Chapter 1

For seven years, I stood by Clara Vance, building a startup from scratch until our company finally rang the opening bell on Wall Street.

Yet on the very day we went public, she made an Instagram post hard-launching her relationship with her first love—and blocked me from seeing it.

Instagram exploded instantly.

*“Didn't Ethan quit his seven-figure salary back then just to help you build this company? Now that you're public, you're throwing him out like trash?”*

Clara replied impatiently:

*“I didn't have a choice back then.”*

*“Besides, being around him for seven years only made me realize one thing: when it comes to marriage, you have to choose the one you truly love.”*

A close friend commented, trying to talk sense into her.

*“Ethan basically runs all company operations by himself. What will you do if he quits over this?”*

Clara hesitated for a brief second before typing back with icy certainty.

*“He’s just an executive assistant. I could pull anyone off the street to do his job. The company won't crumble without him!”*

What she didn't know was that on the other side of the screen, I was staring at her account—which was still logged into my laptop—watching the words appear in real time.

I drained my iced Americano in one gulp.

Then, I booked a one-way flight back to my hometown for three days later.

My resignation letter was halfway out of the printer when the office door swung open.

Clara walked in, her three-inch heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She tossed a thick folder onto my desk and commanded, "Ethan, redo these financial reports."

She didn't even spare me a glance. Her eyes were glued to her phone, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips.

I recognized that smile.

Back in college, whenever she got a text from Julian Hayes, she had that exact same look.

It had been seven years. I had almost forgotten she was capable of such softness.

Too bad it was never meant for me.

"Ms. Vance," I said evenly. "The accounting department already signed off on these yesterday."

She finally looked up, her brow furrowing. "I said redo it, so redo it. Do you have a problem with that?"

I lowered my gaze, my fingertips unconsciously brushing against the body of my fountain pen.

It was a birthday gift from her during our first year working together. Nothing designer or fancy, but she had picked it out herself.

"Alright. I'll get it to you tomorrow."

"I need it before you leave today." She turned to walk out, then paused as if remembering something. "Oh, by the way, order a box of liquor-filled chocolates. Make sure they're imported from Belgium. I'm gifting them to someone."

My heart sank. "A client?"

"What's the matter, Ethan? Jealous?" She arched an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Relax. It's for a client. If you want some, order a box for yourself and expense it to the company."

"No need. I cut out sugar." I kept my head down, noting the request in my memo app.

Satisfied, she turned and left, the sharp clicking of her heels fading down the hallway.

Outside the window, the confetti from yesterday's IPO celebration had yet to be fully swept away.

Only yesterday, we were clinking champagne glasses together, celebrating the biggest victory of our seven-year journey.

I thought it was the dawn of our new life together.

Little did I know, it was just the end of my one-sided delusion.

At four in the afternoon, I emailed the revised reports to Clara’s inbox.

At five-thirty, I packed my bag and left the office on the dot.

Passing her suite, I glanced through the half-open door. She was touching up her lipstick in the mirror, while a vase of white roses—the ones I had ordered—sat on her desk.

Vibrant and radiant, just like the flush on her face.

My assistant, Kevin, leaned over and whispered, "Ethan, is Ms. Vance... seeing someone?"

The corner of my mouth twitched. "Just focus on your work."

Inside the elevator, I caught sight of the thirty-year-old man reflected in the polished metal doors.

The spark that once burned in my eyes was gone, replaced by a dull, bone-deep exhaustion.

When Clara first started the company, I had poured every cent of my savings into her vision.

At our lowest point, we didn't even have a hundred bucks between us.

Crammed inside a tiny, hundred-square-foot sublet eating instant noodles, she had looked straight into my eyes and said with complete conviction:

"Ethan, we're going to make it. Once we hit it big, I'll pay you way more than that million-dollar salary you gave up."

I believed her.

Not because I cared about the money, but because I believed that one day, she would finally see the man who had been standing behind her all along.

Seven years passed. The company was now worth billions. And she no longer needed me.

My phone rang. It was Clara.

"Ethan, cancel tomorrow morning's meeting. I have some personal matters to attend to."

Knowing the reason, I still asked, "Do you need me to arrange a car?"

"No, Julian is picking me up."

*Julian.* She said his name so effortlessly.

"Understood. Anything else you need me to prep?"

"No, you..." She hesitated for a moment. "Just get some rest early."

Before the call disconnected, Julian's voice drifted through the speaker: "Clara, who's calling you this late?"

"Just my executive assistant. Handing off some work."

*Executive assistant.*

Two words that drew an impenetrable line between us.