Chapter 2 Level 3

The study door closed in front of me, shutting out the low murmurs of the two people inside.

…

The next morning, when I walked out of the bedroom, the house was empty. Used plates and forks were scattered across the dining table, along with half of a fried egg and half a glass of milk, as though they were waiting for me to clean them up like I always did.

I pretended not to see them.

Enduring the pain in my back, I went to pack my own things.

All those blue applications left me with few clothes and daily necessities. Once I had packed everything, I stuffed it all into my suitcase. After that, I called my senior, Wyatt Ingham.

Wyatt had been one of my mother's students. When I decided to quit my job and become the man behind Brooke, he was the only one who tried again and again to talk me out of it.

He arrived quickly. When he saw me leaning against my back and standing beside my suitcase, his brows drew together tightly. "Are you really taking it this far? Back then, you were willing to give Brooke the Project Indigo for free so she could secure Medhelan's biggest partner. Now that you're getting a divorce, do you not regret it?"

I didn't argue. Instead, I showed him the record of my living-expense applications from the past two years. Rows upon rows of blue—it looked like a record of my dignity slowly disappearing.

Wyatt said nothing more. He simply took all my luggage with him. Before leaving, he said, "Alec, as long as you come to your senses, it's never too late."

My legs had started to feel numb as well, so I sat on the sofa for a while to recover.

Then, a message came through on my phone. It was from the company's main group chat. I never left the group after resigning, and everyone had already forgotten I existed.

The latest message announced Noah's new project. Seeing the design draft, my fingers gripped the phone tightly.

I had stayed up for two weeks a few months ago to create that design. At the time, I had wanted to return to the design department. Then I was diagnosed with my back injury, and Brooke told me that I wasn't suited for sitting for long periods and that the timing wasn't right.

Apparently, giving my work to Noah was the right timing.

I sent a text. "When did the design drafts on my computer become yours?"

Brooke replied almost immediately. "This group chat isn't for nonsense."

The next second, the notification "You have been removed from the group chat" popped up.

When I arrived at the company, I could hear people whispering behind me.

"See? He came all the way here to make a scene. How petty of him!"

"He gets to live comfortably at home, yet he's still asking for more. All he does is get jealous."

"Mr. Rothwell earned everything through his own ability. That guy? He struck gold, marrying such a capable wife!"

I ignored the needle-sharp gazes drilling into my back and went straight to Brooke's office. Noah was there too.

A document sat on the desk, and Brooke was signing it. When I glanced at it, I saw that it was a project reward approval, including a 400-thousand-dollar company car allowance.

The project hadn't even started, yet the reward had already been approved—no color, no priority level, signed without the slightest hesitation.

The moment Brooke looked up and saw me, she instinctively turned the document face down. "Perfect timing. You owe Noah an apology," she said coldly.

I stared at her in disbelief. "An apology?"

"Alec, there's a limit to jealousy. What you said in the group chat was humiliating for Noah."

I tugged at the corner of my mouth. "And using someone else's design isn't humiliating? Taking a 400-thousand-dollar car allowance before the project has even started isn't humiliating?"

Noah quietly tugged at her sleeve. "Brooke, forget about the car. Don't argue because of me, or Alec will blame me even more for holding up his applications."

Brooke's expression turned completely cold. "This is still all about the money, huh? It's time to teach you a lesson."

With that, she pressed the intercom and, in front of the entire company, had security escort me out of the building.

The moment I stepped outside, the wind hit me, and a violent, heavy pain shot through my lower back. I hurriedly sat down on a stone bench nearby.

Two messages arrived on my phone in quick succession.

The first was from the hospital. "Mr. Gyllen, your examination results are back. Your spondylolisthesis has progressed to Level 3, and the nerves are already being compressed. You need to be admitted and undergo surgery no later than the day after tomorrow."

The second was from Brooke. "I've suspended your supplementary card for now. It'll be restored when you apologize."