Chapter 1

On the day Naomi Alder rose from the ashes, she secretly brought her childhood sweetheart—the one who had abandoned her years ago—into the company behind my back.

When I found out, she swore in front of me, "I only want to punish him. I don't have even the slightest feelings for him."

I did not lose control. Instead, I made him Naomi's assistant.

Tristan Sawyer assured me with absolute certainty, "Don't worry. Between her and me, it will only ever be a superior-subordinate relationship. I would never come between you."

I believed him. After all, back when Alder Co. went bankrupt, Tristan had humiliated Naomi in every possible way just to break free from her.

It was not until the car accident, when Naomi threw herself forward without hesitation to protect him, that I finally understood. All these years, she had never let him go.

When Naomi woke up in the hospital, she had lost her memory. Looking at Tristan and me standing by her bedside, she asked, "Who are you?"

This time, I pointed at Tristan and spoke first. "Ms. Alder, this is your husband. I'm your assistant."

Chapter 1 Giving Her Back

Tristan pulled me out of the hospital room, his expression sharp with disbelief. "Why did you lie to her?"

"Because I know you're the one she loves," I answered evenly. He hesitated, clearly conflicted. So, I added, "Don't worry. We haven't registered our marriage."

Hearing that, he pressed on, "You stayed with her through thick and thin for seven years. You're really willing to give her up to me?"

I nodded, steady and unruffled. "There's nothing to be unwilling about."

In fact, I should have been thanking him.

The moment Naomi had been thrown into the air by the car, something had flashed through my mind—fragments of a future that had not happened yet.

I saw Naomi and Tristan trapped in endless arguments. Even after losing her memory, she still loved him somewhere deep in her subconscious. And when her memories returned, she would finally realize that the one she truly loved was Tristan.

To make it up to him, she would personally send me—the obstacle standing in the way of their reunion—into a psychiatric hospital. In the end, I would die in a strange fire, leaving nothing behind.

After seeing how it all ended, I suddenly had no desire to keep entangling myself any further.

A flicker of barely concealed elation flashed across Tristan's eyes, though he quickly suppressed the curve of his lips. Biting down on them, he put on a reluctant expression. "Naomi has amnesia right now. She does need someone to take care of her. Since you insist, I'll look after her for now. But if she regains her memory and blames me—"

"I'll deal with the consequences," I cut him off. "It has nothing to do with you."

Only then did Tristan finally relax. He straightened his collar and turned back toward the hospital room.

I followed behind him, the payment receipt still in my hand. Watching him walk toward Naomi, I felt no bitterness at all, only a strange lightness, like setting down a burden that had weighed on me for years.

On the hospital bed, Naomi lay with thick bandages wrapped around her head. The moment Tristan walked in, her eyes lit up.

That kind of look could not be faked. Even if her mind had forgotten, her heart still chose for her. Just like in the split second of the accident when she had instinctively shielded Tristan.

And me? I had been sitting in the back seat, watching the airbags deploy, watching her collapse into his arms, covered in blood.

I should have understood it then. Seven years of devotion could not compare to a single tear from her childhood sweetheart.

"Honey?" Naomi called out tentatively, her gaze locked tightly onto Tristan.

He froze, instinctively turning back to look at me. My face remained blank. I even gave him a slight nod, mouthing two silent words, "Answer her."

Tristan took a deep breath. In an instant, his face softened into a look full of tenderness and concern. He strode over and took Naomi's hand. "I'm here, Naomi. I'm right here."

She let out a breath of relief and tightened her grip around his hand. "You scared me. I thought I lost you. My head hurts so much… Did I sleep for a long time?"

Watching the two of them fall so naturally into each other's world, I felt like an unwanted presence.

Back when Naomi had even the slightest headache or fever, I stayed by her bedside day and night—feeding her, giving her medicine, wiping her down, massaging her.

She had taken it all for granted.

Now, her entire world was filled with another man.

"Ms. Alder."

I spoke in a strictly professional tone, breaking the intimate atmosphere.

Naomi turned to look at me, her brows knitting slightly. "You seem… familiar. You are…"

Tristan suddenly panicked, his gaze darting toward me.

Chapter 2 Passing the Burden

I gave him a subtle look to reassure him, then lied without the slightest change in expression. "Connor Brooks, your personal assistant. Since you've woken up, Ms. Alder, there are still many urgent matters at the company that need handling. I won't disturb you and your husband any further."

I lowered my head slightly, my tone respectful and distant.

