Page 129 of Stuck with my Boss Daddies

But they never did.

And the more he pulled away, the more I unraveled.

I started making mistakes. Forgot orders. Spilled drinks. Showed up late after nights spent crying in my tiny apartment, wondering what I had done wrong.

Then I found out the truth.

It hadn’t been stress.

It hadn’t been the restaurant.

It hadn’t even been me.

Owain Bond was married.

And not just married—happily, publicly, perfectly married, if the glossy magazine spreads of him and his elegant, beautiful wife were anything to go by.

I had stumbled upon the truth by accident.

A headline flashed across my screen while I sat on the subway, bleary-eyed and exhausted after another closing shift.

Owain Bond and Socialite Wife Celebrate Ten Years of Marriage in Lavish Gala.

Ten years.

Longer than I had even known him. I had stared at the screen, the world tilting sideways, my stomach lurching.

It didn’t make sense.

He had never hidden me exactly. Staff had known, or at least suspected, though no one had dared to say it outright.

He had taken me to expensive dinners, tucked me against his side as we slipped into town cars, kissed me breathless in his office like he owned me.

And the whole time, I had just been some dirty little secret.

I had confronted him that night. I’d stormed into his office, my hands shaking, the headline still burning in my mind.

“Tell me it’s not true.” My voice had been hoarse.

He had barely looked up from his desk. “What, exactly?”

I'd shoved my phone toward him, the article open, my breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. His eyes flicked to the screen, then back to me.

Unbothered. Unimpressed.

“I was going to tell you.”

My stomach had turned. “When?”

He had sighed, leaning back in his chair, his expression the picture of exasperation. Like I was an inconvenience.

“You’re being dramatic, Sadie. It was never serious.”

Not serious.

My knees had gone weak.

I had loved him.

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