Page 1 of The Secretary Volume II

PROLOGUE

Now

If you’re reading this, I already know what happens to you.I know how it starts.I know how it ends.And I know you won’t listen.

But first, let me say, I was intrigued from the jump.You had this way of saying the most absurd things—things that made no sense without context, but perfect sense if you were paying close enough attention, which I was.

The first sentence I ever heard you say:I’m allergic to latex and authority.

The second:Yeah, lots of passion, but lots of pain.

And you hadn’t even been employed on our floor for more than two hours at that point.At least, I don’t think.That was the thing.You said things that made mewantto remember—particularly at a time when I’d long stopped.I suppose that’s why I’m writing this.You could say I owe you the favor.

“You’re going to like this one,”he’d said about you, and as usual, he was right.He always is.He’s the charming manipulator, the careful strategist, the man who smiles warmly as he calculates exactly how to break you.He proves the horrifying truth: power is quiet, cruelty is sophisticated, and villainy often wears a suit, shakes your hand, and offers exactly what you think you want.

However, I might be getting ahead of myself.

The hallway outside my door is too quiet—too still.It stretches on, as if waiting for something to happen, but nothing moves.Footsteps?I hear them—maybe.Or maybe I don’t.They could be real.Or part of the game.Part of the experiment.

But you won’t know that.You won’t understand the rules.You’ll think you’re still in control.

That’s the first thing they take: control.

They’ll give you a choice soon.

You’ll get the note.The one that feels like a game.“Do you have what it takes to be in my world?Check yes or no.”

It’ll seem like a test.A challenge.It’ll seem intriguing.

But it’s not.It’s a trap.And once you answer in the affirmative, which you will, there’s no turning back.Sorry, no refunds.

They’ll twist you.Break you.Make you believe you’re doing it to get ahead, to survive in this new cut-throat, dog-eat-dog world you’ve found yourself in.

But it’s all a lie.

You won’t survive.Not really.You’ll lose everything.Your name.Your face.Everything that made you,you.And you’ll wonder if it was worth it.

By then, it won’t matter.

The door opens.The cold hits first—sharp, sudden, like a blade slashing through the air.Then, the sound.His breath.Steady.Measured.Controlled.Familiar in the worst way.

My heart jackhammers in my chest.I tell myself it’s not fear, that it’s just anticipation.Just the knowing of what comes next.But that’s a lie.Of course I’m scared.Fear is not sneaky in its approach.It wraps around my skull, coils down my spine, digging its claws in deep.

One of them steps inside.His smile is empty, fake, a mask he’s worn too long.I hate that he pretends.

“Time for your session,” he says.But he’s not talking to me.Not really.

He’s talking to the version of me they’ve chipped away at, the one they’ve been carving into something smaller, something more convenient.

I get up.But it’s harder now.My legs don’t feel like mine anymore.The floor beneath my feet is too smooth, too slippery.I fight to stay upright, but I feel myself slipping.I don’t want to go with them.But I have no choice.

If I don’t...they’ll make me forget again.

The door slams behind me.The hallway is longer than I remember.It wasn’t always this long.Or maybe I wasn’t always this tired.

It stretches ahead, too narrow, too still, a twisted maze I’ve forgotten how to navigate.The air is stale.Like it’s been sitting too long.

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make it through this.

---