Braxton Payne had always valued Maxine Mason’s quick, sharp situational judgment, and the two were driving back to his estate together.

After a night of mind-blowing passion, Maxine had passed out cold from Braxton’s relentless energy. It was only 4 a.m. when a sharp, sudden cramp in her abdomen jolted her awake, gasping. Clutching her stomach, she sat up, stepping off the bed slow and careful. A quick shower later, she pulled on her clothes, glanced back at the rumpled sheets and the man sleeping dead to the world, grabbed her bag, and slipped out as quiet as a mouse.

The clinic was way more packed than she’d expected for that hour of the morning. Sophie rushed over to her, concern carved deep into her face, and shoved a test result into her hands. "What the hell were you thinking? You’re pregnant, and you’re still being this reckless? Braxton doesn’t know yet, but you can’t keep putting your own health at risk like this!"

Maxine’s eyes scanned the report, and she breathed a sigh of relief—turns out the pain was just from mild uterine pressure, nothing serious. Her gaze snagged on the doctor’s note: avoid strenuous physical activity for one month.

One month. Braxton could barely go a single day without it.

She handed the result back to Sophie, and flashed her worried friend a playful, reassuring grin. "I’ll be careful. Besides, you might as well start getting ready for your new title: Auntie."

Sophie’s heart ached for her best friend. She took the paper reluctantly, muttering, "He would’ve made me Auntie eventually anyway."

Maxine linked arms with her as they walked out of the clinic. A sharp, cold gust of wind hit them, making Maxine shiver and sniffle.

Sophie couldn’t stand seeing her freezing, and draped her own coat over Maxine’s shoulders. "With all the money Braxton has, you’d think he’d splurge on some decent warm clothes for you. Half the time you look like you’re barely wearing anything."

"There’s still a while before work starts. Why don’t you crash at my place for a nap?"

Maxine slid into Sophie’s car, listening to her friend’s worried fretting. "How are you planning to keep this hidden anyway? Braxton isn’t an idiot. If you keep dodging him, it’s only a matter of time before he figures out something’s up, and who knows what’ll happen to the baby then?"

She was right—it was a problem that couldn’t wait much longer. Maxine leaned her head against the car window, watching the night bleed into dawn outside the glass. "I’ll figure something out," she said lightly. She’d already dragged Sophie into enough of this mess; she didn’t want to burden her any more than she already had.

---

Back at work, Maxine carried on like nothing had changed. When she walked into his office, Braxton looked up from his desk, but didn’t ask a single question about her sudden disappearance that morning, like he didn’t care one way or another.

"Braxton, I’m gonna stay at Sophie’s place for the next month," she mentioned offhand, sorting through the day’s schedule on his desk.

Braxton, who’d been fully absorbed in his work, paused. His frown deepened, sharp with displeasure. "Are you fucking serious? I didn’t even nag you about bailing this morning, and already you’re making demands?"

He usually never questioned her choices, so Maxine froze for a second, caught off guard. She pulled a printed diagnosis out of her bag and slid it across the desk toward him. "Mild pneumonia. Highly contagious. Doctor ordered rest."

The subtext was crystal clear: no roughhousing.

"I can’t risk getting you sick, Braxton. It’s better if I stay somewhere else for a little while."

Her reasoning made total sense—Braxton couldn’t exactly force a sick person to stay with him. Even so, the way he flipped through his contract pages, sharp and loud with frustration, caught Maxine off guard. Before this, when she’d gotten sick, he’d only grumbled a little. Never this silent, simmering irritation.

While she was still turning that over in her head, her phone rang. The caller ID said *Mom*. Her heart skipped a beat, and she stepped out of the office without even excusing herself to Braxton.

"Mom?" she answered, slow and cautious, half expecting to hear the same angry, demanding voice she was used to.

Thankfully, it was her mom, sounding relieved and almost cheerful. "Don’t worry about me, baby. I found a job right near your office, it’s really nice working conditions."

Tears pricked Maxine’s eyes. "You should take more time off to rest, Mom. I still have enough money to cover you."

Her mom laughed softly. "Staying at a hotel’s so expensive, no need to waste all that cash. I’ll text you the address later."

"Okay. Take care of yourself, okay?"

