He Thought She’d Never Leave—Until She Did - Chapter 2

The pain she expected never came. Instead, An He found herself pulled into a familiar embrace. The clean, faint scent of sandalwood surrounded her—cool and steady, grounding her heart.

Her racing pulse slowly calmed.

When she looked up, her gaze locked with his—tense, sharp—and his deep voice came from above her, rich and low, tinged faintly with anger.

“You’re an adult. Can’t you even watch where you’re going?”

It was Song Yu.

An He stayed silent for a few seconds before regaining her senses. Her trembling hands wrapped around his waist as she whispered, “Song Yu.”

They were siblings only in name. In public, she called him “Brother,” but from the first day she entered the Song household, Song Yu had warned her:

His mother had only ever given birth to him—and he didn’t need a sister.

In front of others, she could address him as “Brother,” but in private, she was only allowed to call him by his name.

Once, she forgot that rule. He had gripped her chin, pressed her against the wall, and kissed her hard—so long and deep that she cried before he finally released her, fingers digging into her waist. “Have you learned your lesson?” he’d asked.

She’d trembled and stammered, “Y-yes, I remember.”

After that, no matter if it was in public or in private, she never called him “Brother Song Yu” again.

Especially as their relationship grew closer, the word simply couldn’t leave her lips.

Mrs. Song once asked curiously why she didn’t call him brother anymore.

Song Yu had answered for her.

“I don’t need a sister.”

Mrs. Song knew her son’s temper and didn’t press further.

An He had been quietly grateful for that—grateful that he’d spared her the awkwardness of having to explain.

No matter what others said about him, in her eyes, Song Yu was a good man.

After all, no one had ever cared for her during her period before. Song Yu was the first.

He had told her, “A girl should be cherished by a man.”

She had blurted out, “Then… will you cherish me?”

His gaze had darkened, burning hot enough to make her tremble. “If that’s what you want, then of course I will.”

Having walked in darkness for so long, she had longed for light. In that instant, she hadn’t even hesitated before whispering, “I want that.”

“What do you want?” he had asked.

“I want you.”

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Song Yu’s cool voice cut through her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

An He blinked. “Were you looking for me?”

He frowned. “You didn’t see my message?”

“No.” She unlocked her phone and saw his WeChat from half an hour ago—he’d said he couldn’t be with her tonight for her birthday.

“Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

He clearly didn’t want to elaborate. “Something came up.”

“It’s fine,” she murmured, stepping back from his embrace. “You go ahead.”

She was used to being left behind. It wasn’t the first time.

Song Yu lowered his gaze, watching her. “An He. Look at me.”

She didn’t move, lowering her head even more.

“Look at me.” He gripped her chin and forced her to lift her face.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until her voice broke. “I’m really fine. You should go.”

Without another word, he took out his phone, made a quick call, and said, “I’ll take you home first.”

“You don’t have to. I can get a cab.”

“I don’t repeat myself,” his voice hardened. “Be good.”

She went quiet.

She didn’t dare disobey. When Song Yu got angry, he was terrifying—and that was the last thing she wanted.

“Okay. I’ll listen.”

He smirked faintly, satisfied.

An He got into the car first.

Through the window, she saw Song Yu speaking to the driver of the sedan that had almost hit her earlier. The man was trembling, nearly falling to his knees.

Song Yu’s face was stormy.

And then, the man really did kneel.

A cigarette burned between Song Yu’s fingers as he pressed his foot down on the man’s chest, sending him sprawling to the ground.

An He’s heart constricted. She was terrified of this version of him.

Her phone buzzed.

Mrs. Song: An He, where did you run off to?
An He: Sorry, Mom. I had something to do.
Mrs. Song: Don’t do that again next time.
An He: I won’t.

She stared at the dark screen, wanting to ask—Did you remember it’s my birthday today?

But she didn’t.

Forget it. She hadn’t celebrated her birthday in years, and she’d survived just fine.

Her arm throbbed again. She glanced down and her chest tightened.

She didn’t know how long this kind of life would last.

Rain began to fall again outside. Watching it through the window, she drifted into old memories—of her parents throwing her out into the courtyard as punishment, leaving her to stand crying in the cold.

It had been late autumn. She had knelt the whole night, her knees bruised by morning—yet still had to make breakfast.

Compared to that, her life now was so much better. She told herself she should be grateful.

She patted her face, forcing a smile.

A few minutes later, Song Yu got into the car and said to the driver, “Home.”

She wanted to ask if he’d still celebrate her birthday with her—but the words never came out.

When they arrived, he told her, “Go in first. I’ll come back after I finish something.”

Then he left.

