Chapter 2

"You know how much I hate the media."

My hand shook as I held the phone.

I knew Dean hated interviews, hated the media digging into his past.

The first time he ever accepted an interview was when the media took candid photos of me and widely reported that I wasn't good enough for him.

Dean had even gathered dozens of online media outlets, smiling so gently into the camera.

"My partner is the best partner in the world. Being even a little worthy of her is my luck."

He even punched a reporter who badmouthed me, not caring about his image.

From then on, everyone in New York knew that the one person you couldn't afford to offend was me.

But just three years later, the same reporters were waiting to see me fall.

I couldn't take it anymore.

When I got home, a strapless top and a man's shirt were strewn across the living room, trailing one by one into the master bedroom.

The sounds of a man and woman laughing playfully came from the wedding bed I had personally chosen.

The door wasn't closed.

The girl arched her back in pleasure, looking up, and her eyes met mine.

A wave of brutal emotion instantly tore through my mind.

I leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing.

Dean's voice came from behind her.

"You can go home now."

The girl didn't move, looking at me curiously.

"So, this is your wife? She does look pretty old, no wonder you're not interested."

Dean gave her a faint glance.

"I said, leave now."

The girl didn't dare argue, pouting unhappily.

"Fine, but I'll be waiting patiently for you tonight!"

The girl bounced up, ambiguously stroking Dean's arm.

"You have to promise me you won't touch this old woman! You're all mine."

Dean patted her bottom.

"Alright, you're all mine."

Dean watched her retreating back and chuckled.

"Cute girl, right?"

My fingernails dug deeply into my flesh.

Maybe I couldn't let go.

Or maybe it was because I had no family, no friends; Dean had once been my entire world.

I wanted to hold on to something, anything.

"Dean, if you think we're separating, you're dreaming!"

I caused a huge scene at the company, and as a founding shareholder, I easily made sure Chloe would never be able to hold her head up in this industry again.

But what I didn't expect was that when I returned from my business trip, my assistant had been replaced by the girl I had sponsored for seven years.

I had saved her from human traffickers, paid for her education, and treated her like my own sister.

She had once knelt before me, bumping her head on the ground, swearing to repay me for life.

But when I cornered her in Dean's office, she looked at me defiantly.

"Claire, we just couldn't resist."

I overturned his office desk, screaming at him like a lunatic.

"Why are you doing this to me?!"

Dean just looked at me indifferently.

"So many people want to get into my bed; as long as they're young and beautiful, I'll take them."

I couldn't stand it.

I mobilized all my resources to boycott him, made a scene at that girl's university, used every means to make his life miserable.

Dean, however, just watched me squirm, even with a hint of indulgence.

"Claire, your little tantrums are actually kind of cute."

But then he gave me a taste of his own medicine.

He donated a building to a university abroad and sent that girl out of the country.

Then, he colluded with other shareholders and ousted me from the board.

The day I was kicked out of the company like a dog, surrounded by reporters, Dean was sending that girl off abroad.

Making sure everyone knew his devotion had found a new home.

Bold, passionate photos of the two of them abroad started flooding my phone.

I became the laughingstock of all New York.

In those photos, I also saw a necklace.

Dean had given her the first gift he ever gave me.

The necklace wasn't expensive, only a few hundred dollars.

But that was when we were squeezed into a leaky basement, sharing a single piece of toast because we were so broke.

Life was so hard, yet on my eighteenth birthday, Dean still pushed himself to the limit to get me that birthday gift.

"What everyone else has, my Claire deserves too."

"Claire, trust me. I'll always love you, and I'll make sure you have a good life."

I cried, begging him on the phone to give me back the necklace.

This time, he finally answered.

Through the receiver, he sighed with a hint of exasperation.

"Claire, it's just a few hundred-dollar trinket. My little mistress liked it, so I gave it to her. You wouldn't do it anyway."

He was doing it on purpose.

He knew exactly how to make me hurt.

The last thread in my mind finally snapped.

I plunged a utility knife into my arm.