After hanging up the short call, Maxine smiled a genuine smile for the first time in weeks. She walked back to the desk just as her mom’s text popped through with the address. It looked weirdly familiar.

Maxine pulled it up in a quick search. It was a small subsidiary under Payne Enterprises, with amazing benefits, and they specifically prioritized hiring older workers. It didn’t take a genius to figure out Braxton was the one who’d pulled the strings.

No wonder he’d been in such a foul mood this morning. Maxine glanced over at Braxton, who was still flipping through contracts, his face set in that unreadable stony mask.

She thought it over for a second, then walked over slow and graceful, leaned against the edge of his desk, and tilted his chin up gently with her finger. Braxton’s eyes locked on hers, and she pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his cheek. He blinked, caught completely off guard, then tugged her closer with one strong arm wrapped around her waist.

Maxine pressed a single finger to his lips, her smile turning coy. "No contact, remember?"

That only cranked up the tension, the anticipation thrumming between them. She let her hand drift slow down his chest, her smile growing more teasing, more tempting. "But I’ve got other ways to make it up to you."

Braxton’s office quickly filled with thick, heady tension. Maxine thought appeasing him like this would buy her enough time to figure things out without him doing anything drastic. But she quickly realized she’d severely underestimated how stubborn Braxton could be.

When he cornered her in the break room after work, Maxine pushed him away like before, her voice a mix of firm and fed up. "Braxton, did you already forget what I told you?"

He paused, then leaned in even closer, a flicker of annoyance glinting in his dark eyes. "I called the doctor. It’s not that serious."

He’d gone that far? Maxine’s eyes widened for a split second, but she dodged his embrace smoothly, a light smile still on her face. "Braxton, you should think about your health too, right?"

He caught her before she could slip away, gripping her waist tight to hold her pressed against him, his eyes narrowing. "Maxine. Are you hiding something from me?"

He wasn’t stupid. One or two little incidents could be written off as a bad mood, but this was clearly something else.

When she heard his suspicion, a jolt of panic shot through Maxine—but she pulled her composure back fast. "No, I just still feel like crap. You don’t want your best assistant overworking herself and collapsing, do you?"

Braxton stared at her in silence, scanning every inch of her face for any telltale give away. Unfortunately for him, Maxine had gotten really good at hiding what she really felt. She met his gaze with a calm, steady smile, totally unfazed.

Time dragged by as Maxine held her breath, waiting for him to push further. Suddenly, Braxton let go of her, stepped back, and straightened his suit jacket, his voice dropping to icy cold. "Make sure all the documents for tomorrow’s meeting are ready."

Maxine Mason stared blankly after Braxton Payne as he walked away, the lounge door swinging shut behind him. The click of his leather soles echoed down the hall, fading slowly into silence. He was furious.

The realization hit her like a jolt, and Maxine shot to her feet, grabbed her coat, and hurried for the door. But when her hand hit the frame, she froze, uncertainty locking her in place. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted? Braxton keeping his distance from her?

Square her shoulders, she turned back, straightened the meeting schedule, and laid it neatly on Braxton’s desk before heading straight for Fiona’s apartment. For three days straight, every conversation between them had been strictly business. Even when their eyes accidentally locked, they both looked away on instinct, just like a couple in the middle of a fight.

Maxine knew better than anyone what this was—Braxton’s little power play. He was waiting for her to cave, to make the first move. The weight of it crushed her. In just one week, she’d dropped eleven pounds, her face sharpening noticeably. Fiona, sick with worry, insisted she take a break to clear her head.

It just so happened to be the first weekend in forever Braxton hadn’t dumped work on her, so Maxine agreed. They took advantage of the gorgeous clear weather to go hiking on the nearby trails. Fiona badgered her into dozens of selfies, and when Maxine spotted her rare bright smile in the shots, she picked a couple to post to Instagram.

They’d barely made it back down the mountain when Braxton’s name popped up on Maxine’s phone. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Why was he calling her on a day off? Was something wrong?

Fiona peeked at the caller ID and huffed, "Don’t pick up. Work calls on weekends are never good news—they just want to bleed you dry."