Her chest ached. That night, she slept poorly, her body cold even under the covers.

Curled up tightly, she thought, If only Song Yu were here. If he held me, I wouldn’t feel so cold.

But he didn’t come back.

No one from the Song family did.

The next morning, still feverish, she dragged herself out of bed. The housekeeper had made breakfast, but she had no appetite. She went straight to work.

She worked at Song Group—as Song Yu’s secretary. No one there knew her true identity.

Everyone assumed she was just another fresh graduate.

She preferred it that way. She had promised Song Yu never to reveal that she was the Song family’s adopted daughter.

As usual, she completed her tasks and waited for him.

By noon, he still hadn’t shown up.

Her appetite was gone, so she skipped lunch and kept working.

By late afternoon, Song Yu finally returned. He looked exhausted. She picked up the folder and entered his office.

“President Song.”

He loosened his tie. “Come here.”

She stepped closer.

“Closer.”

She hesitated, then took another step.

He reached out, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her—hot, demanding, consuming.

She couldn’t resist and made a small sound.

His hand brushed her cheek. “You’re sick?”

She nodded faintly.

His expression darkened. He pressed the intercom. “Bring me some fever medicine.”

When he hung up, he held her tighter. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she whispered.

“Next time, call me.”

“Okay.”

Song Yu liked her obedience—her quiet, yielding nature. He brushed his thumb over her lips. “Did you miss me?”

Her lashes fluttered. “Yes.”

“Then kiss me.”

“We’re in the office… someone could walk in—”

“Kiss me.” His tone left no room for argument.

Her eyelashes trembled again and again.

He tilted her chin up. “Be good. Kiss me.”

Like she was under a spell, she looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss barely lasted before a knock came at the door. She quickly pulled away.

“Come in,” he said coolly.

Even with someone present, his hand stayed wrapped around hers behind the desk.

“President Song, here’s the medicine and warm water,” the secretary said.

“Leave it.”

She set them down and glanced at An He. Her face was pale again—just like every time she was with the boss. The secretary sighed inwardly. The president clearly wasn’t pleased with his secretary.

She gave An He a sympathetic look before leaving.

Only when the door closed did An He whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap. “An He, don’t defy me.”

“Open your mouth.”

She obeyed quietly and swallowed the medicine.

When he was wild, he was truly wild; when he was serious, he was just as intense.

Later that evening, he led the company meeting himself.

Watching him work so sharply and confidently, her heart ached with something she couldn’t name. He was so… irresistible.

And no matter how much she tried to hide it, her love for him always showed through.

The meeting lasted an hour. By the time it ended, it was already seven.

Song Yu never mistreated his employees—he tossed his bank card to the department head. “Dinner’s on me. Order whatever you want.”

There was a good Japanese restaurant nearby, and someone suggested it. Everyone agreed.

An He had just stepped into the elevator when her phone buzzed. A WeChat from Song Yu:

[Wait for me in the parking lot.]

She pocketed her phone. “I’m not feeling well. You guys go ahead.”

Seeing her pale face, her coworkers didn’t insist. After a few concerned words, they left.

She went down to B2 to wait.

Her phone rang again—it was Mrs. Song.

“Mom, what is it?”

“When are you coming back?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“I had Aunt Zhou make some ginseng soup for you. Drink it when you get home.”

“Okay.”

Setting aside the blood donations, Mrs. Song truly had been kind to her—gentle, even loving.

“Thank you, Mom.”

“We’re family. No need to thank me.”

The words family pricked at her chest. If Mrs. Song ever found out what kind of relationship she really had with Song Yu, she would go mad.

An He rubbed her arm, afraid to imagine it.

The next second, she was lifted off the ground and thrown into a car.

The driver didn’t get in—he lit a cigarette and walked off instead.

An He looked up at the man approaching her, her lashes trembling harder. “You—”

He gripped her chin and kissed her—fierce and consuming, almost punishing.

It was rough enough to make her whimper. “…It hurts.”

He stopped, eyes narrowing. “You seem pretty close with the planning department manager.”

“Huh? What?” she blinked.

“You’re close with him?” he repeated.

“No… no, we’re not.”

“Then why was he looking at you like that?” The memory made his jaw tighten. He wanted to hit something.

“You must’ve seen wrong,” she said softly. “We’re not close.”

“And you won’t ever be close,” he said coldly, his hand closing around her throat. “Understand?”

When he was like this—ruthless, unrestrained—he terrified her.

“I-I understand.”

He released her, his hand sliding to the side of her neck. “An He, I’ve told you before—you’re mine.”

Whether it was love or not, she could only ever belong to him.

He could cast her aside—
But no one else was allowed to want her.