The Cost of Leaving Chapter 1

For two years, Carter Vance transferred $10,000 to me every time he spent the night at my place.

That is, until one particular morning, when I received a notification for $100,000.

[I’m getting engaged next month.]

[Received.]

I stared quietly at the pinned conversation on my phone. There was no further activity.

An hour later, I placed my resignation letter on my office desk and drove through the night back to my hometown.

Just as I was dreaming about using the money to buy a few properties and become a landlord, Carter suddenly appeared in front of me.

Suppressing his fury, his voice was dangerously hoarse: "Quinn, who gave you permission to leave?"

* * *

When I received the text alert for the $100,000 deposit, my immediate thought was that Carter had accidentally added an extra zero.

The next second, a message popped up in our pinned text thread:

[I’m getting engaged next month.]

I froze for two seconds before replying:

[Received.]

It was a brief exchange, no different from how we handled our daily business matters.

I understood his meaning perfectly.

This $100,000 was his way of telling me to leave.

He was going to marry a wealthy heiress to merge their families. As his secretary and casual bedmate, it was no longer appropriate for me to exist in his world.

I waited a long while, but no new messages appeared on the screen.

He likely felt no need to explain further, assuming I would do exactly as he wished.

After all, in his eyes, I had always been a woman who "knew her place."

I typed out a brief resignation letter, left it on my desk, took the millions I had saved up in my account, and drove through the night back to my quiet hometown.

I wanted to rest.

Being Carter Vance’s secretary for the past few years had completely exhausted me.