"But what if it’s an office emergency…" Maxine reasoned, and answered the call anyway, under Fiona’s disapproving glare.

Braxton’s voice rolled deep and addictive through the line. "Come to my place when you’re done."

The request caught her completely off guard. "Is something wrong?"

"If you’re well enough to go hiking with Fiona, I assume you’re feeling better. So why would there be a problem?" he said, like it was the most normal request in the world.

Maxine got it immediately. This wasn’t about work. He was just impatient to yank control back now that she was on her feet again. Refusing wasn’t on the table, but she’d been told to rest and take it easy while she recovered. She thought for a second, then answered soft and steady, "Alright. But I’ve been craving a drink. Will Mr. Payne indulge me?"

"When have I ever treated a drink like a luxury around me?" he chuckled low.

After hanging up, Fiona frowned with worry. "You’re actually going? Your health isn’t something to mess around with."

She wasn’t wrong—even today’s hike had required multiple stops to keep Maxine from overdoing it.

Maxine squeezed her friend’s shoulder, smiling to reassure her. "Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing."

---

Night fell, and San Francisco’s skyline blazed to life as Maxine arrived right on time at Braxton’s hilltop villa. Inside, the coffee table was stacked full of liquor bottles. Braxton, loose in a plush cashmere bathrobe, was reclined in an armchair, his dark eyes glassy with alcohol as he watched her.

Spotting the half-empty whiskey bottle already on the table, Maxine felt a tiny flicker of relief. When Braxton had a little drink in him, he was always easier to handle. Getting him to drink a little more wouldn’t take much work.

Maxine settled smoothly onto his lap, lifting a glass with a slow, easy smile, "Couldn’t wait for me, huh, Mr. Payne?"

She took a small sip, then leaned in to press the rim to his lips, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Braxton drank it down.

One bottle after another emptied out after that. By the fourth, his usual sharp, focused gaze was foggy, though his arms still curled tight around her waist on instinct.

Maxine had only ever sipped at the edge of her drinks, so her head was still perfectly clear. She cracked open a new bottle and fed him sips straight from the neck.

Three more bottles later, Braxton’s arms went limp. He slumped heavy against her, out cold. She called his name a few times, but got nothing back.

Relieved, she carefully slid out from under him, grabbed a couple of blankets from the linen closet, draped one over him, and wrapped the other around herself. She’d planned to stay just long enough to make sure he was really out, then leave.

Somehow, she ended up asleep on the couch.

Her breathing was soft and slow, the blanket slipping down her shoulders as she shifted in her sleep. A well-defined, calloused hand caught it before it could fall all the way, tucking it back tight around her.

The man who was supposed to be dead drunk stared down at her with dark, searching eyes, and murmured low, "What the hell are you playing at?"

Since the second bottle, Braxton had known something was off. But he’d played along anyway, curious what her game was.

When he “passed out” and heard her moving around, he’d cracked one eye open, half-expecting her to pull something crazy—she knew nearly all of his deepest business secrets, after all.

But all she’d done was cover him up and curl up on the couch. Warmth wrapped around his chest, and then the apartment went quiet.

When Braxton woke, he found Maxine asleep right there on his couch, her face soft and peaceful. Had she gone through all this trouble just to get him drunk so she could nap?

As he studied her serene, almost childlike face, something in his chest softened. He gently lifted her into his arms, carried her to his king-sized bed, and she murmured something soft in her sleep.

He froze, thinking he’d woken her, but she just snuggled deeper into his chest, still dead to the world.

Hmm. Something was different about Maxine. Before, even the slightest sound would have her jolting awake, ready to jump and do whatever he needed. Now she hadn’t even stirred when he carried her across the house. Had she been that exhausted lately? Or was she still recovering, worn thin from being sick?

A hundred different thoughts spun through his head, but in the end he just pulled her closer against him, flipped off the lights, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Maxine woke up with a jolt. When she spotted Braxton’s sleeping profile next to her, she slipped out of bed as quiet as a mouse. The mess of empty bottles caught her eye, and a twist of guilt pricked her stomach.

Braxton wouldn’t figure out she’d gotten him drunk on purpose, would he?

After freshening up and saying goodbye to his housekeeper, she hurried out, eager to avoid any awkward questions from Braxton on her way into the office.

