Chapter 2

Miles didn't return until near midnight.

Chloe was supporting him, half-drunk, as they stumbled through the door.

"Isaac, Mr. Miller drank quite a bit tonight. Take good care of him."

I reached out to take Miles from Chloe, but Miles shoved my hands away.

"Get off me!"

He turned toward Chloe, his drunken eyes soft and flirtatious. "Chloe, stay and have another drink with me..."

Chloe leaned close, whispering against his ear, "Mr. Miller, don't be impatient. I'll drink with you tomorrow."

His breath brushed over Miles's ear, causing Miles to instantly melt, resting his entire weight against Chloe's shoulder.

The ear was one of Miles's most sensitive spots, and Chloe clearly knew how to play him.

The sight before me burned my eyes.

I yanked Miles away.

"Chloe, you can leave now."

Holding Miles close, his signature cologne momentarily clouded my judgment.

I guided him onto the bed. Looking at his flushed, handsome face from the alcohol, I couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him.

Miles instinctively responded at first.

Then his eyes fluttered open. The second he realized it was me, he shoved me away violently.

Sobered up by the shock, his expression darkened. "What do you think you're doing? I'm not feeling well tonight."

With that, he steadied himself and headed straight into the bathroom.

I sat on the edge of the bed in defeat, any warmth completely extinguished by his icy rejection.

Ever since Chloe became his personal assistant, he had refused to be intimate with me.

When Miles emerged from the shower, he had sobered up completely.

Glancing at the dishes on the dining table, his lips curved into a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh, eating this well by yourself? Here I was, worried you hadn't eaten, so I brought you takeout. Guess I was wasting my time."

With that, he glanced at a plastic bag sitting near the entryway.

The crumpled bag sat in the corner like forgotten trash.

I opened it. Inside were some cold, leftover prawns and crab claws.

Yet I was severely allergic to shellfish and had never eaten seafood in my life.

Seeing my furrowed brow, Miles snapped impatiently.

"I went out of my way to bring you food, and that's the face you make?"

I clenched my fists until my nails dug into my palms, my voice dead cold. "I'm allergic to shellfish."

Miles glanced at the food inside the bag, his face tightening uncomfortably. He hurriedly explained, "Chloe loves seafood, so we ordered mostly seafood tonight. Since you already ate, just throw it out if you don't want it."

I remembered a time years ago when I accompanied Miles to a business dinner and accidentally ate something containing shrimp.

My face swelled up instantly, and I went into anaphylactic shock on the spot.

Miles had been furious, chewing out the client right then and there. After that, he strictly ordered everyone around us never to order seafood when I was present.

He used to love me to his core. But the person he cared about now was no longer me.

Miles ignored me, heading into the bedroom and shutting the door, locking me out.

We had survived the seven-year itch, only to stumble and fall at our tenth anniversary.

Staring at the closed door, I fell into deep thought.