Leonard glanced at Rowena, his tone dripping with mock exasperation.
"My girlfriend knows I can't stand scallions, so she picks them out for me every single time."
"I told her I can't handle the taste, and she just stopped eating them altogether. The CEO of Ashworth Group—making her kitchen staff leave out scallions even at business dinners!"
A year ago, Rowena had never been a picky eater. Then, out of nowhere, she announced she didn't eat scallions anymore.
I'd assumed her stomach couldn't handle the irritation. Every time I cooked, I'd been so careful to leave them out.
Turns out, it was all for Leonard.
"Now everyone in her circle calls her whipped!" Leonard beamed as he said it, radiating smug satisfaction.
I stood frozen in place, cold seeping through every inch of me.
He didn't notice. He just kept eating, nodding between bites.
"This is really good, by the way. Leave me your number. I'll book you directly next time."
Rowena's expression cooled instantly, her voice dropping low. "You're hired help. A cook. Don't overstep."
The warning in her tone cut through me, and a wave of bitter resentment surged up from somewhere deep.
I was the one who'd been with her first. So why was I being treated like the other man?
My chest burned. I opened my mouth, the impulse to confront her nearly spilling over.
But before I could speak, she stepped in front of Leonard, her eyes locking onto mine with a glare so vicious it didn't belong to anyone I recognized.
The words died in my throat.
Leonard didn't seem to notice anything off about her. "Rowena, what's wrong?"
The sight of them together stabbed behind my eyes like needles.
I mumbled something about having somewhere to be and practically fled, stumbling out the door.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Rowena.
Be home tonight. We need to talk.
What was left to talk about?
When we'd first gotten together, I'd even teased her once: "Your last name's Ashworth, and you just happen to work at the Ashworth Group? Don't tell me you're secretly the CEO."
I had only myself to blame for being so dense. I never followed business news, never questioned anything she told me. Whatever came out of her mouth, I believed.
A quick search told me everything. Rowena was the sole heir to the Ashworth family. She'd taken the reins at an age when most people were still figuring out their careers.
And I'd met her five years ago, waiting tables at a coffee shop. In all that time, she'd never breathed a word of it.
Looking back, the signs had been everywhere.
She'd told me all her clothes were bargain finds from thrift stores. But the fabric, the stitching, the way they draped—they were finer than anything on a designer rack.
She'd complain about her boss running her ragged at work. But her hands were soft. Not a single callus.
I'd scrimped and saved for nearly six months to buy her a necklace for her birthday. Nothing extravagant—just a modest designer piece. Something I was proud of.
She never wore it. Not once.
When I asked about it, she'd pouted and nuzzled against me. "It's from my baby. I love it too much to wear it."
Now I understood. It wasn't that she loved it too much.
She was embarrassed by it. A necklace like that didn't belong on a CEO.
The tears came before I could stop them. I walked home half-blind, wiping my face with the back of my hand the entire way.
Late that night, the front door clicked open. Rowena stepped inside and found me sitting there, eyes swollen and red.
Something flickered across her face—guilt, maybe, or pity. She crossed the room and threw her arms around me, then let out a long sigh.
"Ulysses, don't blame me."
"Leonard's still in college. He's young, full of energy, spontaneous."
"And you... all you ever think about anymore is work and money. You can't even take me out for our anniversary without using a discount coupon."
The words hit me like a bolt of lightning.
Six months ago, Rowena had told me she'd gotten a promotion and a raise. I'd gritted my teeth and splurged on two discount coupons for a high-end steakhouse to celebrate.
I'd been so excited when I told her. Grinning ear to ear, practically bouncing.
Her face had gone cold in an instant.
She'd slammed the door on her way out that night. The celebration was over before it started.