Naomi seemed a little unsettled by my attitude. She unconsciously licked her dry lips, her eyes lingering for a brief second on the glass of water I had placed on the table.

In the past, I would have already brought it to her lips, even testing the temperature beforehand. But now, I did not move at all.

Naomi waited for two seconds. When I did not react, her frown deepened. She turned to Tristan, her voice carrying a faint trace of softness. "Honey, I want some water."

It was obvious Tristan had never taken care of anyone before. He fumbled awkwardly as he poured a glass of water, but it was too hot. The moment he handed it over, Naomi flinched from the heat.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Tristan panicked, hurriedly grabbing tissues to wipe at her hand.

Although Naomi had been burned, she still endured the pain and comforted him instead. "It's fine. It's not your fault. I was just too impatient."

There it was—the difference between love and indifference.

In the past, if I made her coffee even slightly too strong, she would scold me coldly for ages, saying I could not even handle something so simple. Now Tristan had burned her, and she was the one soothing him.

A cold laugh flickered through my mind. I took out a set of keys and an access card from my bag and placed them on the bedside table.

"Mr. Sawyer, I'll leave Ms. Alder's care to you during her hospitalization. Also, Ms. Alder is allergic to seafood, doesn't eat parsley, is particular about her pillow, and must have a cup of warm black coffee every morning." I delivered it all in one breath, my words quick and precise.

Tristan stood there, slightly stunned, nodding instinctively as he tried to take it all in.

Naomi looked at me, a trace of confusion flickering in her eyes. "How do you know all that so clearly?"

I met her gaze plainly and smiled. "As your personal assistant, understanding your daily habits is part of my job. Since Mr. Sawyer is here, those responsibilities naturally should be handed over to him. After all, some personal matters aren't appropriate for an assistant to handle."

Naomi was left speechless. She seemed to sense that something was wrong, but she could not quite place it. In the end, she waved her hand impatiently. "Alright, go take care of your work."

"Yes, Ms. Alder."

I did not hesitate for a second. I turned and walked out.

However, just as I reached the door, Naomi's voice came from behind me. "Wait."

I paused but did not turn back.

"Um… have the medical bills been paid?"

So that was what she cared about.

I turned around and lifted the receipt in my hand. "They've already been covered through the company account. The amount will be deducted from your dividends later. Please focus on recovering, Ms. Alder. The company is in good hands with me."

With that, I pulled the door open and strode out.

The moment it closed behind me, I heard Tristan complain, "What kind of assistant is that? So cold, not a shred of warmth."

Naomi fell silent for a moment before replying softly, "Maybe people who are good at their jobs are just like that."

As I stepped out of the inpatient building, I took a deep breath. The air carried a mix of disinfectant and the faint fragrance of lily.

'How nice. I'm still alive.'

I took out my phone, unpinned Naomi's contact, and changed her name from "Wife" to "Ms. Alder."

At last, I did not have to play housekeeper anymore.

I only wondered how many days Tristan—the pampered heir who had never lifted a finger in his life—could keep this up. After all, Naomi's temper was something even her own mother could not stand.

For the past seven years, I had spoiled her. Now, it was someone else's turn to deal with the consequences.

Chapter 3 No Love, Just Power

The first thing I did after returning to the company was clear the photo of Naomi and me from my desk.

Just before tossing it into the trash, my hand paused.

In the photo, I was smiling softly, my eyes filled with nothing but that confident, radiant woman.

Back then, to help her build the company, I ran deals during the day and accompanied her to business dinners at night.

I pushed my body to its limit more than once. Even when my stomach condition grew serious and I vomited blood, I never told her.

She used to say, "Connor, when the company goes public, we'll make up for it with a grand wedding."

Now the company was finally on the verge of going public, but that promise had been given to another man.

My expression remained blank as I let go. With a soft thud, the frame fell into the wastebasket, burying those seven years of youth along with it.

"Connor, Mr. Kingsley's contract…"

Jamie, an assistant, pushed the door open, then froze at what I was doing.

At the company, everyone had always called me Connor. Even though I was a co-founder, I had willingly stayed in Naomi's shadow to preserve her authority.

"From now on, call me Mr. Brooks." I lifted my head, my gaze sharp. "Bring me the contract. And notify all department heads that we're having a meeting in 30 minutes."

Jamie blinked, then straightened immediately. "Yes, Mr. Brooks!"

…

In the span of one afternoon, I dealt with half a month's worth of Naomi's backlog with decisive efficiency. Problems I once had to handle cautiously to preserve Naomi's image were now cut through cleanly and without hesitation.

