Your Company, Not My LifeThree days into the silent treatment, Derrick—my fiancé and CEO—greenlit his assistant's pitch for a self-driving road trip.
He expected me to flip, like always. I didn't.
A month later, he came back and saw it—I wasn't the same.
He backed Molly, stole my project, and thought I'd explode. I didn't. I just helped her draft the proposal.
He trashed everything I built, just so she could snag her year-end bonus.
I didn't fight back. Took the blame, took the hit.
Molly was all smug. "See? Told you. You can't go at Yara head-on. Give her the silent treatment—she folds. She's scared of losing you. That's why she's playing nice."
Derrick ate it up. Called her smart.
Then he pulled me aside—offered a raise, a promotion, even a fancy wedding. First time he'd ever brought it up.
But he missed one detail: he'd already signed off on my resignation while he was off playing road trip king.
And I'd already dumped him.
That was it. Clean cut. Nothing left.