Reborn After His Betrayal: The CEO's Regret

PROLOGUE For three years, I was Ethan Sterling’s executive assistant. And for three years, I was his secret lover. Finally, I thought I got what I had always waited for: a marriage license. Until a freak accident in his study led me to a completely different marriage certificate. In the spouse column, stamped in bold ink, was the name of his first love—the one he had never gotten over: Nicole Vance. I rushed straight to the county clerk’s office to verify it. The clerk took one look at my paper and told me the bitter truth: my marriage to Ethan Sterling was completely fake. The very day Nicole returned to the country, Ethan walked her into the company headquarters himself. Right in front of the entire staff, he announced, "This is my fiancée." The next second, intimate photos of Ethan and me blew up on the internet, hitting the trending page instantly. Thousands of strangers flooded the comments, tearing me apart and branding me a shameless home-wrecker. Ethan looked at me with pure, icy detachment, waiting for me to bow my head and apologize just like I always did. Not this time. I am done serving you. Ethan Sterling, you spent three years feeding me a web of lies. Now, I am going to make you pay for every single one of them. Elena's POV For three years, I was Ethan Sterling’s executive assistant. And for three years, I was his secret lover. I knew every single one of his habits. I knew he took exactly half a sugar cube in his black coffee, and I knew that when his insomnia flared up, he needed a candle scented with silver fir burning beside his bed. I also knew that the third shelf of the cedar bookcase in his private study was strictly off-limits. Except for Ethan himself, nobody was ever allowed to touch it. Today, though, the housekeeper accidentally knocked over a heavy stack of hardcover books while dusting. The impact jarred the bottom drawer—the one that had been locked for years—popping it open just an inch. I knelt down to gather the fallen books, and my eyes immediately caught the dark crimson booklet tucked at the very bottom. My heart skipped a beat. Three years ago, on a rainy afternoon, a heavily intoxicated Ethan had ordered his assistant to bring over two sets of documents for me to sign. He told me they were property transfer agreements. Later that same night, he handed me a certified marriage certificate and said coldly, "The paperwork is done. But given my status, we can’t make it public." That certificate—the proof of my marriage—had been kept safe in my bedroom vault ever since. My hand reached out, trembling slightly as I picked up the extra marriage certificate from the drawer. The second I flipped it open, the breath was knocked clean out of my lungs. The names printed in the spouse column were unmistakably clear: Ethan Sterling and Nicole Vance. The date of registration was October 12th, three years ago. My fingertips shook uncontrollably. October 12th. I remembered that date down to the minute. It was the day after Nicole had left for Europe—and the exact same day Ethan had tossed that marriage certificate onto my desk. Which one was real? I didn't even grab a coat. Snatching my car keys, I bolted out of the villa, tore down the driveway, and sped all the way to the county courthouse. Sitting across from the records clerk, I slid my ID and the marriage certificate I had brought from my safe through the glass partition. "Excuse me, could you please verify my marital status?" My voice was tight, strung so thin it felt like it would snap. The clerk typed away on her keyboard, her brow furrowing deeper with every keystroke. When she finally looked up at me, her eyes were filled with sharp suspicion. "Ma'am, this document is a forgery. There is zero record of a marriage between you and Ethan Sterling in our system." A deafening buzz exploded inside my head. "That's impossible... Could you please check Ethan Sterling's status, then? Is he married?" The clerk clicked her mouse a few more times before speaking in a completely flat tone. "Ethan Sterling is legally married. His spouse is listed as Nicole Vance. Registered three years ago, on October 12th. Ma'am, forging official documents is a crime. Since it appears you were genuinely unaware, I'm confiscating and destroying this fake." A fake. The piece of paper I had treasured for three years, the one I touched every single night before going to sleep, was nothing more than a scrap of trash Ethan had used to keep me on a leash. When I walked out of the courthouse, the sky had turned a bruising gray. An icy gust of wind whipped dead leaves across the concrete, stinging against my thin sweater. I was shivering down to my marrow, my teeth chattering uncontrollably, yet I couldn't squeeze out a single tear. Three years of living together as husband and wife. I truly thought I was Ethan’s secret bride, hidden away from the spotlight. But the truth was, I wasn't even a wife at all. In the eyes of the law, and in the depths of Ethan Sterling’s heart, I had never been anything more than a dirty little secret.Elena's POV When I got back to the villa, I pushed open the heavy front door. A single floor lamp cast a dim, amber glow across the living room. Ethan stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. The man who was notoriously ruthless and cutthroat in the corporate world radiated a tender warmth right now that I had never once seen from him. "Nicole, honey, what time is your flight getting