Chapter 3

In the emergency stairwell, I leaned against the cold wall, my body shaking. I stubbornly kept my head up to force the tears back down.

Just then, Simone showed up.

The sound of our breathing filled the tiny space.

She walked up to me in silence, looking at my hands, where my fingers were clenched so tightly that the knuckles had gone white. Using a gentle force, she slowly pried my fingers open.

Her hands were warm—so warm that I couldn't understand what was happening.

She raised one hand and gently wiped away the tear that had escaped from the corner of my eye.

"Don't cry," she said softly. "I know you're upset."

My heart jolted.

"Jerry has always been blunt to a fault. He might not say the nicest things sometimes, but he means no harm. Stop trying to compete with him, okay?"

My breathing grew strained. I closed my eyes, but the tears fell anyway.

…

The next day, I submitted my resignation letter to the HR department. The manager was a little taken aback, but he processed it without uttering a single word.

The moment I walked out of the office building, I let out a heavy exhale. The sunlight was blinding, but it allowed me to feel the warmth of a new start.

The three years were up. I got my freedom back at last.

My phone buzzed with a message from Simone. "It's the company's anniversary gala tonight. You need to be there."

Just like always, she was giving me a command. I was going to delete her message, but I decided against it. I figured it would be the final act to make a clean break from the past.

Once I arrived at the venue, I found a quiet corner and stood there, detached from the rest of the lively extravagance.

Jerry was the center of attention, looking dazzlingly handsome in the haute couture suit Simone bought specifically for him.

Now that he had taken over the Mooncradle project, with Simone's eager support and heavy-handed promotion, he became the rising star of the industry.

Everyone complimented him on being both handsome and talented, saying that Simone had found herself an extremely capable right-hand man.

Meanwhile, I was nothing more than the stepping stone that enabled his success.

Suddenly, the company's promotional video playing on the screen in the middle of the hall was replaced by a series of explicit photos of Simone and me in bed together.

The crowd broke into an uproar, and their voices flooded my ears.

"What the hell? Isn't that Isaac Griffin?"

"I can't believe that a man as principled as Jerry would have someone so shameless for a brother!"

My blood ran cold. Instinctively, I glanced at Jerry, who was standing among the crowd, his smile smug.

Amid the chaos, Simone barreled through the crowd and marched up to me, scowling.

"You've got some nerve, Isaac!" she snarled viciously at me. "How dare you stoop to such dirty tricks just to latch onto me! You disgust me!"

I looked at her and abruptly laughed.

"It wasn't me," I said calmly.

"How dare you try to deny it now!" Simone screamed at me.

"It was Jerry's doing." I looked her in the eye. "Do you believe me?"

Jerry came over, his expression mocking. "I would never stoop to such underhanded tactics, Isaac, but I never expected you to do so either."

As always, he pretended to be all righteous and superior.

Simone also scoffed at the notion. "Why would I believe you? Who else besides you could've gotten those photos?"

"I didn't do it!"

But Simone raised her hand and slapped me. The force made me stumble backward, and I crashed right into the champagne tower behind me.

The sound of shattering glass mixed with the screams that filled the hall. It was complete chaos. The glass shards flew everywhere, cutting up my arms and face. The blood immediately oozed out, but I didn't feel any pain from the wounds.

The pain in my heart drowned out all other sensations.

Simone didn't even look at me. She grabbed Jerry and assured him, "Don't worry, Jerry. I'll keep you safe."

Holding him protectively, she walked out of the hall without looking back, leaving me alone in the mess.

I couldn't remember how I managed to leave the hall. All I remembered was the butler, Albert Smith, rushing over to take me to the hospital.

My wounds were cleaned and stitched up. The doctor told me I was fortunate that none of the glass shards had stabbed me in the eyes.

However, now that new scars had been added to the old one on my face, it would be even harder for me to recover.

I lay in the hospital bed, awake the entire night.