After Choosing Her Secretary, She Regretted Losing MeChapter 1
When I got into the car accident, Verity Walker, my girlfriend, passed by with her male secretary. She slowed down the moment she caught sight of me, bloodied and wrestling in pain, though rather than extending a hand, she leaned out the window and hurled a cutting remark my way.
“Don’t worry about him; he’s not going to die!” She jeered before speeding off, leaving me in a state of disbelief.
Later that evening, I huddled in the dim corner of my bedroom, a heavy sense of unease settling over me.
As my eyes drifted to the open closet, something caught my attention—among my hung clothes was a pair of men’s underwear that didn’t belong to me.
Without hesitation, I shut the closet door and picked up my phone.
“President Everett,” I uttered, calm and composed. “I’ve made my decision. I’ll be ready to leave the city next week and join your company.”
“That’s excellent news, Tyron,” he responded, satisfied. “We’re excited to have you on board.”
...
As I ended the call, the bathroom door creaked open, and Verity emerged. Her long hair hung damp around her shoulders. She had always been quick in the shower, thirty minutes tops, but recently, she spent at least two hours locked away with her phone.
“Who were you just talking to?” she asked, curious.
When she asked, her eyes stayed glued to her phone. I told her I had just spoken to President Everett.
“Oh,” was all she said, her voice distant, like she hadn’t processed a word. I didn’t push it; those days of trying to make her care were long behind me.
Instead, I quietly started drafting my resignation letter on my phone, fingers moving steadily across the screen.
Verity reached for her cup but paused when she realized the coffee I used to make for her every night wasn’t there. Her cold gaze finally shifted toward me.
“Tyron,” she began. “I took your CT report to an orthopedic specialist. He said your leg only has minor surface injuries. Just be careful not to get the wound wet.”
I barely looked up, still typing. “Okay, I’ll be careful,” I replied, my tone calm, indifferent.
During the afternoon, I found myself facing eight stitches in my calf from the accident. To complicate things further, three of my toes on the left foot had been amputated due to necrosis from blood loss.