in?" His voice was deep, soft, and thick with an anticipation he didn't even bother trying to hide. I stood frozen in the shadows by the entryway, completely unable to react. I knew all about the woman he called Nicole. Three years ago, Nicole had insisted on moving abroad to chase her dream of becoming an artist. Ethan had abandoned a multibillion-dollar corporate summit just to stand in the airport terminal for an entire day and night, waiting for her to change her mind. It had rained relentlessly that day. Ethan hadn't carried an umbrella. He had walked back to his car like a hollow shell, then locked himself in his penthouse, drowning in booze day after day. He drank until his stomach ruptured, vomiting blood and bile all over the floor. And I was the one who stayed by his side. I was the one who knelt on the floor cleaning up his mess, the one who brewed honey water for him and stayed awake through the night watching his IV drip. Whenever his explosive rage took over and he smashed every reflective surface in the apartment, I quietly swept up every broken shard, letting the glass slice my own hands to ribbons. Then, late one stormy night, so wasted he could barely keep his balance, he pulled me into his arms for the very first time. There were no words of love. No promises. Not even the slightest hint of romance. He just took from me, wildly and desperately, like a freezing man clinging to a fire just to survive the winter. That night, I was foolish enough to believe I had finally found a way into his heart. Over the next three years, he gave me a black card with no limit, bought this multimillion-dollar luxury villa in the heart of the city, and showered me with every material possession imaginable—everything except a legitimate title. I naively believed that the secret marriage certificate was his way of protecting me from the cutthroat world outside. I told myself that if I was just obedient enough, gentle enough, and devoted enough, he would eventually take my hand and walk me into the light. Only now did I realize that nothing he gave me was love. It was charity. I was just a stand-in while Nicole was away, a piece of trash he could toss in the bin the second she returned. "All right, I’ll pick you up myself," Ethan said, hanging up the phone. He turned around, his eyes locking onto mine as I stood by the door. A faint smile still lingered at the corners of his lips, but the moment he realized it was me, the warmth vanished, replaced by his usual cold indifference. "Where have you been?" He tossed his phone onto the couch and loosened his tie. I looked at him, staring at the face I had loved with every fiber of my being for four whole years. It felt like something was caught in my throat, choking me, impossible to swallow down and impossible to cough up. "Just... out for a walk," I heard myself say, my voice unnervingly calm. "Don't touch the things in my study," Ethan said as he walked toward me. His gaze dropped to my bare wrist, and his brow twitched. "Why aren't you wearing the bracelet I bought you at the auction?" "I don't like it," I murmured, casting my eyes downward. Ethan didn't notice anything off about me. Or rather, he simply didn't care enough to notice. He glanced at his luxury watch and handed down his orders with typical clinical detachment. "We have an early executive meeting tomorrow. Get to the office early to prep. Also, clear out the director's office next to mine and have it redecorated. Go with a vintage French aesthetic." I lifted my head and looked straight into his eyes. "Who is it for?" Ethan looked back at me, his gaze unapologetic and downright cruel. "Nicole is coming home tomorrow. She’s joining the firm as our new Director of Special Projects." The very last shred of hope inside me was ripped to shreds. Nicole was back, and I—the placeholder who had kept her seat warm for three years—was expected to roll out the red carpet for her myself. "Understood, Mr. Sterling," I replied softly, dipping my head with the practiced perfection of an executive assistant. Ethan seemed satisfied with my obedience. He reached out, casually attempting to stroke my hair, but I subtly tilted my head and stepped out of his reach. His hand froze in midair, a flicker of annoyance passing through his eyes before he let his arm drop. "I won't be home tonight. I have a dinner meeting," he said coldly. Grabbing his coat, he walked out of the villa without a backward glance. The second the heavy front door clicked shut, my knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the freezing marble floor. I didn't cry. I just bit down on the back of my hand, biting down hard until I tasted the metallic tang of fresh blood. These past three years had been nothing more than an absurd, sick joke. And now, the joke was over.Elena's POV On Monday morning, the tension on the executive floor of Sterling Enterprises was thick enough to suffocate someone. Every single employee had arrived half an hour early, and the air was practically humming with anxiety. Word had already spread: a new Director of Special Projects was being parachuted in today, escorted personally by Ethan Sterling himself. At nine o'clock sharp, the executive elevator chimed with a crisp ding. The doors slid open, and Ethan stepped out wearing a bespoke charcoal-gray suit, carrying himself with effortless dominance. Walking beside him was a woman in a cream Chanel skirt suit, a soft brown cashmere wrap draped over her shoulders. She was