had stayed awake through countless nights for that project. He had been the one to force me into bed and make me rest. I did not believe he did not know how important that project was to my career. I stared at him, hoping to find even a trace of compassion in his eyes. But he looked away and addressed the room. "Sophia is Ivy League educated and highly capable. I believe she can handle it." My fingers clenched, then loosened. My nails left crescent marks in my palm. I stopped fighting. Turning to Sophia, I said calmly, "It will take time to organize the materials. I'll email them to you tomorrow morning." Alex had already turned toward his office. His back was straight, like a paper cutter, cleanly slicing apart every connection between us.

I returned to my desk and began organizing the project materials. Every drawing, every version of the proposal, every meeting minute had been typed by me, word by word. Alex had made countless comments on them. Red annotations covered the pages. Some sections had been revised again and again. He once told me that if this project succeeded, it would become the best work of my career. When he said it, he had been holding me from behind, his voice low, gentle, and pleased. At the time, I thought he was proud of me. Now he had handed everything I had built to someone else with his own hands. I stared at the screen for a long time, blinking, but the tears would not stop. When the workday ended, I was about to leave when Sophia stopped by my desk. "Clara, the welcome drinks tonight. Will you do me the honor?" I smiled and was about to make an excuse, but she spoke first. "Do you have a problem with me, or are you afraid to come?" A provocation? I looked up at her, stood, and smiled. "Of course. I'd be rude to refuse." The drinks were held at a private club near the office. The private room was large, with a long table that could seat more than twenty people. Alex was actually there. In the past, he never attended staff gatherings like this. I did not look his way again. I chose the corner farthest from him and lowered my head to eat. During dinner, a vice president stood with his glass and raised it toward Sophia. "I hear you're the youngest daughter of the Whitman family. Why come here instead of going to the family foundation?" "I also heard you and Alex grew up together, and there are rumors that you're getting engaged. That wouldn't be true, would it?" Sophia smiled with her lips pressed together and glanced shyly at Alex. "You're very well informed." "There is indeed such a plan, but... it still depends on what Alex wants." The air went subtly quiet for a moment. Sitting in the corner, I dropped my fork onto the table. My vision blurred for no reason, and I forced it back quickly. I picked up the glass in front of me and took a hard swallow. The burn tightened my throat. After that one mouthful, the dull ache in my chest really did seem to fade a little. I poured myself another glass and drank it down. So alcohol was actually a wonderful thing. "Clara." Alex's voice suddenly sounded from across most of the table, low but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Drinking like that, are you planning to get drunk later and steal the spotlight from the guest of honor?" I looked up and met those cool eyes. He sat at the head of the table, turning his glass in his hand. Others might not have been able to read his mood. But I could tell at a glance. He was angry. The colleagues around us fell silent, their gazes moving between him and me. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Don't worry. I hold my liquor well." "Surely you can afford these few drinks?" His gaze darkened, and his voice cooled too. "Have you finished organizing the project materials?" "I'll be working late tonight. Send me a copy." A dismissal. Anyone could hear it. Everyone at the table was so embarrassed they barely dared to breathe. I set down my glass, picked up my bag, and stood. "Of course," I said, each word clear. "I'll get out of here and go back to work right now." When I turned and walked out of the private room, I stubbornly kept my back straight. The hallway was long, leading to the club's entrance. I walked step by step, pushed open the door, and the night wind rushed into my face. I lifted a hand to touch my cheek. At some point, tears had covered my face. A familiar black car glided soundlessly over and stopped in front of me. Alex's driver got out and opened the rear door. He was the only person who knew about our disgraceful relationship. "Clara, Alex asked me to take you to his apartment." He handed me a box of hangover medicine. I looked at the box, and my face suddenly burned. Only belatedly did shame catch up with me. That bastard. He actually still wanted me to go spend the night with him. I slammed the car door shut. "Tell him to go to hell."

