I stare at the email on my screen, unable to move my fingers. Tomorrow is our company's crucial product launch, and I just learn that the patent for the algorithm I spent three years developing is now filed under Matthew Ashford's new assistant, Sophie Bennett. I storm into Matthew's office to confront him. Sophie sits on his desk with her legs crossed, looking completely innocent. She claims that she filled out the form by mistake. "It's just a clerical error. The patent still belongs to the company. What's the big deal?" Matthew stands up from his chair, positioning himself in front of Sophie. I can't believe what I am hearing. "Matthew, this is my research!" "Emma, you're thirty-five. Why are you picking a fight with a twenty-three-year-old intern?" He frowns. Then, he turns to Sophie. "Starting tomorrow, you're the new CTO. Emma needs… some time off." I'm utterly stunned. A decade of marriage and five years dedicated to building a company together have been shattered by a few casual words from him. Thirty minutes later, Sophie posts a photo on social media of herself sitting on Matthew's lap. They are both clinking champagne glasses. "So lucky to have the best boss ever. I'll make sure to be his loyal kitten." Below that, Matthew leaves a comment—three red heart emojis. I shut my laptop and pick up my phone. "Hello. Is this Mr. David Langley from Novara Group of Sundale Valley? This is Emma Whitmore. I've changed my mind. I'm ready to join you." I pause. "And by the way, about that unreleased algorithm upgrade, I have the complete technical blueprint. Make me an offer." Later, I fly to Tallisport with an eight-figure check in hand, while Matthew goes frantic trying to find me.
View MoreThe new life began quietly.We rented a new apartment near Tallisport Bay. There was a small balcony with a view of Prism Arch. Timothy taught me how to cook local dishes, and I taught him how to make pies.Just when I thought things could finally stay peaceful, a news alert popped up on my phone. "Sundale Valley Startup Star Declares Bankruptcy—CEO Missing."The accompanying photo showed a crowd of angry investors and suppliers protesting outside Matthew's company.I closed the article and went back to chopping vegetables.A few days later, another headline appeared. "Woman Found Dead Under Mysterious Circumstances—Police Launch Investigation."The victim was Sophie. She had been dead for days before anyone found her. The cause of death remained unknown.Timothy looked at me with concern. "Are you okay?""I'm fine. What happens to them doesn't concern me anymore." I meant it.That night, I had a dream. In it, Matthew stood in the rain, apologizing over and over again. Upon
At the cafe, Sophie looked so worn out that I barely recognized her. Heavy makeup couldn't hide the dark circles under her eyes, and even the designer bag couldn't cover up the mess she was in.She sneered. "Are you here to gloat? Congrats. You won.""I've already divorced Matthew," I said calmly.Her head snapped up, and her eyes were wide with disbelief. "What?""The divorce procedure will be finished completely in a month. He's a free man now," I said, stirring my coffee. Sophie stared at me, as if trying to tell whether I was bluffing. "You're really letting him go?"I scoffed. "What's there to hold on to? A self-centered and indifferent man who is solely focused on his own needs... Perhaps only someone like you would see that as a treasure."The jab hit, but she quickly regained her composure. "So why are you here?"I pulled a set of documents from my bag. "Do you feel like making a comeback?"It was a new algorithm I'd sketched on the plane. It was not as perfect as the
I thrust the divorce papers into Matthew's hands. He gazed at them as if they were a horrifying creature.He tore the agreement to shreds. "Impossible. I'd rather die than sign this."The fragments fluttered to the floor like snowflakes.I was prepared. I pulled another copy from my bag. "I printed plenty. You can't tear them all up.""Emma, you belong to me. Always, unless I'm dead." His eyes were frighteningly obsessive.I took out my phone and pulled up the surveillance footage. The video was clear. Just as Matthew rushed over, Timothy was knocked down. His head had hit the ground hard."Intentional assault. In Tallisport, that can get you over three years in prison. So, sign the papers or go to jail. Your choice," I said calmly.Matthew's face turned deathly pale in an instant.The justice system here was notoriously strict, with a conviction rate as high as 99%. And with the surveillance footage as evidence, there was no way he could talk his way out of it.His hands trem
The hospital corridor reeked of disinfectant.The red light above the operating room stayed on, casting a dull, anxious glow. I sat on the chair with my hands clenched tightly in my lap.Timothy's injuries were worse than expected. There were over a dozen stitches on his head, and he had a mild concussion. Hence, he'd need to stay in the hospital for observation."I'm sorry..." I sat beside the hospital bed. Tears kept streaming down my face.Timothy opened his eyes weakly and managed a faint smile. "It's not... your fault, Emma."Looking at the bandages wrapped around his head, I felt something tighten painfully in my chest. At that moment, I realized that I had started to feel something different for this gentleman.It wasn't something fiery or overwhelming, but something steady and quiet. It wasn't about wanting to own him, but a genuine hope for his well-being.It was late when Timothy finally succumbed to a deep sleep. I quietly exited the ward.At the end of the corridor,
The next day, a new tenant moved into the apartment across from mine. Movers were carrying boxes in and out. When I peered out the window, my heart skipped a beat.It was Matthew. He had actually rented the opposite apartment. What a lunatic!Then, the days that followed started to feel… eerie. In the morning, I'd go to the cafe. He'd be in the corner, pretending to read a newspaper.At lunch, I'd stop by the convenience store. He'd be there too, feigning interest in sandwiches. In the evening, after work, he'd be standing outside the apartment building.He wouldn't approach. He wouldn't utter a word. He simply remained there, like a shadow.Over the weekend, I arranged to join my coworker, Timothy White, for a visit to Cliffshore to enjoy the breathtaking views of the sea.He was a senior member of the tech department in his thirties, and he wore black-rimmed glasses. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled warmly.He spoke my native language quite well, and over the past few weeks,
I stared at the phone screen. The familiar words hurt my eyes. For ten years, this number held countless memories—goodnight texts from our first date, daily good morning messages during our newlywed days, and eventually just "busy right now".As I held the tiny SIM card in my palm, its weight felt surprisingly burdensome."Miss, are you still boarding?" the gate agent asked.I cast one final glance before discarding the SIM card into the trash. It fell with a gentle clink, reminiscent of a period that marked the conclusion of a long chapter.In the business class cabin, the flight attendant handed me a blanket and a menu. I asked for a cup of hot tea and leaned back in my seat.Outside the window, the city diminished until it disappeared into the clouds. With a dozen hours stretching before me, I had ample time to sort through my thoughts.Efficiency at Narellin International Airport was as high as ever. Every task, from immigration and baggage claim to currency exchange, opera
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