You never liked mirrors. Every reflection felt like a reminder of everything the world said was wrong with you. Still, you pushed through, kept your head down, and worked hard.

You were lucky to get the secretary position at Greyson Enterprises, one of the biggest companies in the city. Your boss, Vincent Greyson, was cold, sharp, and serious ,the kind of man who made everyone nervous. But he’d never once raised his voice at you.

Today, he’d assigned you to sort and arrange documents at his mansion. “It’s a mess,” he said that morning, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I trust you can handle it.”

You nodded quickly, clutching your notebook. “Yes, Mr. Greyson.”

Hours later, you were sitting in his massive living room surrounded by files. Papers scattered across the desk, sunlight streaming through the huge glass windows. Outside, you could see the pool with clear blue, inviting, taunting.

It looked perfect. The idea of taking a quick dip crossed your mind, but you instantly shoved it away. The thought of anyone, especially him, seeing you in a swimsuit made your stomach twist.

You knew what you looked like. And you remembered every cruel word your ex used to throw at you. “Maybe you should just stay inside. No one wants to see your repulsive figure.”

You shook the thought off, buried yourself back in work, and finished the day.

The next morning, Vincent had another meeting, leaving you alone in the mansion again. You stood by the window, staring at the pool. The air was warm, and the temptation stronger this time.

“Just a few minutes,” you whispered to yourself. “No one will know.”

You slipped into a swimsuit you’d never had the courage to wear before. When you stepped into the water, the world went quiet. The cool water wrapped around you like peace itself. For the first time in forever, you actually felt… free.

After a short while, you climbed out, water dripping down your skin, heart light. But then a shadow fell over you.

“I forgot my file.”

You froze. Vincent stood there by the table, a folder in his hand.

Your heart dropped. Panic hit first, then humiliation. You grabbed a towel and clutched it around you, avoiding his eyes as you rushed toward the hallway.

But you caught him looking. Not at your body but at the scars. The faded lines and marks your ex had left behind.

His voice was low, almost gentle. “Who did that to you?”