In the taxi, my phone vibrated. Even I wanted to laugh at myself. After everything, some part of me still could not help expecting it to be him. But the message was from my mother. [Clara, you've been single for so long. Mom found a few nice young men for you. I sent you their photos. Look when you have time.] I stared at the message, and my eyes heated again. Two years ago, I had booked a flight home. Alex said, "Stay with me," and I really stayed. Like a little dog who ran back happily the moment its owner crooked a finger. Two years. I had not even managed to earn an official title. And now I had been pushed to the margins at work. I took a deep breath and forced the tears back. Then I opened the photos my mother had sent. I casually picked a few who looked decent and replied: "Let's meet these first." I leaned against the taxi window and watched the lights of the company building recede bit by bit, until they disappeared around a neon-lit corner. I had never been an irresponsible person. I had been at this job since my internship, and I had always believed a person should finish what they started. But this time, I wanted to be willful. The afternoon I submitted my resignation to HR, Alex's assistant came to call me to his office. Alex threw my resignation letter back at me, his brows drawn tight, his tone hard. "Clara, do you have to throw a tantrum at me this way?" I stood in front of his desk, my back straight. "This is a normal career move. I made the decision after careful consideration." "Careful consideration?" He gave a cold laugh. "You spend a few days out of the hospital and away from home, and the decision you come up with is resigning?" Instinctively, I tightened my fingers and looked away. "I don't understand what you mean." "Sir, you and I are only ordinary superior and subordinate." The air went quiet for a second. He looked at me, his eyes cooling inch by inch. "Superior and subordinate?" He repeated it slowly, his voice pressed very low. "Are you still enjoying this little amnesia game? I'm trying to solve the problem with you." My heart soured. What gave him the right to sound so light, so certain? "Thank you for reminding me before. I know very clearly now what you and I are." "From now on, I won't cross any lines. I hope you can keep things professional too." He stared at me, his gaze dark and bottomless. "Clara, we've been together for two years. Is that really what you think of me?" I turned my face away and said nothing. He leaned forward slightly, and his tone softened by half a degree. "Are you upset because of the promotion and the project? I can explain--" "I understand," I interrupted. "The company has its own considerations." I took a deep breath, keeping my voice steady. "I also have other, better career prospects. An employee at my level does not need your personal approval to resign. I'll ask HR to confirm as soon as possible and cooperate fully with the handover." He looked at me and suddenly laughed. There was a trace of mockery in it. "Since you know your resignation doesn't require my approval," "then why, two years ago, did that resignation letter land directly on my desk?" It felt like being slapped. My face burned and stung. Back then, I probably had indeed been gambling. Gambling that I was special to him. I thought I had won. But how could Alex ever truly let me win? I blinked back my tears and forced the corner of my mouth up. "Back then, I overestimated myself." For one brief moment, his expression went blank. It vanished almost immediately. "And this time? A new strategy? You want everyone to think I mistreated you? What kind of hard-to-get trick is this?" My heart had hurt so much it had gone numb. I clenched my fingers and forced myself not to cry. "Once is enough for foolish fantasies." I lifted my eyes to him, my tone calm. "I've decided to go home and seriously get to know the men my mother introduced to me." His face darkened in an instant, frighteningly grim. He stared at me as if he wanted to nail me in place with his eyes. "Good. Very good." His mouth curved into a cold line. "Then I won't hold up your new career or your new relationship." He pressed the intercom. "HR, I've approved Clara's resignation. Process it as soon as possible." I stood there and heard every word clearly. Then I smiled. "Goodbye forever. I won't waste any more of your time." I turned and walked out. The moment the door closed behind me, I quickened my pace. I turned into the restroom and locked the door behind me. The person in the mirror had eyes so red they looked ready to bleed, trembling lips, and a face white enough to be unreal. Anyone could have seen it. This person was heartbroken. So why couldn't Alex? Because he had never given his heart. His coldness finally woke me up. It turned out I had never been anything to him.