Chapter 2

Sara didn't hesitate for a second before agreeing to process my resignation. "Entry-level resignations don't require the CEO's approval anyway. I'll get on it right away."

When I opened Vivian's Instagram profile, I noticed she'd already updated her profile picture.

It matched Harvey's.

Her caption read, "Got cornered by a creepy blind date. Thank God someone stepped in to play my fake boyfriend and save the day. Guess some skills never fade when you've done the job before!"

I remembered when we first started dating, I used to beg him to use matching profile pictures. He always shut me down with a barrage of excuses—it was too much work, too childish, too unprofessional, and so on.

Who would have guessed that Harvey, a man who always insisted on a stern profile picture, would swap it out today for a cartoon character?

The next morning, Harvey called me, his tone businesslike and rigid. "Come with me to the business dinner later. Be observant, and remember to help handle the drinks."

I found that odd. His alcohol tolerance had always been high. Why would he need me to drink for him?

Before I could ask, Vivian's playful voice came through the phone. "Not bad! After all these years, you still remember I can't drink? I'll reward you with a sip of my bubble tea!"

Listening to their back-and-forth banter, I gave a numb response.

When I arrived at the restaurant, Harvey was already exchanging pleasantries with the client.

As they discussed the project, he kept throwing sharp glances my way, signaling me to take drinks on Vivian's behalf.

Midway through the meal, a client noticed their flirtatious body language and teased, "You two make quite a striking pair. Mr. Moore, do you have a girlfriend?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Harvey glanced at me, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes.

A second later, we spoke in unison. "No."

Even though we gave the exact same answer, he whipped his head around to stare at me, shock written all over his face.

It wasn't until the client stepped out to the restroom that he texted me. "It's just for show. Don't take it to heart."

I let out a bitter smile. There was no point in taking anything to heart anymore.

When it came time to sign the contract, the client cast a suggestive glance at me. His fat hand began probing around my shoulder.

Disgusted, I pulled away, accidentally knocking a glass of red wine right onto Vivian's dress.

Harvey's immediate reaction was to grab a napkin and wipe the stain. He then shot me a sharp, displeased look. "Since when are you so clumsy?"

Vivian waved her hands repeatedly, looking sheepish. "It's fine, Mr. Moore. It's just a dress. It'll come out in the wash."

Harvey paused, his expression clouding over. "Isn't this the dress I bought for your birthday years ago? I had to stand in line forever to get it. Did you forget?"

He completely missed the old pervert groping me, seeing only the stain on Vivian's memory-laden white dress.

After all, he used to say that dealing with unwanted advances on sales calls was just part of the job. So every time a male client tried to lay a hand on me, I relied on the pepper spray in my bag to save myself.

Yet mutual friends had told me about the time he dragged a guy into the police station after smashing a wine bottle over his head because the guy had harassed Vivian.

Back then, he had just taken a sip of wine, shrugged, and claimed he couldn't remember a thing.

Yet years later, he still remembered every detail of that white dress so clearly.

As the chatter around the table picked up again, I kept my head down and scrolled deep into my contacts to pull up a buried number.

"You said there'd always be a spot open for me. Does that offer still stand?"

After I typed out the message, I hit send.