Mr. Denver: The Version You Didn't Hear - Chapter #5 - by Yan Stellar

The day started like every other. Dakota greeted me the moment I stepped out of the car, holding out my iPad with the day’s construction site reports already queued up. Her tone was business as usual. Smooth, crisp, efficient. A routine we’d perfected through years of repetition.

We stepped into the elevator, and she began listing my schedule: meetings, site reviews, calls. I only half-listened.

“Set me up a meeting with John Travis tomorrow,” I said as the doors closed. “Tell him we need to talk.” She nodded and scribbled the note without missing a beat.

“What should I get you for lunch, Mr. Denver?” she asked.

“Steak. My usual. Extra mashed potatoes.” I walked ahead, entering my office, already thinking about the report I needed to review before the Travis meeting. But the moment I reached my desk, I saw it. An envelope lying neatly on the surface, addressed in her handwriting.

I paused. My hand hovered over it for a second longer than necessary. Dakota followed me in, her heels clicking softly behind me.

“Anything else, Mr. Denver?” she asked, her voice calm. Too calm. I picked up the envelope and opened it.

Inside was a resignation letter.

I stared at it. My chest tightened, but I didn't let it show. I snapped my gaze to her.

“Sit down,” I ordered, gesturing to the chair in front of me. She sat without protest, but her eyes didn’t meet mine.

“Are you expecting me to let you go tomorrow? Are you crazy?” I asked, tossing the letter across the desk in front of her. “What’s your reason?” No response.

“Dakota! What is your reason? Or else… you can’t resign.”

She lifted her head slowly. “I have to move back to LA. My grandpa is really sick. I want to be on his side.” I leaned back, narrowing my eyes.

“How much time do you need?”

“What do you mean, Mr. Denver?”

“How much time do you need to stay with him? One month? Two weeks? Three? Give me a time frame.”

She hesitated. “I will be moving to LA permanently. I won’t come back to New York.” Permanently. The word rang in my ears like a damn fire alarm.

“You can’t just leave tomorrow! I have to find your replacement and you need to train her—”

“Edna will be my replacement.”

I blinked, stunned. “I’m the boss here!” I slammed my palm against the table, not out of rage, but frustration. She jumped slightly, her posture tight.

“You can quit next month. After you teach—”

“I can’t, Mr. Denver. I have to go back to LA tomorrow.” There was something in her voice. Panic, not typical nerves, not even guilt.

Desperation.

“Did you commit a crime or something?” I asked, trying to find out why is she acting so weird.

She shook her head violently. “No… no… I’m getting married.”

I froze. She was what? She’s going to get married? To whom? When? How? With what time? She practically lived in this office.

“Married?” I echoed, trying to process the word. I narrowed my eyes, grasping at explanations.

“Did you get a cat call?” I asked dryly. “Did you meet this person on Tinder? Did he ask you to go to LA and marry him? Is he rich? Are you a gold digger?” Her jaw dropped in disbelief. I could feel the fury radiating off her like a heatwave.

“Mr. Denver,” she said icily, “I might be a secretary, but I’m not that low.”

Her voice was sharp, cold, and unflinching. The kind of tone I had never heard from her in all our years working together. Not even when I chewed her out in front of the boardroom. Not even when I made her cancel Christmas dinner with her friends.

I said nothing.

“Then why are you suddenly getting married?” I asked.

“It’s a long story. And it’s my privacy, Mr. Denver. I was hoping you’d understand. I don’t have a choice.” I sipped my latte slowly, masking the weight in my chest.

“So your grandpa isn’t really sick? You’re going to LA just to get married?”

She sighed. “My grandpa is arranging a marriage for me. It’s his last wish.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“This is the 21st century. Arranged marriage? You’ve got to be kidding me.” But she wasn’t. She stared back at me, she’s dead serious.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Denver?” she asked, standing up.

“No,” I said quietly, waving her off. She left the room. The door clicked shut behind her. I picked up the resignation letter again, reading the neat lines, the polite tone, the finality of it. Her words didn’t sit right.

Something about it all felt…off. I turned my chair toward the window and read the letter again. And again. Her grandfather was forcing her into marriage. Why? For power? Legacy? Guilt?

None of it added up.

I crushed the letter in my hand and tossed it into the trash.

Let her go, I told myself. Secretaries were replaceable. Hell, I’d gone through a dozen before her.

