These days, the ones most afraid of "collapsing the house" are not me but them.
Gerald and Daniel have carefully crafted my image as the happiest woman in the world. But in reality, it’s just a ploy to mold themselves into the most affectionate men—a facade they wear to keep their audience hooked.
“Do you think I care?”
Nora’s words were sharp, aimed to provoke me. But my calm response seemed to throw her off.
My lack of reaction chipped away at her smug demeanor and she snapped. “Why do you always pretend so much? If you’re angry, just yell at me already!”
“You obviously want to scold me, don’t you? Don’t you ever get tired of pretending?”
I ignored her rant, focusing on packing up my belongings. There was no point in engaging with someone like her—someone so needlessly petty.
But just as I was about to leave, Gerald walked in.
The moment she saw him, Nora’s entire demeanor shifted. Her eyes welled up with tears and she plastered on an expression of pure vulnerability.
Gerald’s concern was instantaneous. His brows furrowed as he rushed to her side and wrapped a protective arm around her.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
Nora pointed at me, tears streaming down her face. “I just asked Hannah if she could kindly make us some food…”
She sniffled dramatically before continuing, “I even humbled myself, but she scolded me—said I’m useless, that I can’t even cook for myself.”
Her voice quivered as she tried to move toward the kitchen, muttering in a broken tone, “I’ll prove I’m not worthless. I’ll cook something, no matter what.”
I stood there, stunned at the performance. With acting skills like hers, she could easily land leading roles.
Predictably, Gerald pulled her back, his face dark with anger as he turned to me.
“Hannah, are you out of your mind?” he snapped. “What’s the point of berating Nora over something so trivial? Apologize to her right now!”
I took a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm.
Ever since I was a child, I’ve hated unnecessary drama. I’ve never been one to shout or argue; it’s just not in my nature. All my anger, when it comes, is swift and decisive.
I fixed my gaze on Nora, who continued to cry pitifully. Suppressing my frustration, I muttered a cold, indifferent, “Sorry.”
Her tears dried almost instantly and a victorious smirk flickered in her eyes.
As I turned to leave, she leaned in close, her voice barely above a whisper.
“See? This is how things should be. You can’t fight me. Gerald and Daniel only have room in their hearts for me. You don’t deserve them.”
I clenched my fists but refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
***
The next day, I walked into the police station with my immigration documents in hand.
The staff member at the desk glanced at me, a bit hesitant. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once your account is canceled, your identity will no longer exist in this country. You won’t be traceable.”
“I’m sure,” I replied firmly. Without a moment of hesitation, I signed the papers, erasing every official trace of myself from this place.
It was a clean break—a final step toward freedom.
When I returned to the company, I barely had time to process what was happening.
“Bang!”
The sound of two celebratory cannons echoed around me, showering me with confetti. Cheers erupted as employees clapped and whistled.
“Welcome back, our star!”
Daniel stood at the center of the room, leading the applause. His grin was wide and animated, a signal for everyone to cheer even louder.
Before I could react, Gerald gently placed his arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the stage. Photographers flanked us on both sides, snapping away from different angles.
Looking at the entire setup—the decorations, the applause, the cameras—it was obvious this was just another performance. All of it was for show, designed to dazzle their audience.
On stage, Daniel grabbed the microphone, his voice booming with exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s hear it for our greatest contributor—Hannah! Without her, this company wouldn’t be where it is today.”
I forced a polite smile, matching the role they expected me to play.
But then something unexpected happened.
Even after the cameras stopped rolling, Gerald’s smile didn’t falter. He turned to me, his expression unusually soft.
“Hannah,” he said gently, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I know you’ve been unhappy lately. You probably think everything we’ve done for you is just for the cameras—just an act for the audience.”
His words caught me off guard, but I kept my expression neutral.
He continued, “But it’s not just for show. You mean more to us than you realize.”
I stared at him, trying to gauge the sincerity in his eyes.
For a moment, I almost wanted to believe him.
But then, I remembered the past few months—the cold indifference, the constant demands and the relentless manipulation.
And just like that, whatever flicker of hope his words had sparked was snuffed out.