By the time she got to the bullpen, the whispers had already started.

"Did you hear? Everyone’s saying Maxine is actually Payne’s mistress."

"So it’s true? I always wondered how she landed that position with no real experience. Tsk."

"Well, duh. Secretaries always end up sleeping with the boss…"

The gossip got meaner by the second.

Maxine walked in with a hard face, her cold gaze sweeping over the huddle of gossiping coworkers. "This is an office, not a coffee shop for idle chatter. Mr. Payne and I have no such relationship, and if I hear any more of these rumors, I’ll be sending this straight to HR to handle."

The coworkers exchanged awkward, guilty glances and went dead silent.

Just then, Braxton walked through the door, catching the last line of her denial. His jaw tightened, and his face went dark.

A quick exchange later, the two of them walked into the room, and every gossiping colleague went rigid, holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Maxine Mason stayed perfectly composed, offering a polite, "Good morning, Mr. Payne."

Braxton Payne’s gaze drifted over Maxine, his voice ice-cold when he answered: "Get that project plan on my desk ASAP."

With that detached, untouchable air of authority, he brushed right past her, his stiff posture screaming don’t get close.

A sharp little twinge pinched Maxine’s chest, but her face stayed blank. "Yes, sir."

Out of old habit, she moved to follow him up to the executive floor, but just as she reached the elevator, the doors slid shut—cutting off her view of that unforgiving scowl of his. Stunned for half a second, she turned to head for the staff elevator instead.

The same coworkers who’d been gossiping about her two minutes earlier crowded in after her. They crowded closer on purpose, staring her down the whole time.

Maxine backed up until she was trapped in the corner, her suit rumpled, the documents in her hand crinkled at the edges.

The executive suite was on a private restricted floor. When the elevator doors opened, Maxine stared up the long, intimidating staircase, drew a deep breath, and started climbing. Her stilettos felt like fancy little torture devices, every step a struggle.

High heels were a luxury she couldn’t afford anymore. Climbing these stairs every day would be brutal enough, even more so with the baby growing inside her.

By the time she reached the suite, a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her face.

Braxton’s eyes lingered on her rosy, flushed lips for a beat. His Adam’s apple bobbed, then he glanced away and instructed her coolly, "I reviewed today’s schedule. Have Erin handle it. If you’ve got nothing pressing, you can work out of the general assistant’s office downstairs."

Surprise flickered in Maxine’s eyes, and she glanced automatically at her old desk by his door. She didn’t push for answers, just complied. "Alright."

She grabbed a box from the supply closet and packed her things in silence. It was so stuffed that when she tried to lift it, it felt clumsy, unbalanced, way too heavy.

Braxton noticed, and spoke up quietly, "Those are company files. No need to strain yourself. You can just grab what you need when you need it."

"…Okay."

Wasn’t this just his way of making her life miserable?

Maxine had no ground to refuse, so she only took the essentials and carried the light load back down the stairs.

The assistant’s office was one floor below the executive suite, so working there meant she wouldn’t have to climb those stairs every time she turned around. That was a small plus.

Maxine talked herself down, pushed the anxiety aside, and pulled open the office door. Five different secretaries all looked up at once, their gazes curious and twisted with so many other emotions.

"Miss Mason? What brings you down here?"

"I’m working here now," Maxine said simply, before claiming a empty corner desk to settle into.

The other women exchanged quick glances. They could see the hesitation and giddy excitement written all over each other’s faces. A door of opportunity had just swung open for them.

Everyone in the assistant pool had always envied Maxine—she was Braxton Payne’s personal assistant, the closest spot to the king of the company. None of them expected an opening to pop up this soon.

Before long, rumors that Maxine had been demoted spread like wildfire through the office. Word was she’d ticked Braxton off bad, and he was just getting ready to push her out the door for good.

People who’d previously sucked up to her started keeping their distance, hanging back to see how it all played out. Everyone knew Maxine’s new spot was only temporary, just waiting for the final ax to fall.

Maxine didn’t let it faze her. She kept working like she always had, unfazed. The only real change was more walking and climbing. After she twisted her ankle once, she dumped the heels entirely and switched to plain flats for work.