There are thousands of people out there who would kill for this job. And yet…

I leaned back and glanced toward her office across the glass. She was pacing, phone in hand, visibly agitated. Her voice rose, inaudible but fierce. Then she threw her phone to the ground and collapsed onto the sofa, her head buried in her hands.

What exactly is going on with her? And why the hell did I care this much?

The soft knock on my office door came right on time, two sharp taps. It was the last one I’d hear from her.

I didn’t look up right away. I’d been trying not to look at the door all morning. Instead, I buried myself in contract reviews, site issues, calendar reorganizations, anything to keep my thoughts from circling back to the fact that today, Dakota Lennix was leaving.

When she stepped in, I finally glanced up.

She was holding nothing but a small cardboard box, her last. The others were already gone. Her office, emptied. Her presence, already fading. She looked around the room briefly before sitting down across from me, exactly like she had a thousand times before.

But this time was different. This time, I let the silence hang too long. I folded my arms, staring at her, and let the words fall like bricks.

“I’m disappointed, Dakota. I can’t believe you’re just throwing your responsibilities away like this.” She blinked, but her expression didn’t crack.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Denver. It’s something I can’t control. I have to go back to LA as soon as possible. I don’t want to risk anything.” I didn’t like that answer. I didn’t like any of this. I’d depended on her for five years. Not just for schedules or reports or perfect coffee. For structure. For reliability. For silence when I needed it and resistance when I didn’t want to admit I did.

And now she was walking out of my office, out of my life, like it was a minor errand.

“You know that I depend on you for my work all the time,” I said, my voice cold, even to my own ears. “And I just want to say that we’re not ending this on good terms, Dakota.”

She nodded slightly, eyes steady. “If I could stay, I would. But I can’t. It’s an emergency. I can’t avoid it.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, rubbing the tension from my temple. “When do you go?”

“Tonight, Mr. Denver.”

That fast. She was really doing this.

I opened my drawer and pulled out the envelope I’d prepared an hour ago. I slid it across the desk without a word. She picked it up slowly, uncertain.

“You worked for me for five years. You deserve that.” She opened the envelope, eyes widening slightly when she saw the check.

“Mr. Denver, this is too much. I already received my salary earlier.”

I shook my head. “You said your grandfather is sick. Consider it help.” Her lips parted slightly in surprise. She didn’t expect kindness from me. Most people never did.

“Thank you, Mr. Denver,” she said softly.

I nodded once. “You’re free to go.”

She stood up slowly, murmured her thanks again, and walked out. She left the door open behind her. I sat still for a moment, then I stood up. I don’t know why I followed her. I just needed to see her again.

When I stepped into the hallway, she was still there, standing over her box. She looked startled to see me.

“Why are you still here?”

“Do you need anything?” she asked.

“Coffee,” I muttered before I could stop myself. She moved instantly, setting down her box. But something in me clenched. I grabbed her wrist, gently but firmly.

“Let me do it myself. Just go.” She turned to me slowly, eyes searching mine. Then, before I could prepare for it, she hugged me. It was fast. Clumsy. Her arms wrapped around me like she didn’t want to let go and for a moment, I couldn’t move.

I wasn’t built for this. Not the warmth. Not the goodbye. She pulled away just as quickly, her cheeks flushed, her breath shaky.

“I’m sorry, I just… I love this job. And the idea of quitting still hurts. I’m sorry. And thank you again, Mr. Denver.” She grabbed her box and walked quickly toward the lift, disappearing before I could say anything else.

I stood there, frozen. Not because I didn’t know what to say. But because everything I wanted to say didn’t belong in the world we’d created for each other.

“Good luck” didn’t feel right.

“Come back soon” sounded pathetic.

And “Don’t go” was something I wasn’t allowed to say.

So I watched from my office as she left the building. Her figure slipped into a black car, shielded by a driver I didn’t recognize. I returned to my desk and sat down slowly.

The resignation letter was still in my trash bin, but the echo of her voice—of her hug—lingered in my mind far louder.

She was going to LA. She’s getting married and becoming someone else entirely. And the worst part? I wasn’t sure if it was just the absence of my secretary that bothered me…

…or the fact that it might be the last time I ever saw her again.

I’d been to Vegas too many times to be impressed by it anymore. The city always felt like a masquerade: too many lights, too many masks, too many deals that glittered like gold but burned like ash the second you touched them.

But tonight was about business and the woman who I was supposed to marry. Not entirely about her, but I guess tonight things will get pretty interesting.

Catherine Ashton.

