Chapter 3

I stared back at Stella, completely unmoved.

Perhaps it was my cold indifference that stung her. Her eyes turned red, and her expression hardened into pure defiance.

"It's just money, right? Fine, I'll pay it. How much is it?"

"Five million."

Stella froze at the amount, disbelief written all over her face. "Five million? You're going to make me shoulder that all by myself?"

Ethan conveniently fluttered his eyes open, his voice weak.

"Alan! Isn't that way too much? If it weren't for Stella's talent and her artwork, you wouldn't have been able to start this company in the first place, let alone make a single dime. She's just a girl. How can you just stand by and make her pay off this debt alone?"

Before he could even finish his sentence, he broke into a violent fit of coughing.

Stella patted his back with concern, glaring at me through bloodshot eyes. "Ethan is right! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have made all that money. Now that the company is in trouble, you don't even want to take an ounce of responsibility!"

The money I made?

Back then, to help sell her paintings, I used every last cent I had to buy a list of art collectors. I trudged through the snow, knocking on doors one by one to pitch her and her work.

When her first painting sold for a high price, she coaxed me into keeping just thirty percent as operating capital while letting her take the other seventy percent to further her studies. To build her reputation, I sought out established master artists and wined and dined with them so she could secure a solid foothold in the art scene.

Later, as her fame grew, I built this company specifically to market her work and brand. When the company began to make a profit, she said she wanted a dream home and a fairytale wedding, so I wired eighty percent of our profits straight into her account.

The love and money I had poured into her far exceeded five million dollars. Yet here she was, holding her lover while pointing her finger at me, cursing me for being heartless just because I refused to take the fall for them.

If past-me was willing to give everything freely, then present-me didn't want to spend another single penny on her.

"Let me tell you something, Alan. If you want to keep making money off my work and still want me to be your wife, you'd better prove you're willing to go through hard times with me. Otherwise, let the client sue us and let the company go bankrupt!"

She bit her lip, threatening me in a fit of rage.

I only wanted to laugh. "Fine. Let it go bankrupt then."

After all, El Tricolor, my hometown, was the last place short of passionate, struggling genius painters. What difference did it make to me if I simply chose someone else to groom and market?

Ethan's eyes rolled back again, and he passed out on the spot. This time, it actually seemed real.

Stella stood there, stunned. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, as I turned and walked out the door.

The next day, after confirming my flight details, I returned to the office once more. Sam pulled me aside the second I stepped through the door.

"Stella managed to cover the compensation payout. The last three hundred thousand gap was actually paid by Ethan. Word is, he even mortgaged his small apartment for it."

"True love indeed," I said with an indifferent smile and wished them all the happiness in the world.

However, the moment I walked into my office, Ethan barged in with several janitors in tow. They made a complete mess of my files, scattering my belongings all over the floor.

Meanwhile, Ethan stood right in front of my desk, barking orders like he owned the place.

"That's it, throw all this useless trash out! Move his desk straight into the storage room! Starting today, this office belongs to me."

"Stop right there!" I let out a cold laugh. "Belongs to you? Since when?"

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his face full of provocation.

"Stella said that anyone who doesn't contribute to the company belongs in the storage room. I solved her crisis for her. Starting today, I'm the Director of Sales."