I Won't Accept Your Remorse Chapter 2

No one ironed Ashton's suit, picked out his ties, or shined his shoes.

At 7:00 am, the master bedroom door swung open.

Ashton stepped out in his pajamas, his hair a messy tangle. The moment he saw the empty dining table, his expression darkened. "Where's breakfast?"

I finished the last sip of my milk and put the glass in the dishwasher. "I'm not hungry."

"I asked about my breakfast." His tone was the exact one he used with his employees.

Actually, no. He treated his employees with more courtesy than he ever showed me.

I wiped the corner of my mouth and said nothing.

Ashton stared at me for a few seconds, then slammed the bedroom door shut behind him.

Ten minutes later, he came out fully dressed with a briefcase in hand. As he passed my way, he paused.

He was probably waiting for me to rush over, straighten his tie, and slip a bottle of water into his bag just like I always did.

Instead, I sat on the couch and scrolled through my phone without even glancing up.

A quiet scoff sounded above me, laced with pure annoyance.

A second later, the front door was slammed shut with a thunderous bang.

I knew Ashton was furious.

If things went the way they usually did, I'd be getting the silent treatment for a long while.

But after chasing him for two years and catering to his every whim for eight, I decided that it was time to look out for myself.

After all, I had spent years shortchanging myself for him.

Back in college, Ashton was the golden boy of the finance department.

With his rich family, good looks, and top grades, he drew eyes wherever he went—mine included.

I still remembered him dominating the debate stage with effortless charisma.

I remembered him walking under the sycamore trees in his crisp white shirts.

I remembered the time he casually picked up a textbook I'd dropped, handing it back to me without a second glance before walking away.

That single moment hooked me, marking the beginning of a two-year pursuit.

I began waking up at 6:00 am every morning just to secure the seat right behind his usual spot in lecture halls.

Ashton loved black coffee, so I would line up at the cafe in front of the school gates 20 minutes before it opened.

I did it in the freezing winter, and I did it in the pouring rain.

Once, during a heavy snowstorm, the cafe was closed. I ran three blocks just to find another place that was open.

By the time I handed him the cup, the coffee was still hot, but my hands were completely numb.

Ashton took it, sipped it, and murmured, "Not bad."

Those two words kept me riding high for an entire week.

Later, I started organizing his club paperwork, printing his theses, and standing in line to submit his assignments.

He never said no, but he never reached out first either.

When I told my roommate I was pursuing him, she asked, "Is he actually into you?"

I thought about it for a long time before replying, "Well, he isn't rejecting me, so he must be."

Looking back, I was incredibly naive.

During graduation year, Ashton landed a management trainee spot at Holt Group, while three top-tier investment banks were fighting over my résumé.

I was supposed to go to Apex Corp. I had passed the interviews and signed the offer.

But then Ashton said just one thing to me. "Sylvia, come to Holt Group. I need someone I can actually trust by my side."

That was all it took. And so, I turned down Apex Corp.

My advisor slammed his hands on his desk in frustration, telling me that I was the biggest idiot he had ever taught.

But I didn't think I was an idiot back then.

At the time, hearing Ashton say he "needed me" felt like the ultimate romantic gesture.

Once I joined Holt Group, I was placed in the investment analysis department. Three months later, I was reassigned as Ashton's personal assistant.

He had signed the transfer order himself.

I saw it as a sign of trust, closeness, and proof that my two years of pursuing him had finally paid off.

In my first year as his assistant, I made his breakfast, managed his documents, and wrote his market analysis reports on the side.

He put his name on those reports, which I thought was only natural. I was just his assistant, so of course they went out under his name.