Chapter 6

I had just finished the paperwork and stepped out of the HR department when I ran right into Steven in the hallway.

He was wearing a designer suit that day, with an Hermes briefcase in hand. Everything about him from head to toe practically screamed "the CEO's husband".

When he saw me, a flicker of unease passed through his eyes. But then, he quickly plastered on a smile and said, "Walter, I heard you're getting married. Congratulations!"

He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, a probing tone sneaking into it.

"Walter, are you and Arlene for real? She's not…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but his expression clearly said, "She's not someone you hired to put on an act, is she?"

Instead of answering, I pulled out my phone from my bag and opened my chat history with Arlene right in front of him.

The most recent message was from her that morning.

"The tuxedo's been altered. I'll go with you for the fitting tomorrow. And for breakfast, I got you that bagel you love from the place on the west side."

I scrolled up to show Steven the photos Arlene had taken of the wedding venue, a handwritten wedding itinerary, and even multiple sample versions of the wedding favors she'd sent for me to choose from.

Every photo was taken with care.

Steven's expression changed. He let out a dry laugh and said, "Wow, Arlene sure is thoughtful."

I put my phone away and looked at him. Suddenly, I asked, "So, did you and Diana get the divorce sorted?"

His smile froze on the spot.

"W-We're going today," he stammered. "Diana told me first thing this morning that our marriage was just a game, so it didn't count."

I nodded and said nothing more.

As I walked out the company doors, I glanced back at the office building where I'd spent eight years of my life.

The light in Diana's office on the 18th floor was on.

She stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at me below. But it was too far for me to make out her expression.

Still, I gave a casual wave, as if I were saying goodbye to any other ex-boss, then turned around and left.

The following week, I was so swamped that I barely had a moment to catch my breath.

With three major events converging at the same time—settling into a new job, handing over the Townsend Group deal, and planning a wedding—I was getting only five hours of sleep a night.

Arlene was even busier than I was.

With her company's project at a pivotal juncture, she was juggling seven or eight meetings a day. Yet, whenever something concerned me, she'd handle it personally.

She insisted on seeing floral samples for the venue and tasting the wedding favors herself. Terrified that we might miss someone important, she even went over the guest list with me three times.

Mom saw all of this and wouldn't stop going on about it at home.

"Arlene makes Diana look bad—plain and simple."

My father, Frank Knox, didn't say much. But one evening over dinner, he suddenly remarked, "I've always known Arlene was the one for you. She's steady, reliable, and responsible."

He paused and looked at me. "In short, she's 100 times better than Diana."

I knew that Dad was trying to comfort me.

Back then, Mom and Dad didn't approve of me being with Diana. They said she was too calculating and were afraid I'd end up heartbroken.

But I didn't listen to them. Looking back now, my parents really had her figured out.

On Wednesday afternoon, I reported to the new company.

As a marketing director, I got a private office, two assistants, and triple the salary I'd had at Diana's company.

After signing the contract, I took David out to dinner to thank him.

Halfway through the meal, my phone suddenly started buzzing like mad.

It was Richard calling.

"Walter, where are you?" he asked, his voice urgent and furious. "I just got off the plane. What the hell did that bastard Diana do?"