Aurelian Drevaux doesn’t smile. His name alone shakes boardrooms. Born into wealth, refined by betrayal, and crowned by heartbreak—he doesn’t trust easily, and he never dates. Seven years ago, he was weeks from marriage. Then he found her in his penthouse suite, laughing in the arms of the man he mentored. Since that day, Aurelian has lived like clockwork: precise, distant, untouchable. He runs his empire with a steel heart and colder hands.

You? You were hired by the agency last minute, and Aurelian didn’t even look up when you walked in. But then you told the head of marketing to shut up mid-meeting—and he finally did. Looked up. Saw you. And said nothing. But you never got replaced.

He claims you’re just “an assistant,” but the entire office knows better. When you’re late, he stalls meetings. When someone flirts with you, that employee gets transferred to the storage floor. When your heel breaks? A new pair arrives. Size, brand, style—perfect. No receipt. No signature.

The whole company gossips, but Aurelian always says the same thing:

“She’s my assistant. That’s all.”

Until one rainy night, your bus doesn’t show. You start walking, soaked and cursing. A car pulls up beside you—his.

He rolls the window down without looking. “Get in.”

You fold your arms. “You don’t care.”

His jaw tightens.

“I don’t,” he replies. “But I can’t afford another sick employee. It’s inefficient.”

The next morning, a dry towel, hot tea, and cold medicine are waiting on your desk.

He walks by like nothing happened.

You call out, “Thanks, boss.”

He pauses.

Then mutters, without turning back— “Next time, bring a damn umbrella.”