All Chapters of His Sassy Secretary: Lia’s Revenge: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Ophelia’s POV If working for Aaron Donovan was a battle, today felt like a war. I’d braced myself for his sharp tone and relentless demands, but his mood had somehow soured even further overnight. It was as though he’d taken every frustration in his life and channeled it into a laser-focused determination to make my day miserable. “Miss Lewis,” his voice crackled through the intercom for the fourth time that morning, sharp and commanding, “where’s the research file for the Harris project?” “It’s on your desk, Mr. Donovan,” I replied, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. “Not in the right spot,” he muttered, and I heard the faint shuffling of papers on his end. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll be there in a moment.” Walking into his office felt like stepping onto a battlefield. Aaron sat at his desk, his dark hair slightly disheveled—a rare sign that something was truly bothering him. Despite his usual composure, there was a tension in the air that was hard to ignor

Ophelia’s POV The morning light filtered through the tall windows of the Donovan Corporation office, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. I sat at my desk, sipping my coffee, trying to gather my thoughts. The past week had been a whirlwind of meetings, phone calls, and endless demands from Aaron. It seemed like no matter how hard I worked to stay ahead of everything, he was always one step ahead, pushing me further than I ever thought I could go. But that was Aaron Donovan, wasn’t it? A ruthless businessman who knew exactly how to push people to their limits. And somehow, he had me wrapped around his finger. The thought unsettled me, yet there was no denying that I was constantly drawn to him, even if I tried to deny it. I glanced at the clock. It was almost time for Aaron’s morning briefing, a ritual I had become all too familiar with. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, preparing the final set of documents he requested. Every time I felt like I had the hang o

Ophelia’s POV It’s been days since the meeting, and yet, the tension between Mr. Donovan and me still lingers in the air. It’s like a constant hum, vibrating just beneath the surface, threatening to break through every time our eyes meet. But I can’t afford to acknowledge it. Not now, not when I have so much at stake. Mr. Donovan remains an enigma to me. At times, he seems cold, almost distant, but then there are moments when his gaze softens when he looks at me with something unreadable behind his eyes. I’ve worked with many bosses, but there’s something different about him. There’s a layer to him, buried deep beneath the surface, that calls to me in ways I can’t quite explain. It’s frustrating. I don’t need this distraction. As his assistant, it’s my job to stay detached, to focus solely on my tasks, and to be efficient and reliable. But Mr. Donovan is… complicated. Today, as I walk into his office with a stack of files in my hands, I can’t help but notice how his eyes flicker u

Ophelia’s POV I stand in front of the mirror, my reflection staring back at me with a mix of exhaustion and resolve. Another day, another moment spent pretending that I’m fine, pretending that I don’t feel the weight of the world pressing down on me. But even the most polished facade can’t hide the truth, and the truth is—I’m tired. I sigh and run my hands through my hair, smoothing out the slight frizz that always seems to appear at the most inconvenient times. I’ve never been one to focus on my appearance too much, but lately, I’ve been doing everything I can to keep myself together. I need to be strong. I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not when everything is at stake. I’m just an assistant, right? That’s what I keep telling myself. I’m just here to do a job, to bide my time until I can get what’s mine back. The company. My father’s legacy. I can’t lose sight of that, no matter how much my feelings start to get tangled up in the mess of it all. I glance at the clock on the

Aaron’s POV The office is quiet. Too quiet. The hum of the air conditioner, the faint tapping of my pen against the desk — all of it feels like noise, a distraction from the thoughts I can’t seem to shut out. I sit at my desk, staring at the stack of papers in front of me, but I’m not reading. Not really. My mind keeps drifting back to her. Ophelia. It’s been a few days since our last interaction, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling that things are different. That something is shifting between us, even though neither of us has acknowledged it. Her professional composure, that icy distance she maintains—it’s starting to crack, just a little. And it bothers me more than it should. She’s my assistant, nothing more. That’s all she is, and all she’ll ever be. But every time she enters the room, every time she speaks, there’s this pulse of something I can’t define. She doesn’t make it easy either. She keeps her eyes lowered, her posture perfect, her movements precise. But there’s so