Chapter 1

My supervisor asked why I always left the second the clock hit quitting time. Did I have a problem with overtime?

A thought struck me, and I explained, all pitiful:

"I have to go home and cook for my husband and kids."

"If I'm even one minute late, that's one more slap."

Sure enough, the boss went quiet. Then he ordered me an express car home.

Later, my coworkers gossiped and asked why I didn't just divorce him.

I told the truth. "Because my husband's pretty rich."

That made them even more depressed.

"If he's rich, why are you out here working?"

I said, all teary, "Because when I'm at work, nobody's hitting me."

Overnight, I became the whole company's number-one charity case.

Until the CEO came back from his business trip, ground his teeth, and pinned me down in his office.

"I hear I've been beating you?"

1

Caught red-handed by Neal Stephens, I blinked and gave him an innocent little smile.

"Honey, you swore you'd never pull any strings for me at the company."

"And honestly, the way things have played out, this isn't entirely on me either."

Neal laughed out of pure exasperation and hauled me up onto the desk.

He spread both arms and boxed me in tight, then leaned down close to my lips and asked, "Oh? Then walk me through it. What exactly is on me?"

"If you can't give me a reasonable explanation, you go out there right now and clear my name. Tell them I'm not some wife-beater."

I clapped a hand over Neal's mouth, terrified someone would overhear that we were married.

Back at my own family's company, I'd lived like a mascot. Everywhere I turned there were people flattering me and currying favor.

Someone would finish my proposals before I even started. If something went wrong, people fought over who got to take the blame. Even walking out the door left foot first got me praised for being born lucky.

If I kept getting pampered like that, I was going to be spoiled into a useless lump.

That was why I joined Neal's company. Not for any other reason, just to be an ordinary employee nobody paid attention to, and to make something of myself on my own.

So I pushed Neal off and, righteously, laid out several points:

"One. Enabling employees to compete over who can grind the most overtime is not what a good boss does."

"Two. If employees are scared to leave on time, that says a certain CEO has zero warmth to him."

"Three. If I weren't trying to fight this whole overtime culture, would I really have made up something as insane as being beaten?"

Neal was somewhere between laughing and groaning.

In the end he couldn't win against me, and he grudgingly accepted the giant black mark of being a wife-beater.

He bent down, pinched my cheek, and added a condition. "From now on, you eat lunch with me every day."

"Consider it hush money. No refusing."

I nodded. As long as he didn't charge out there yelling that he was Mercedes Sullivan's husband, I'd agree to anything.

But the second I said yes, my supervisor turned around and deliberately ordered an extra takeout, quietly setting it on my desk.

Carissa Simmons, the intern I'd started with, split her sushi with me too.

"Mercy, we noticed you disappear the moment lunch rolls around."

"Is it because you can't afford to eat—"

Before she could finish, I was already waving my hands.

Afraid they'd spend too much fussing over me later, I blurted out whatever came to mind. "No, no. I have to go home at noon to cook for my husband and kids."

The air froze, and everyone's expressions turned even more complicated.

Just then, Jason Lawrence from HR lifted his head in the corner and asked, timid, "Mercy, I'm pretty sure your onboarding form last week said you were single."

Now every eye in the room landed on me.

I could only grit my teeth and keep the lie going. "Yeah… it's because my husband and I haven't gotten our marriage certificate yet."

"His family has this old rule. If you can't produce a son, they won't let you sign the papers."

"Oh, is that so?"

A familiar voice cut in out of nowhere.

My back went stiff. I turned my head slowly and met Neal leaning against the doorframe, that fully amused look in his eyes.

"I had no idea Assistant Sullivan already had a kid at such a young age."

He strolled over, and everyone shot to their feet to greet him.

He ignored them all, walked straight over, and sat down next to me, then unceremoniously tore open my takeout.

I flashed him frantic looks to get lost.

Instead he reminded me, sour as anything, "Assistant Sullivan, look at the time."

"If you don't hurry home to cook for your husband and kids, aren't you afraid you'll be late this afternoon?"

Under all those watching eyes, I had no choice but to force a smile. "Mr. Stephens, did you come by because there's something you needed?"

He crossed his long legs, sniffed the curry rice on the desk, and said, unhurried, "Oh. I got stood up for lunch."

"Happened to be passing by, and I happened to be hungry."

Neal looked ready to say more, until my glare shut him up.

He'd barely swallowed a mouthful before he turned to the room, all smiles, and asked, "I had an employee point out today that I lack warmth."

"So, in the spirit of improvement, from now on nobody minds if I eat with everyone, right?"

The work area went silent for a beat.

No one but me had any idea what Neal was even losing his mind over.

But soon enough everyone was nodding along.

To break the awkwardness, the intern Carissa steered the topic back to me.

She fumed on my behalf. "Mercy, if you ask me, you should slip some laxatives into that animal's food and just run him ragged till he drops!"

The coworkers around us chimed right in.

"Right? A dog of a man like that, poisoning him would practically earn you good karma, Mercy."

"If you ask me, Mercy should just remarry and be done with it."

The corners of my mouth curved up faintly, and I gave a mild little nod. "Fair point. I'll give it a try next time."

Directly across from me, Neal, who'd been happily devouring my homemade lunchbox, choked at my words and sprayed a mouthful of rice…