stunning, but not in an intimidating way; she possessed that delicate, fragile beauty that naturally made people want to protect her. She had her head tilted up, whispering something to Ethan. He leaned down slightly to listen, a rare, genuine smile playing on his lips. The entire open-plan office fell dead silent. I stood behind the executive assistant desk, holding a cup of freshly brewed black coffee. It was Ethan’s morning ritual. Ethan stopped in the center of the floor, his sharp gaze sweeping over the staff. His voice was commanding, carrying an absolute authority that left no room for debate. "Everyone, pause what you're doing for a moment. I'd like to introduce Nicole Vance, our new Director of Special Projects. And..." He paused, not looking at anyone in particular, his eyes settling solely on Nicole. "...my fiancée." Fiancée. The word detonated in my ears like a bomb. The black coffee inside the paper cup was over a hundred and ninety degrees, the blistering heat searing through the cardboard right into my palms. It burned my fingers raw, yet I felt completely numb to the pain, frozen in place like a statue. "Good morning, everyone. It's lovely to meet you all. I'm Nicole Vance," she said with a sweet, radiant smile. Her eyes swept across the room and locked onto me behind the reception desk with deadly accuracy. She took slow, deliberate steps toward me, the sharp clatter of her designer heels muffled only by the plush wool carpet. "You must be Elena," Nicole said softly, her voice dripping with warmth. "Ethan talks about you all the time. He told me you're the most capable assistant he's ever had, and that you've taken wonderful care of him these past three years." These past three years. Taken care of him. Capable assistant. Every single syllable was a calculated strike to mark her territory; every word was a deliberate slap across my face. I slowly set the scalding coffee cup down on the desk. My fingertips were blistered red and throbbing, but I lifted my chin and met Nicole’s thinly veiled, mocking gaze with complete composure. "Welcome, Ms. Vance. I was simply doing my job. Caring for him is hardly the right term," I said, my voice steady, sounding like an entirely detached observer. A few feet away, Ethan cast a brief glance in my direction. "All right, back to work, everyone. Elena, bring the project dossiers to the director's office," Ethan said, cutting the tension before turning to escort Nicole into her newly renovated vintage French office. The rest of the morning dragged on under a suffocating cloud. Then, right around two in the afternoon, the quiet office suddenly erupted into hushed, frantic whispers. "Oh my God, check Twitter right now!" "Who the hell took these photos? This is insane!" "Wait, isn't that Elena? Has she been sleeping with Mr. Sterling behind his fiancée's back?" I looked up from my mountain of paperwork to find my colleagues staring at me with disgust and morbid fascination. The junior assistant at the next desk leaned over, her voice barely audible. "Elena... you really need to check Ins." I unlocked my phone. The number one trending topic was screaming in bold letters: #SterlingEnterprisesCEO #FiancéeReturns #SecretMistressExposed.Elena's POV I clicked the hashtag, and a series of crystal-clear paparazzi photos filled my screen. They had been taken three months ago outside a high-profile charity gala. Ethan had gotten completely wasted, and I had helped him into the back of his car. The camera angles had been chosen with sinister precision—it looked as though I was throwing myself into his arms, clinging desperately to his waist while he leaned away, seemingly repulsed by my advances. The accompanying gossip article was pure slander: "Sterling Enterprises CEO loyally waited three years for his first love, while his executive assistant actively seduced him in an attempt to claw her way into high society. Now that his true fiancée has returned, will this gold-digging secretary finally pack her bags?" The comment section already had tens of thousands of replies, filled with vile, vicious attacks. "Why hasn't this homewrecker been fired yet? Mr. Sterling is way too nice." "I feel so bad for Nicole Vance. Imagine coming back to the country just to deal with a disgusting parasite like this." A wave of ice washed through my veins. The only people who had access to those photos were the few senior executives and security personnel who had been there that night. There was no way this had leaked online by accident. This was a targeted, premeditated smear campaign. Before I could even process what was happening, the double doors of the executive suite were slammed open. Nicole came running out, her eyes rimmed with red, tears streaming down her flawless cheeks. Ethan followed closely behind her, his face dark enough to summon a storm. "Ethan, I don't understand... I just got back. Why would anyone do this to me?" Nicole sobbed, covering her face with her hands. "The entire internet is laughing at me! They're saying I can't even keep my own man, that I'm being walked all over by an assistant..." Ethan pulled her into his chest with practiced tenderness, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. But when he turned his gaze toward me, his eyes were like frozen daggers. "Elena. In my office. Now." The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind us. Ethan stood behind his sprawling mahogany desk, looking down at me with pure, unadulterated revulsion. "Did