Chapter 2

Only after extracting every piece of data and putting everything back in its exact place did I allow my body to collapse.

Waves of searing stomach pain ripped through me. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up everything from that evening’s corporate dinner.

Five hours ago, I had been standing beside banquet tables, pouring drinks for lecherous board members and investors.

"You know what they say—a secretary takes care of business during the day, and takes care of the boss all night. Sounds like our Mr. Sterling has it all figured out."

"Jane's performance in the office is top-notch. I bet her performance behind closed doors is even wilder."

The middle-aged executives, with their protruding beer bellies, had stared at me with disgusting, predatory eyes, tossing around vile locker-room jokes.

"Jane is indeed our most capable employee," Vincent had said, sitting calmly among them, raising his glass and passively encouraging their harassment.

Seeing Vincent offer zero protection, they pushed further.

They filled my glass with liquor again and again.

"A toast to Jane's selfless dedication to the company!"

"And another to how well she serves Mr. Sterling!"

Cheered on by the drunken crowd, I was forced to down glass after glass of harsh tequila, enduring their wandering hands along the way.

Alcohol spilled down the corner of my lips as I clenched my jaw tight.

If it weren’t for the mission I still needed to complete, I would never have suffered this humiliation.

Dizziness washed over me as the alcohol hit my bloodstream. Shoved by someone from behind, I fell helplessly into Vincent’s lap.

Yet, whether as an indispensable assistant of three years or as his secret lover, Vincent showed not an ounce of care.

Through the haze, I heard him whisper into his phone:

"Did you get the shot? Proof that Jane threw herself at me. That should shut the old man up about my personal life."

Only then did he drag my half-conscious body back to the penthouse.

The hangover pills barely helped.

After dry-heaving over the toilet until my throat burned, I collapsed on the floor, checked that the USB drive was hidden safely in my bra, and finally let my eyes slip shut.

When I woke up, I was in the guest suite. Vincent’s private physician was sitting beside me.

"How is she?" Vincent asked from the doorway.

His face was pale, with dark circles under his eyes. It seemed his night with his new fiancée hadn't been as peaceful as he pretended.

"Acute alcohol poisoning and severe gastritis. I gave her an IV. She needs rest and a bland diet."

Satisfied that I wasn't dying, Vincent barked a few cold instructions and left for the office.

The moment his sports car sped off, the doctor turned to me with a serious expression.

"You're pregnant. Did you know?"

"I do now," I whispered after a brief silence. "Please don't tell him. I'll handle it myself."

He hesitated, but eventually nodded.

A few days later, right after I handed the USB drive to a digital forensics expert to recover deleted files, Vincent’s call buzzed in.

"You’re done resting, right? Tiffany is throwing a massive welcome-back party tonight, and she specifically demanded that I bring you."

"Play nice and cater to her. I need this merger to go through smoothly."

I knew Tiffany had nothing good planned for me. But to confirm one vital piece of the puzzle, I had to be there.