She plopped down into her office chair. Juan, his face dark with anger, grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Susan, don’t bring your family affairs to work. Public matters are public, private ones are private. I hope you understand your place. I’m the president of Parkston Group. This isn’t the place for you to sit.”
Susan’s eyes reddened as she smiled faintly. So this was what Juan meant by separating public and private matters?
Leaving her brewed coffee at the door, Susan went straight to the HR department to submit a printed copy of her resignation letter.
The HR representative looked stunned. “Susan, are you really resigning? Does Mr. Parkston know?”
Susan replied calmly, “He’ll find out soon.”
Susan took the expedited resignation paperwork from HR and headed to Juan for his signature.
Before she could knock, Juan had already emerged, carrying Ashley in his arms and kicked the office door open.
“Call 120! Ashley is having an allergic reaction!” he shouted impatiently, his face grim.
Susan lost her balance, stumbled back two steps and struck her lower back against the corner of the table. The sharp pain caused a cold sweat to break out on her forehead, but Juan didn’t notice.
He simply commanded her, “Take off your shoes. Give Ashley your flats.”
Juan gently removed Ashley’s sky-high heels, being careful not to hurt her. Then he casually tossed the heels at Susan. The sharp heel grazed Susan’s arm. Her face turned pale and her heart throbbed.
“Juan, I can’t wear high heels.”
Susan had once broken her ankle while saving Juan. When he suddenly fainted, she rushed to protect the back of his head from hitting the floor. In the process, her own right foot had fractured. After she woke up, Juan had bought her an entire wall of flat shoes. His eyes had been solemn.
“Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”
From then on, she wore only flats.
She had worked hard to protect herself. But now, Juan was asking her to give them away—to Ashley.
A flicker of irony crossed her eyes and Susan shook her head slightly. “You know, my ankle…”
Juan interrupted, “That happened years ago. It still hasn’t healed?”
His brow furrowed, his voice edged with impatience. “Then don’t wear any shoes yet.”
Susan froze, disbelief clouding her expression.
Juan, clearly out of patience, waved his hand. “Hurry! Ashley’s condition can’t wait.”
His bodyguards shoved Susan onto the table and forcefully removed her flats. Barefoot on the cold floor, under everyone’s strange and curious glances, Susan felt as though a boulder was pressing down on her chest, suffocating her.
She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there. When she finally stood, staggering slightly, no one was around. No one had come to help her.
Clutching her resignation letter tightly, she hobbled off to find a pair of shoes.
The sun blazed overhead. The asphalt scorched her bare feet and blisters began to form. She was just about to pay for a pair when a familiar Lincoln pulled up beside her.
The door opened and Juan’s bodyguard tossed her inside.
“Sorry, ma’am. Mr. Parkston asked us to take you to the hospital.”
In the ward, Ashley’s face was swollen and flushed red, her eyes bloodshot. Juan sat on the sofa, his expression stony as he slowly rotated the Swiss watch on his wrist.
“Susan, apologize to Ashley.”
Susan frowned in confusion. “Why?”
“Juan, don’t be like this.” Ashley let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I took Susan’s position and I also stole her husband. I was wrong. I deserve to die. She put almonds in my coffee. I deserve it.”
Suddenly, she looked up—and with a loud slap, she hit herself across the face.
“Susan, I’m just a disgusting mistress. You want me dead. I understand. But I just can’t control my heart…” She gave a bitter smile and gently shook her head. “Don’t worry. From today on, I won’t see Mr. Parkston again.”
With that, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. Her soft, pale feet stepped into the flat shoes that had once belonged to Susan.
Juan’s strong hands gently held her feet.
“Lie down peacefully.” His voice was gentle, full of tenderness.
But when he turned to Susan, only cold indifference remained. “Susan, I never intended to give you the supervisor position. With your capabilities, you’re truly unfit.”
Susan looked up in shock, her face draining of color.
“You’re certainly good at taking care of me and you’re suited to being a good wife and mother, but do you really think you can manage an entire secretarial office? So Ashley wasn’t wrong in this matter.”
“As for what happened between her and me…” Juan scoffed, eyes brimming with mockery. “She’s already apologized to you. Shouldn’t you apologize for nearly killing her?”
Susan’s body turned cold. “I didn’t do it.”
Ashley, looking wounded, teetered slightly. “Susan, the coffee cup showed a high concentration of almonds. Besides you, my best friend, who else would know about my allergy?”
“I told you, I didn’t do it.” Susan closed her eyes, emphasizing each word.
“That’s enough.” Juan had had it. He seized Ashley’s wrist and slapped Susan across the face.
Susan’s ears rang from the blow.
Juan said coldly, “Ashley, you cared about sisterhood, but she nearly killed you.”
“I’m here now, so don’t be afraid. I’ll get justice for you.”
“Hit me!”
Ashley struck Susan again. Once, twice, three times… Susan was slapped herself ten times.
Her face became swollen and red, blood trickled from the corners of her mouth and the pain numbed both her body and her heart. Those ten slaps didn’t just teach her a cruel lesson—they handed justice to Ashley. And they shattered the last remnants of love Susan held for Juan.