The sounds alone carried weight. The Ashton name had power, legacy, and wealth behind it — and the last time I checked, a reputation for producing highly independent, notoriously stubborn offspring. The fact that she’d vanished for five years under an alias only confirmed what I’d heard.

Still, I was curious. Who wouldn’t be? But I don’t have time to be curious.

My grandfather arranged for us to meet tonight, but I have zero interest in meeting the spoiled princess. I’ve heard some rumours about her, but not a lot. I know I can’t just judge her by the rumours, but I prefer to just skip the arrangement than have to deal with her.

Tonight, I’m sending my best friend Barry to meet her. He’s going to pretend to be me, make her hate me, make her tell her grandfather to stop this nonsense. His job is pretty simple, and I just fucking hope he’s doing this right.

“Mr.Denver, Mr. Park just arrived. Should I bring him in?” Lena, my new secretary, asked. I looked up to her, “Give me 5 minutes, then send him in.” I grabbed my phone from the table and texted Barry.

Kyle: You better do this right, man.

Barry: Buuuut, what if she’s hot?

Kyle: Don’t even think about it, you dickhead. Her grandfather and mine will definitely kill me and you will never get his support again.

Barry: I don’t need his support, you asshole. I need you to give me that fucking Eastern share.

Kyle: I will consider it if you succeed in the mission, dipshit. Don’t mess it up and report back to me.

I put my phone back into my pocket, praying that Barry can make her hate me. He’s good at pushing girls away since he got lots of girls chasing him. Proceeding with my meeting with Mr. Park will bring me more money and happiness than having to deal with The Ashtons.

I don’t hate them, but I know how the Ashtons always have lots of drama inside of their own clan. I don’t want to deal with it, especially when I already have my own set of problems.

A few hours passed by and sealing a two million dollar deal with Mr. Park was easy. We ate dinner together, and he talked about how he wanted to expand to Europe. He wanted me to join his boat along with some of his colleagues. I told him that I wanted him to give me the full picture and proposal for it so the company can consider the deal.

My phone vibrated, indicating that there’s a text message. I excused myself from Mr.Park to check it. As I walked out from the room, my eyes lit up seeing Barry’s first text message.

Barry: I got you, brother.

Kyle: What did you do?

Barry: Before I tell you what I did, you should really consider seeing this girl. You’ll love her, Kyle. She’s different.

Kyle: I don’t need clingy and spoiled girls hanging around. I have deals to sign and businesses to run. So tell me, what did you do?

Barry: Surprisingly, I just talked to her.

Kyle: You’ve got to be kidding me, Barry. I’m going to get a call from the old man telling me she still wants the marriage.

Barry: No. She’s nice and actually different from the other Ashtons I’ve met. I mean Catherine is pretty private, but she’s cool.

Kyle: If you mess this up, you’ll kiss your shares goodbye.

Barry: You’ll see.

The rest of the dinner went great, I’m sure my relationship with Mr. Park will last long. He and I both have the same style and mindset when it comes to business. After wrapping up my meeting, my grandfather called.

“My boy, how did it go with Catherine?” He straight up jumped into the question.

“She’s great, but I don’t think we’re a good match.” I should have called Barry to ask more details about the meeting.

“Really?”

“I know you want me to get along with her and maybe go on dates, but we both have different views and values.” I better not mess this shit up.

“Why don’t you try to go on more dates with her? It’s too early to tell that you are not suited for each other.” I really wanted to protest, but somehow I held back.

“Not now, grandfather. We both are very busy and besides… we’re still young.” Hopefully this old man stops pushing me even further.

“Very well, I’m going to let you two decide the pace.”

“That’s the spirit, old man.” I let out a sigh of relief, but on the other side he was laughing.

“I’m going to talk to you again, my boy.” He didn’t even give me the chance to ask why he was laughing, he ended the call before I could say a word. I texted Barry that he’s so damn lucky because grandpa didn’t say anything.

***

Later I got a text from my grandfather saying that Catherine is going to Toronto in two days for a charity gala.

Old man: Tim will join our charity gala in Toronto, and I want you to join me.

Old man: Catherine will be there, and I want you two to talk again.

Old man: The arrangement is still ongoing, just because you two decided to focus on your own career, it doesn’t mean me and Tim will stop arranging for you both. The two of you will get married whether you like it or not.

Old man: And I want you to be there at the gala, or else… you will regret it.

I stared at the screen for a long time. Here we go again, he and his antics.