Chapter 1

I was working overtime until late at night before Christmas when I came across a trending Ins post about managing employees.

One comment stood out like a sore thumb.

[My husband's got a brilliant strategy. He's the company CEO, and he specifically targets excellent female employees for underground relationships. Manipulates them into slaving away for the company.]

[Every time my husband fucks her, he kicks her out of bed to work on proposals. That woman hasn't taken a day off in 3 years.]

Some people below defended the female employee, cursing the couple for their cruelty.

But she carelessly added another picture.

In the photo, a tall blond man wearing an apron was cooking in the kitchen.

My breath caught, and my grip on my phone tightened suddenly.

I could never mistake him.

The silhouette in the photo was unmistakably my billionaire boyfriend with whom I'd been in an underground relationship for five years.

I flipped my phone face-down on the desk and took several deep breaths.

When I turned it back over, my fingertips trembling slightly, I zoomed in on the photo bit by bit.

The watch on the man's wrist was the New Year's gift I'd bought him after saving up a whole year's worth of bonuses.

Even the small red mole behind his right ear was identical to Johnson's, down to the last detail.

Someone in the comments asked,

[Hasn't that female employee ever suspected anything?]

The woman replied triumphantly:

[Every time I call, my husband tells her I'm his mom. A few times he even coaxed that stupid woman into calling me "mom" several times.]

The cold light from the screen stung my eyes until they watered.

A few days ago, after Johnson answered a call, he suddenly smiled and said to me,

"Laura, my mom wants to say a few words to you."

I froze for a moment, then quickly took the phone and softly called out "Auntie" a few times.

On the other end of the line, there was no response at all.

Johnson teased me from the side with a laugh,

"My mom's hoping we'll get married soon. She's waiting for you to change how you address her."

Though I found it abrupt, I couldn't resist his coaxing and finally called out softly, "Mom."

As soon as I spoke, uncontrollable laughter burst from the other end of the line. She said "good" three times in a row, then hurriedly hung up.

At the time I felt something was off, but Johnson coaxed away my doubts with a few words.

Now I know that on the other end of that call was his legitimate wife.

My fingertips trembling uncontrollably, I clicked into that woman's Ins profile.

The latest post was from two weeks ago:

[New Year's gift from hubby, just a bit too expensive~]

But on that same day, Johnson had said to me,

"The company's not doing well this year. As my future wife, you should forgo your year-end bonus. And your overtime pay—I'll make it up to you next year."

My hands shook even more violently as I continued scrolling.

[Vacationing in the Maldives with hubby, days without work are absolutely the best!]

During that same period, I'd been pulling all-nighters for three consecutive days trying to close a major deal, eventually drinking myself into gastric bleeding at a business dinner.

After the contract was signed, I even attributed all the credit to Johnson, who hadn't contributed a thing, just to help establish his authority in the company.

The next post:

[Moving to our new home! Hubby specially bought this riverside mansion for me and the baby.]

The photo showed a spacious, bright living room with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a dazzling river view.

Meanwhile, I hadn't even been allocated employee housing.

In this expensive city, I rented a tiny, old apartment in a remote area, with a daily commute of at least two hours each way.

How ridiculous that I'd trusted Johnson so completely.

I'd believed his lies about the "company doing poorly, on the verge of bankruptcy."

I didn't spend his money, didn't ask for raises, worked myself to the bone—all so he could have it easier.

Five years of dedication, and in the end, I'd been making wedding clothes for his happy life with another woman.

Tears fell without warning.

I hastily raised my hand to wipe them away, but accidentally knocked over the now-cold takeout container on my desk.

Leftover food and rice scattered across the floor in a mess.

I finally couldn't hold back anymore and crouched on the ground, sobbing.

Johnson was in his riverside mansion with his wife and child, eating a New Year's Eve dinner of seafood and abalone.

Perhaps after eating, they'd cuddle by the window watching the spectacular fireworks, then nestle on the sofa watching the lively New Year's gala.

But I was working overtime in a pitch-black office building.

Not only was there no overtime pay, the meal I ate was a ten-dollar box lunch.

I don't know how long I cried before my phone rang.

When I answered, Johnson's voice came through the speaker,

"Laura, Happy New Year!"

"I'm still out of town attracting investors. You handle things internally while I handle external affairs—let's work together next year to grow the company bigger and stronger!"