28

EMILY'S POV

Seeing how I broke into uncontrollable tears over something that ought to have caused me to simply bite my lip, and grunt in anger; I finally realized how much I was hurting.

I had been telling myself I was fine, and had pushed down my hurt by trying to encourage myself.

I wasn't fine. No, not at all. I was hurt, and broken in the worst way. John had gotten to me after all. Everything about my life sucked. I just wanted to wake up, and realize it had all just been a horrible nightmare.

My tears streamed down my face hotly, and it seemed like they emitted steam that heated my whole face.

The maids looked puzzled, as they tried to console me.

They were probably wondering why I was crying so hard over papers.

I want to go home, I wish to leave. Damn, I hate John! I hate everything! Aaaah! Why's my life so messed up? Three years is a long hell of a time. Three good years living with such an idiot, I couldn't keep the words blasting from all corners of my mind.

Would I ever be able to endure, and go through three years of such disrespect, disregard, and emotional damage?

A maid hugged me, and I cried in her embrace, wishing for nothing more than to see Dahlia, and tell her the truth that I was sick of everything. I wasn't fine, nor was I capable of handling the mistreatment. John made it so obvious that he was out to hurt me, and there was nothing I could do.

I couldn't stop him, or do anything about it.

He was the one in the place of authority.

He was the one calling the shots, and giving the orders.

After crying, coughing, and choking on my tears for almost thirty minutes, I wiped my tears, and got to my feet, collecting the papers that had been stacked hurriedly into the folders.

"Thank you. I just…"

I couldn't even try smiling. Smiling was a needle ripping out my chest in tiny, hurtful bits.

"You were past breaking point. We also have eyes, you know." One of them said, in a low tone, and I sniffed. "Next time, don't bottle it in. Don't deny it. Lying to ourselves is the worst thing we can ever do." She added, and I nodded.

"I've learned my lesson. An embarrassing one." I said, trying my best to sound light, and she smiled.

"I can say I collided into you." Another maid offered, but I shook my head.

"What worse thing can he do? I'll just accept it." I replied, and dropped the folders, before making my way to John's office.

"I clearly remember giving you five minutes more. How come you're coming twenty-eight minutes later?" He asked, swiveling to me in his office chair.

"I'm sorry. I had the most unfortunate accident. I fell, and everything I had arranged went to waste." I explained, not expecting him to believe me, and braced myself to receive heavy backlash from him.

Fortunately, the backlash didn't come.

"So what do you want from me now?" He asked, and I moistened my lips.

"More time." I replied, tangling my fingers together.

"More time?" He asked seriously, even though he knew he didn't need it. "Tomorrow morning." He blurted out, and I nodded.

As I left the second study, I saw Mandy waiting, with a smile, and her arms were folded.

She followed me as I went back to the dining room to spread out my documents, and start my work.

"So I heard you cried." She began, but I ignored her.

I didn't need to put up with her.

I began to arrange my documents, and sat down in a chair, beginning to arrange things.

"You're not going to say anything?" She asked, scoffing, but I still didn't reply her. I was already frustrated. "Have it your way then. I'll laugh all I want. I'm only too sad I missed the show." She blurted out, and left, with her slippers slapping the tiled floor aggressively.

Slowly, I arranged the files, trying not to think of anything— trying to ignore the blooming flower of sadness, growing in a well of depression from deep within me.

Acting strong was terrible. You never know when you've overdone it and need a break.

I wiped sweat off my brow, and decided to remain depressed, since pulling myself out was a lot harder than just letting it overwhelm me.

Thankfully, not all the papers were completely disarranged. Half of them were still packed, and arranged beautifully.

It made me feel relieved, and slightly better.

I finished with it late at night, and gave a sigh. It was almost midnight.

I went to check if John was still in the study, and indeed he was.

After a brief knock, I pushed the door open, and met him sitting on the table, doing something on his tablet.

"I'm done." I said, dropping it gently next to him, and as I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist, and turned me to him.

I stumbled, and laid a hand on his arm to stabilize myself.

Then I took it off abruptly. He dropped his tablet, and looked directly into my eyes.

"Do you… want to talk?" He asked, but the dangerous look in his eye didn't seem like just talking. It betrayed his intentions.

I swallowed, and tried to tug my wrist free, but he held on to me.

"Why did you cry? Was it because of me?" He asked, pulling me uncomfortably closer.

"With all due respect, it's late, and…"

He rose to his feet, standing directly over me, and looking down at me like he was trying to intimidate me.

"Throw away the boss and secretary relationship away for now, Emily."

"Unfortunately, no, I'm not up for…"

"Don't you want to talk to me like we used to before?" He asked, taking a step closer. I took two backwards, and knew immediately that he was trying to back me to the wall, so I stepped out of the way.

"Don't play tough." He said huskily, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Let's talk in my bedroom." He said, making his way towards the door, and I scoffed.

"No." I said, firmly, trying to let him know I meant my words.

And when he turned, th e glint in his eyes was more than dangerous.

Like he was going to succumb to the impulsive person he was.