It felt good. Better than anything I had ever felt before. So this was what it felt like to focus on making money without being dragged down by a relationship. It was almost addictive.

By the time I finally left the office, it was already ten at night. My body was exhausted, but my mind was unusually clear.

My phone lit up. It was a WhatsApp photo and message from Tristan.

The photo was taken in a private hospital room with Naomi leaned against the headboard while Tristan fed her soup.

The message beneath read, 'I'm exhausted, but seeing how much she relies on me makes it all worth it.'

I tapped to enlarge the image.

The soup was just hospital cafeteria chicken noodle soup, with a thick layer of oil and parsley floating on top. Naomi's brows were tightly furrowed, and there was even a bit of chopped scallion clinging to the corner of her lips.

I could not help but laugh.

Naomi had always been particular to a fault. When she was hospitalized before, the soup she drank had to be something I simmered for three hours myself. The noodles had to be soft, the meat finely diced, with not even a trace of that gamey taste.

And now?

It seemed love really was powerful, powerful enough to make her swallow something like that without complaint.

I casually replied with a smiling emoji, then turned off my phone and went to sleep.

That night, for the first time in seven years, I slept soundly.

Chapter 4 Taking Back What's Mine

Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by a shrill, insistent ringtone.

It was an unfamiliar number, but I already knew who it was.

The moment I answered, Naomi's irritable voice came through. "Connor! Where the hell have you been? Where's my coffee? Do you even know what time it is?"

Listening to that all-too-familiar tone of command, I calmly poured myself a glass of milk.

"Ms. Alder, it's seven-thirty in the morning. According to labor laws, this is my personal time. As for your coffee, shouldn't your husband be handling that now?"

There was a brief silence on the other end, then Tristan's voice came through, thick with tears. "Naomi, it's my fault. I didn't know you only drink that kind of coffee… That machine was too complicated. I think I broke it, and I still couldn't figure it out…"

Instantly, Naomi's tone softened into concern. "It's okay. It's not your fault. Connor didn't tell you."

Then, she snapped back at me, her voice rising. "Connor, you're my assistant. Can't you even handle something this basic? Get to the hospital right now! Bring my coffee and a change of clothes! If I don't see you in thirty minutes, you're fired!"

And with that, the call ended.

I stared at the darkened screen, a cold smile tugging at my lips.

'Fire me? Naomi, you've probably forgotten. Half of this company's shares are under my name. Back then, to put your mind at ease, I signed a proxy holding agreement so you could stand in the spotlight. But now… It's time I took back what's mine.'

I finished my milk leisurely, then headed straight to the company's legal department instead of going out to buy her coffee or bringing her clothes.

"Draft a shareholding confirmation agreement." I paused, my gaze turning cold. "And look into the cash flow of the company's recent projects. I suspect someone has been misappropriating funds."

Only after handling that did I take a cab to the hospital, unhurried.

By the time I pushed open the door to Naomi's room, it was already ten in the morning.

The room was a mess.

Coffee had spilled all over the floor, and pieces of a broken cup were scattered everywhere. Tristan was crouched on the ground, crying, a bandage wrapped around his finger. Naomi sat on the bed with a dark expression, looking worn down and irritable.

The moment she saw me, the anger in her eyes flared. "Connor! Look at the time! Do you have a problem understanding orders?"

Stepping around the mess, I walked to the foot of the bed, crossing my arms as I looked down at her. "Ms. Alder, that temper of yours isn't good for your recovery. The line at the café was too long, so I didn't get the coffee. As for your clothes…"

My gaze flicked to the pile of dirty laundry tossed in the corner. They were the clothes she had changed out of the day before. Clearly, Tristan had found them too dirty to touch.

"It seems Mr. Sawyer isn't very good at household chores. Perhaps you should hire a caretaker, Ms. Alder. After all, I'm an assistant, not a housekeeper."

Naomi let out a humorless laugh. Her fingers trembled with anger as she pointed at me. "Very good, Connor. Do you think the company can't function without you? Don't make me fire you this instant!"

Tristan stood up as well, wiping his tears, looking as though he had suffered a great injustice. "Mr. Brooks, I know you have issues with me, but Naomi is a patient. How can you treat her like this? I may be clumsy, but at least I'm trying to learn. And you? All you do is sneer and mock!"

'They really do make a perfect pair.'

"Fire me?" I took a document out of my bag and placed it lightly on the bedside table. "Ms. Alder, before you do that, I suggest you take a look at this."