She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 951

"Doing this on my office couch." He tilted his head slightly. "How long has it been going on?"

Helena’s voice trembled as she answered. "Just the last few days."

"I’m sorry," she stammered, sitting on the sofa across from him, her words spilling out in a panicked rush. "I’m not a pervert. I didn’t mean for this to happen…"

Confessing this felt like swallowing glass. Being Morris Lonsdale’s assistant was the best job she’d ever had, and the man standing before her was someone she admired more than anyone else in the world. She couldn’t lose this position. She couldn't bear to leave his side.

"I have a sex addiction," she forced out, fighting the lingering haze of physical arousal. "That, combined with masochistic tendencies. I've tried seeing a doctor. I’m on medication, but sometimes… I just lose control. I'm sorry."

"So it started longer ago than just a few days?" Morris’s gaze rested on her face.

Helena had no idea how to respond.

Morris didn’t rush her. He stood, walked over to his desk, and pulled a box of tissues from a drawer, setting it gently beside her hand. Then, he pulled up a chair and sat facing her, keeping a polite distance of a few feet between them.

He was dressed in a sharp, charcoal-gray suit, his hair immaculately styled. A silver lapel pin caught the light. He looked like he had just stepped off the cover of a magazine.

In stark contrast, Helena was curled up on the sofa, her clothes rumpled. Something beside her was still vibrating with a faint hum.

Gathering every ounce of her courage, she reached over and switched the toy off. The office fell into a suffocating silence, leaving only the sound of their overlapping breaths.

"Helena," Morris said. His voice was mild, yet it carried an undeniable, grounding weight. It made her spine involuntarily stiffen.

"Earlier, you mentioned that pain brings you comfort. What did you mean by that?" He asked the question earnestly, like a scholar seeking a factual answer.

Helena bit her lip. She wanted to explain, but she didn’t know where to begin.

She stayed silent for a long time. Morris waited patiently. He had important plans that evening, but he had put his phone on silent, perfectly willing to sit there until she was ready to speak.

Eventually, he got his answer.

"It started when I was around sixteen," she murmured. "I was at a boarding school. My family didn't have money, so I had to rely on a scholarship to stay enrolled. The pressure was suffocating. I couldn't sleep. One night, I dragged my nails hard down my arm. It stung badly, but right after the pain hit… all the chaotic, screaming voices in my head suddenly went quiet."