Keep The Assistant And My Car Chapter 1

One minute, Vicky was posting a glowing tribute to me on Instagram. The next, she was quietly driving my custom-ordered, limited-edition hypercar right off the dealership lot.

An hour later, her male assistant posted a photo from the driver’s seat to his Story.

Caption: Blessed to have a female boss who takes such good care of her team. The wind just hits different today.

She knew I lived and breathed cars. It was an obsession. Yet she had the nerve to take mine behind my back and hand the keys to him.

That night, I had my team transport every single vintage and top-tier sports car from my private garage, lining them up perfectly in the driveway.

I told her she could pick whichever one she wanted to give away next.

And then, I made a call to my father in New York. I told him I’d accept the arranged date with the heiress of the city’s biggest real estate dynasty.

I had the looks, the money, and the pedigree. There was absolutely no reason to waste another second of my life on someone who no longer loved me.

* * *

Dusk was settling over Seattle as I stood on the balcony of our waterfront estate.

A deep, arrogant roar of an engine shattered the quiet of the neighborhood. A matte-black-and-gold hypercar pulled up to our driveway.

Spencer walked around the aerodynamic hood, his steps light, and opened the passenger door with exaggerated gentleness.

A silver stiletto stepped out onto the pavement.

Vicky emerged, looking immaculate in a tailored white power suit, her fingers gripping a white Birkin. But it wasn’t her outfit that caught my attention. It was her eyes. They were locked onto Spencer—the man who had just opened her door—and there was a predatory, lingering warmth in her gaze that I hadn’t seen directed at me in years.

They exchanged a few words, and a radiant, unguarded smile broke across her face.

My phone buzzed. A notification from Twitter. Spencer had just tweeted a photo.

It was a shot taken from the passenger seat—the "girlfriend POV." Long, artistic fingers resting casually on the steering wheel, his jawline angled perfectly, a smirk playing on his lips.

Driving the boss home in the car she gifted me. Life is sweet.

In that single, crystalline moment, the floor dropped out from under me.

When the dealership had texted me earlier that afternoon, I genuinely thought Vicky was trying to surprise me. I had spent three hours in my walk-in closet, meticulously picking out an outfit for our celebratory dinner. I had waited, starving and excited, until I opened my phone and saw Spencer’s posts.

At first, I tried to rationalize it. Maybe Spencer was just posing for clout. Maybe Vicky didn't know.

But seeing that tweet confirmed it.

She had actually taken the car I had been anticipating for over six months, bypassed me entirely, and gifted it to another man.

I walked down the stairs and stepped out the front door, stopping right in front of her.

Spencer immediately took two long strides forward, physically placing himself between Vicky and me.

"Good evening, Mr. Sterling," he said, his tone dripping with fake politeness. "Vicky and I just grabbed a bite to eat after closing a deal. We’re a little late. Please don’t be mad at her."

I looked at him, the coldness behind my eyes sharpening into something lethal. It was almost laughable. Who the hell did he think he was, telling me how to treat my own girlfriend?

"I haven’t said a word yet, but you’re awfully quick to play the white knight," I said, my voice dangerously even.

Spencer’s eyes flickered, the color draining slightly from his perfectly manicured face.

I let a slow, mocking smile touch my lips. "How’s the handling on the car? Smooth?"

We were all adults here. We all knew how the game was played. A three-million-dollar hypercar wasn't something a marketing director with no trust fund like Vicky could just buy on a whim. If Spencer had the audacity to accept it, he absolutely knew who paid for it.

Spencer let out a stiff, barely audible, "Yeah."

Vicky stepped around him, putting herself in front of him, and lightly tugged at my sleeve.

"Come on, Clark," she murmured, her tone placating. "Spencer drives me to and from work every single day. I just remembered you had that car coming in, so I picked it up for him as a bonus. You have a whole fleet of sports cars. You can’t possibly care about one little car, right?"

I slipped my hands into my pockets. The corners of my mouth curled up, but my eyes remained dead.

"No. I do care."

"I waited over half a year for that car. No one touches it. Not even you, Vicky."

She recoiled, clearly not expecting me to strip away the polite veneer so abruptly. Her face darkened.

The driveway went dead silent.

Spencer pressed his lips together, saying nothing. As a man, he knew exactly why the air had turned toxic. There isn't a man alive who can stomach watching the woman he loves take his money to buy lavish gifts for another guy. Even if she justified it as an "investment in her assistant."

"Mr. Sterling, this is on me. I shouldn't have accepted the bonus from Vicky," Spencer said, playing the martyr flawlessly. "I’ll go to the DMV tomorrow, cancel the registration, and return it to the dealership."

Listen to him. Crafting the narrative to make me look like a petty tyrant.

"Spencer, was it? It’s just a car. I can afford to lose it," I said, my voice dropping an octave, carrying the effortless weight of generational wealth. "I’ve got a dozen supercars in the garage right now. Go ahead. Pick one. Consider it a gift from me."

He looked up, genuine shock breaking through his composed mask.

I stared him down, letting the silence crush him.

"Vicky and I have been together for nine years. She’s used to this kind of money, so she doesn't think handing over a hypercar is a big deal," I continued, my words slow and deliberate. "But as an assistant, you need to learn your place. You need to know what you are allowed to accept, and what you are not."

Spencer took a step back, totally outmaneuvered. He stammered out an apology.

"You’re right, Mr. Sterling. It’s my fault. Please, don’t blame Vic."

Vic?

Since when were they on a first-name nickname basis?

Vicky stepped into her stilettos, shielding Spencer entirely with her body, and wrapped her arms around my waist.

She dug into her Birkin and pulled out a bottle of cologne, flashing me a sickeningly sweet, coaxing smile.

"Okay, Your Highness," she teased. "I bought you that limited-edition cologne you used to look at. Don't be mad anymore, okay?"

I stared down at the glass bottle in her hands, and the weight of the last nine years pressed heavy on my chest.

Vicky and I had been together since our freshman year of college. Back then, she was the untouchable ice queen of the campus. Guys lined up to humiliate themselves for her attention, but she rejected them all, choosing to stand by my side.

I remember nights tangled in the sheets, her whispering fiercely against my collarbone that I was the only man she would ever love. That I was her lifeline.

But looking at her now, the fracture was undeniable.

In her eyes, I had just seen genuine admiration—and a fierce, protective instinct—directed at another man. I had seen her laugh for him in a way she hadn't for me in months.

And the cologne in her hand? It was a brand I had stopped wearing four years ago.

Her voice, a mix of scolding and sweet-talking, pulled me out of my memories.

"I know you’re only acting like this because you love me and you’re jealous," she said smoothly. "But to anyone else, it just looks like you’re bullying a junior employee."

Bullying. He wasn't even worth the effort of bullying.

I narrowed my eyes and turned toward the front door.

"The way Spencer looks at you isn’t the way an employee looks at a boss," I said coldly, pausing on the steps. "You’re a marketing director. Your entire career is built on reading people. You’re telling me you don't see it?"

"You gifted a multi-million-dollar car to a man who is clearly obsessed with you. Vicky..."

She frowned, her tone taking on a defensive, dramatic edge.

"Oh, stop it! There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Spencer. Not now, not ever."

I studied her face. I let the silence stretch out before I nodded, accepting her hollow reassurance for the night.

I had loved this woman for nearly a decade. We had built a life together. Throwing a massive tantrum over a mildly attractive assistant felt beneath me. I had made my point, and I was getting my car back.

There was no point in burning the house down tonight.

Especially since I didn’t have hard proof of their emotional affair. Yet.