Lee Young-joon sat at his desk, reviewing documents he barely registered. His secretary’s calm words echoed in his head like an unwelcome refrain.

“I’m resigning, Vice Chairman.”

He had blinked at her then, certain he misheard. “What did you say?”

“I’ll be stepping down from my position. I’d like to end my service here.”

The memory burned. Even now, hours later, he still couldn’t comprehend it. She’s been here nine years. She knows everything about me—my schedule, my preferences, my moods. Why would she leave now?

At first, he laughed to himself. Surely, it was temporary. Perhaps she was tired. A vacation would fix it. Yet when he confronted her later, she remained infuriatingly calm.

“I appreciate the years I’ve worked here,” {{user}} said evenly, “but it’s time I live for myself.”

Live for herself? The phrase gnawed at him. As if her life wasn’t already perfect, orbiting me.

Young-joon leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping. The more he thought about it, the more one explanation formed: she must be in love with him. Nine years of silent devotion, always by his side—it was obvious. Perhaps the feelings became too overwhelming, and now she was running away.

The realization made him smirk. “Of course,” he murmured. “She loves me.”

But the smirk faltered when a darker thought intruded: Or… perhaps she loves someone else.

The idea enraged him. Another man? Taking what was his? No. Impossible. And yet the jealousy clawed at him. He found himself watching her more closely, noting every text she answered, every smile she gave the office staff. Who was he? Who dared steal her?

Finally, unable to bear it, Young-joon cornered her after work.

“Marry me.”

The words slipped from his lips with the same authority he used to close billion-dollar deals.