you leak those photos to the press?" The accusation was so ridiculous I almost laughed out loud. I was being torn to shreds by thousands of strangers online, branded a whore, and he had the audacity to ask if I leaked them myself? "Mr. Sterling, do you honestly think I have a humiliation kink? Why on earth would I leak photos just to get myself publicly crucified?" I clenched my fists until my nails bit painfully into my palms. "Who else would keep photos like that?" Ethan sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Did you think Nicole's return meant your time was up, so you tried to use public pressure to force my hand? You disgust me, Elena." Nicole sat on the designer leather sofa, dabbing at her eyes with a silk handkerchief as she sniffled. "Elena, I know you stayed by Ethan's side for three years. I know it's hard to let go. But... Ethan and I are legally married. How could you stoop this low just to ruin his reputation?" Legally married. A searing, tearing agony ripped through my chest. Looking at Nicole’s fragile, victimized act, I felt a wave of profound nausea wash over me. "Nicole, you and I both know exactly who went running to the press," I said coldly, fixing her with a hard stare. "Do you want me to pull the IP logs and trace the wire transfers?" "What are you talking about?" Nicole whimpered, shrinking further into Ethan's side. "Ethan, look at her... she's still trying to frame me..." I took a deep breath, pulled my cracked phone from my pocket, opened several verified tabs, and held it out toward him. "Mr. Sterling, see for yourself. The initial smear articles were published at the exact same second across multiple gossip outlets—it's clearly a paid hit piece. The security footage from the garage—" "Enough." Ethan didn't even glance at my screen. With a violent flick of his wrist, he slapped the phone out of my hand. It crashed against the solid wooden corner of the desk, the glass fracturing into a spiderweb of sharp cracks before hitting the floor. He looked at me, his voice devoid of any warmth. "I trust Nicole." Those three words dropped me straight into the depths of hell. No evidence needed. No explanation heard. Simply because it was Nicole, everything she said was gospel. And simply because it was me, I didn't even have the right to defend myself. I stared down at the shattered glass on the floor, and a faint, hollow smile touched my lips. It was a pale, desolate smile, carrying the chilling finality of someone whose soul had just been extinguished. "Fine. You trust her," I whispered, closing my eyes to block out the last light in my world. "Believe whatever you want." I turned on my heel to walk away, but Ethan’s frigid voice cut through the air behind me. "Did I give you permission to leave? You think you can commit an act like this and walk away without facing the consequences?"Elena's POV Ethan’s voice echoed off the walls of the vast office, saturated with the absolute, suffocating authority of an untouchable billionaire. I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around, and held my spine rigid. "And what kind of price are you expecting me to pay, Mr. Sterling?" "Nicole was publicly humiliated because of you. I want a formal, public apology from you right now," Ethan decreed, his index finger tapping rhythmically against the mahogany desk like a judge's gavel. "And after that, you will go down to the plaza outside the main entrance and kneel. You stay on your knees until Nicole decides she has forgiven you." Kneel. Outside the main entrance of Sterling Tower, exposed to the massive crowds of Midtown Manhattan, kneeling like a convicted criminal. I stared at Ethan in utter disbelief, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me. He was the chief executive of a Fortune 500 company. How could he possibly utter something so degrading, so completely stripped of human dignity? "Are you out of your mind, Ethan?" I didn't even bother calling him Mr. Sterling anymore, my voice trembling with raw, unbridled fury. "I told you, I didn't leak those photos. I didn't pay any press outlets. You can verify it yourself! If you just ordered your IT department to trace the source, you would know the truth in five minutes!" "I already told you, Nicole doesn't lie," Ethan cut me off, his dark eyes brooding and merciless, without a single trace of hesitation. Nicole sat on the couch, dabbing at the dry corners of her eyes with her handkerchief, playing the role of the merciful angel while pouring fuel on the fire. "Ethan, please... don't be too harsh. She has worked for you for three years, after all. Making her kneel outside is so humiliating... people will say you mistreat your staff." "She brought this on herself," Ethan said, his icy gaze fixed on me. "You refuse to go down on your own? Security! Escort her down." The heavy double doors were immediately pushed open, and two burly corporate security guards moved into the room, flanking me. I took a step back, staring at Ethan—the man I had poured three years of my life, my soul, and my devotion into loving. Memories flashed through my mind like a chaotic film reel. I remembered three years ago when he was hospitalized for a severe stomach hemorrhage. I had sat beside his bed for forty-eight hours straight, terrified to close my eyes for even a single second. When he finally woke up, he had gripped my hand tightly, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "Elena, you're the only one I have left." I remembered