Her first day in flats, Braxton caught her.

He glanced down at her shoes, squinting, and snapped, "So you’re not even bothering to keep up appearances anymore?"

Maxine couldn’t tell him about the pregnancy, so she stuck to her excuse: "I twisted my ankle. It still isn’t healed."

"Liar," Braxton’s face darkened. She’d run around in four-inch heels on a sprained ankle once, powered through a late-night screaming match with him without a single complaint of discomfort.

Truth was, she just didn’t care enough to pretend anymore.

Maxine said nothing.

Braxton’s voice turned ice-cold. "I kept your father, George Mason, out of prison for five whole months. And now you’re just gonna ditch me, is that it?"

After Braxton had bailed her mother out of that gambling den, Maxine never dug deeper into what was going on. She’d assumed her father had finally learned his lesson and stayed out of trouble. She had no idea Braxton had already locked him up.

Maxine’s whole body shook, but she didn’t let it show on her face.

If Braxton hated her this much, he’d probably prefer she stayed far out of his way anyway.

And besides… she wasn’t ready to give up. Not yet.

"Thank you, Mr. Payne. I don’t know how to repay you," she answered, her voice flat and steady, no give at all.

Braxton’s gaze got even colder, and he taunted, "Can’t repay? Then don’t bother. Forcing it is just pathetic."

What was he even playing at?

Braxton pressed the intercom button, connected straight to HR, and ordered, "Hire a new personal assistant. Demote Maxine one level."

"Got it," HR agreed hesitantly, confused out of their mind, but didn’t dare question him.

After he hung up, Braxton turned back to Maxine: "Bring everything except company files down to your new desk. Once the new assistant starts, you’ll do the full handover."

Maxine pressed her lips into a tight line, caught completely off guard by this sudden move. There hadn’t been any warning signs at all.

Or… maybe Braxton had been planning this for a long time.

She ducked her head lower, still polite, still grateful on the surface: "Thank you, Mr. Payne. I don’t have anything else left to pack. Just let me know when the new assistant gets here."

She turned to leave and pulled the door shut soft behind her—still as considerate as she’d always been.

"Thank you, Mr. Payne?" The words echoed in Braxton’s head, and he let out a bitter laugh. Was she this desperate to get away from him? Fine. He’d just have to see how far she’d really go.

The news of Maxine’s demotion spread through the company faster than wildfire. Every employee she ran into asked her about it.

People who’d sucked up to her before were torn. The other assistants, meanwhile, walked around with a mix of smug satisfaction and quiet rivalry, all watching her every move.

Maxine’s demeanor never shifted. She acted like nothing had changed at all.

In her five years working at Payne Enterprises, this was the first time she’d actually used her lunch card to eat in the company cafeteria.

She’d just sat down when someone walked past and spilled an entire bowl of hot soup right down the front of her shirt. The person fumbled out a hasty apology: "I’m so sorry, it slipped out of my hand! I’ll pay for dry cleaning, I swear."

Maxine looked up, her face completely blank. "Erin, that’s a little childish, don’t you think?"

Since her demotion, she’d put up with all kinds of petty nonsense: elevators that closed right in front of her, meetings she was never notified about that got her marked tardy, all the usual garbage she’d just swallowed quietly. But now they were stooping to direct personal attacks.

Unfazed, Maxine calmly wiped herself down with paper napkins, returned her ruined tray, and bought a new meal to go.

She was glad she’d always had the habit of keeping a spare set of clothes in her desk drawer.

When she walked back to the assistant’s office, she spotted her desk from across the room: it was soaked through with spilled coffee, all her documents ruined. Coffee dripped all over the once-clean carpet, leaving a disgusting brown stain.

There was no one around to claim it, and fighting to pull the security footage just wasn’t worth the energy. She cleaned up the mess herself, called facilities to come take care of the carpet, and headed for the bathroom to change. That plan fell apart when she pulled out her spare clothes—they were stained all over with ink, lipstick, and foundation. Completely unwearable.

She couldn’t stay in this soaked soup-stained outfit and keep working.

After weighing her options and fighting through an internal battle, Maxine made her choice. She pressed the intercom button and asked, "Mr. Payne, are you free right now?"