Chapter 7: Work Overtime

Heather froze. His body temperature dropped in an instant. The fire in his eyes extinguished, turning cold as a glacier in mere seconds.

Prisley shivered involuntarily.

He was always high and mighty, surrounded by admirers, never having been teased with like this.

Prisley had been compliant for the past four years, indulging his every whim, no matter how outrageous or demanding. And now she dared to play him?

His face darkened like a storm cloud. He looked at Prisley, her once docile and pure face now like an angry kitten showing its claws and fangs.

"Very well, fulfill the contract. Perfect!" he said through gritted teeth.

Heather buttoned up his shirt. Coldly and heavily pressed a kiss onto Prisley's lips before turning to leave.

The room's amorous atmosphere vanished instantly. Prisley still felt a chill down her spine. She had actually angered him...

She pressed the back of her hand to her lips, which were a bit sore, tasting the metallic tang of blood in her mouth.

Two kisses like this from Heather in one day, and her anxiety peaked.

Heather was definitely not an easy person to get along with. Whenever he was unhappy, he could think of a hundred ways to torment her. And she was just a small ant that he could crush underfoot at any moment.

The next day was the weekend. Prisley received a call from Heather early in the morning. He said only one sentence, "Come to the office for overtime." As brief as it could be.

She didn't ask why, immediately changing clothes and heading out. Heather was a workaholic, working day and night without regard for time. When he was in one of his moods, even Christmas Eve required results. Prisley had gotten used to it over the years.

When she arrived at the office, it was still far from regular working hours, but Heather was already there.

He had taken off his suit jacket, left his tie undone, and unbuttoned two buttons on his white shirt.

"Good morning, Heather. I got coffee and pastries from your favorite shop," Prisley said, putting the bag on the desk, her face bright with a fresh morning smile.

She never held grudges with him. With such a handsome boss and such a high salary, she was quite content.

"That is the business plan for Gadget Tech Intelligence and other investment projects. Take a look," Heather said, not acknowledging her greeting. His eyes indicated the thick stack of documents on the desk.

Prisley's heart sank. This was more work than could be done in ten days or even half a month.

"Mr. Rynn, I’ve already resigned. It's not appropriate for me to take on new projects. But I can assist with some of the work."

Heather's face darkened. Prisley's prank last night had already displeased him greatly.

"Do what you're told. You can't leave until the work is done," he said coldly.

Prisley knew this was Heather deliberately making things difficult for her.

There was no point in arguing. She picked up the files silently and walked towards her office.

The thick stack of files had just been placed on the desk when Heather strode in, radiating coldness.

"Mr. Rynn, any other instructions?"

"Prisley, haven't I treated you well enough? What more do you want?" He loomed over her, his tall figure blocking the light. The pressure made Prisley too afraid to lift her head.

He had thought that after a night's sleep, Prisley would forget the unpleasantness from before and say a few soft words to cheer him up, maybe even reconsider her resignation. But instead, she stood firm against him. His pride was bruised, igniting a fiery anger within him.

Prisley took a few nervous steps back, but Heather grabbed her arm and pulled her close.

"Five million and a house aren't enough for you? How much do you want? You're afraid of clashing with Filla. Fine, that won't happen anymore," Heather said, struggling to control his anger.

Prisley looked up and sneered, "So it's true, the money and the house are to buy my dignity. I can sign a romantic contract with a single man - you pay, I sell my body, that's fine. But I won't get involved in someone else's relationship."

"You chose her, so you don't need a fake like me anymore."

She recalled Heather's words "if you pay more than enough..." and felt utterly shameful.

"So what if I'm buying your dignity? Isn't the money and the house enough? Name your price," Heather said with contempt.

"Four years ago, you told me you needed money, a lot of money. Fine, I made a deal with you. We can do that now, anytime."

"The person I was back then... is different from who I am now. I can choose not to make a deal." Prisley's face contorted with pain. A few tears rolled down her cheeks. They were tears of bitter memories.

Her mother had died when she was eleven. All her mother's paintings had been sold. But the medical bills were still unpaid, and they had borrowed a lot of money from others.

Four years ago, she had seen her mother's work in an auction catalog, with a shocking price tag. She had just graduated from college then, burdened with loans. She was unable even to enter the auction house. All she had wanted then was to make a lot of money.

Years had passed, and thanks to her career achievements and Heather's generosity, she had money. But she had scoured galleries and auction houses without ever seeing her mother's paintings again. It was a permanent wound in her heart.

Heather sneered, "What's different? You're just more expensive now."

"Everything can be bought and sold; everything has a price."

Indeed, to him, she was just a plaything. How foolish her past feelings seemed.

"Heather, I'm not selling anymore. You can go make deals with someone else. My salary these past years is enough. I’ll return all the money you gave me, and I don't want any of the things you gave me. I’ll pay the penalty in installments!"

Prisley's most painful spot had been hit, and she no longer wanted to play nice. She shouted at Heather.

The office fell into a dead silence, leaving only their heavy breathing. Both of them were heaving with anger, staring at each other with red eyes.

Heather felt a sharp pain in his heart. He finally understood that Prisley had made up her mind to leave, and he could no longer hold her back.

He felt an indescribable mix of emotions—feeling scorned, humiliated, deceived, and betrayed. All these feelings ignited within him. He suddenly pushed Prisley down onto the desk.

"You're right, you're just Filla's substitute. I'm used to you, that's all. Don't overestimate yourself and think I can't live without you!" he said, not hiding his violence.

"I don't think that, Mr. Rynn. I'm just an employee, easily replaceable," Prisley replied coldly, her voice trembling slightly.

"Good that you understand. I can let you go, but before you leave, fulfill the contract one last time. Have sex with me!”

“Right here!”

“Right now!"

He said, starting to tear off her clothes.