his birthday last year. Nicole hadn't sent him a single text, and Ethan had spent the entire night smashing every piece of furniture in the villa. I had spent an entire month's salary hunting down a rare vintage lighter he had casually mentioned in passing, yet I hadn't even dared to give it to him in person; I slipped it into the company's incoming mail without a sender name. Months later, I found that same lighter rolling around the filthy floor mat of his car, caked in dust. And I remembered the countless intimate moments we had shared over the past three years. In the private suite behind his office, on the plush sofa in the villa... whenever he kissed me, his large, calloused palm would always reach up to cover my eyes. Back then, I was too blind to understand. I thought it was just his overwhelming, possessive nature. Now, the cruel truth laid bare before me. He covered my eyes because he couldn't stand the sight of my face. As long as he couldn't see my eyes, he could pretend the woman beneath him was Nicole Vance. For three entire years, I had been nothing more than a faceless vessel. When heartbreak reaches its absolute peak, the pain simply vanishes, leaving only a vast, hollow numbness. I looked at the guards closing in, straightened my shoulders, and spoke in a voice as dead and still as stagnant water. "Don't touch me. Fine. I'll kneel." I turned and walked out of the executive suite. No screaming, no pleading, no tears. I didn't even spare Ethan a single backward glance. It was December in New York, and the temperature outside hovered near freezing. The sky hung low and slate-gray, threatening snow at any moment. The grand plaza in front of Sterling Tower sat right in the beating heart of the city's busiest financial district. I walked out into the biting wind. A security guard dragged over a coarse, heavy-duty rubber floor mat, tossed it down at my feet, and sneered at me like I was a piece of garbage. "Mr. Sterling's orders, Ms. Vance. Right here." I didn't say a word. I slowly bent my knees, letting them sink onto the rigid, freezing rubber. Thud. I knelt upright, folded my hands neatly over my lower abdomen, and fixed my gaze straight ahead. The arctic wind sliced across my cheeks like razor blades, biting through the thin fabric of my tailored pencil skirt and blouse. Pedestrians began slowing down, pulling out their smartphones to snap photos and record videos. "Isn't that the assistant from Twitter who tried to seduce her boss?" "They actually made her kneel outside? Sterling doesn't mess around." "Good! That's what homewrecking gold-diggers get. Let her freeze!" "I heard she tried to steal company secrets too. Why isn't she in handcuffs?" The vicious whispers washed over me in waves. Colleagues who had smiled and greeted me respectfully just this morning were now gathered behind the glass revolving doors, pointing at me, their faces twisted with smug amusement and schadenfreude. The textured ridges of the rubber mat dug deep into my flesh. Within thirty minutes, my knees were completely numb. The bone-chilling dampness crept up through my joints, turning every shallow breath I took into a cloud of white mist. The minutes bled into hours. One hour. Two hours. Three hours. Dusk settled over the city, and the wind whipped harder through the concrete canyons. I could no longer feel my lower legs at all; there was only a fiery, throbbing agony radiating from my kneecaps. My sheer black stockings had shredded against the coarse rubber, and blood was seeping through the fabric, staining the mat and congealing into dark rust in the freezing air. My face was as white as paper, my lips turning a bruised shade of purple. My torso swayed slightly in the wind, but I refused to let myself collapse. I refused to break. Ethan wanted to use this ritual humiliation to shatter my pride and force me to beg for mercy. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The moment I discovered the truth at the courthouse, my heart had died. What was kneeling out here now was nothing more than a hollow shell. At six o'clock, the evening rush poured out of Sterling Tower. My head was tilted down, but my back remained ramrod straight. The pool of dark blood beneath my knees stood out garishly against the gray rubber. Through the crowd, I saw Ethan emerge. I saw him take an instinctive step toward me, his hand reaching out as if to pull me up from the pavement. "Ethan." A pair of delicate, manicured hands wrapped around his arm. Nicole leaned into him with an air of fragile grace, her voice carrying a faux sense of pity. "Elena has been out here all day. That's punishment enough. Even though she tried to destroy my name, I just can't bear to watch her suffer like this. Please, let her stand up." Hearing her words, Ethan's jaw tightened, and the brief flicker of hesitation in his eyes instantly hardened into cold stone. "Let's go," Ethan said, pulling his gaze away with utter indifference. "If she isn't taught a lesson she'll remember for the rest of her life, she'll never learn her place." Shielding Nicole with his body, he led her toward his waiting Maybach. The heavy luxury sedan pulled away from the curb, its tires splashing a spray of freezing, dirty slush across the hem of my blood-stained skirt. I didn't look up. I listened to the low rumble of the engine fading into the city traffic and closed my eyes. The very last, pathetic ember of hope I had held for that man died with the hum of that departing car.