Everyone in the company thought Ms. Vance had gone too far.
Kicking out the fiancé who'd built the business with her, replacing him with a fresh college grad.
I picked up the framed photo of me and Serena from the desk.
It was from our first year. The two of us in that rented basement, eating instant noodles, grinning at the camera.
She'd been laughing so sincerely in that picture, telling me we were going to make something of ourselves.
I slid the photo out of the frame and fed it into the shredder beside the desk.
One “click,” and it was confetti.
Roger flinched at how fast I'd done it.
That was when Serena walked in.
She saw the box I was packing and her brows drew together hard.
“Stuart, what are you doing?”
“You told me to clear out the office.” I didn't even look up.
Her face tightened. She dropped her voice:
“I told you to move to one of the open desks! The Grandview client specifically asked for Roger as point of contact. He needs a proper office!”
“Do you really have to humiliate me right now?”
“Be reasonable. Once the deal closes, I'll split the commission with you fifty-fifty. Isn't that enough?”
She was barely holding her temper, speaking in that tone she always used when she thought she was doing someone a favor.
I placed the last photo frame into the cardboard box and looked up.
“Ms. Vance, the handover checklist is signed.”
“I don't want a single cent of the commission.”
I picked up the box, stepped around her, and walked out.
“Stuart!” she called after me, a thread of panic slipping into her voice that she probably didn't even hear herself. “Don't burn this bridge!”
I didn't slow down.
I was never the one burning bridges.
My last day at the company, Serena threw a celebration dinner at the five-star hotel across from the office to mark the Grandview Corp deal closing.
All I actually needed to do was stop by Finance in the afternoon, collect my final paycheck, and leave.
But her secretary called and said Ms. Vance required my attendance at the dinner.
“Ms. Vance says you were the one who cultivated this account. If you don't show, she'll take it as a personal insult.”
I looked at the suitcase I'd already packed, then changed into a plain button-down and slacks and headed to the hotel.
The banquet hall was loud with clinking glasses and small talk.
Roger was gliding between clients in an expensive dark-patterned suit, wine glass in hand.
Serena stood right beside him, shielding him from drink-for-drink toasts with fierce, almost possessive protectiveness, her eyes soft with indulgence.
“Stu, why'd you show up dressed like that?” Roger materialized at my side, eyes widening with fake surprise at my white shirt and casual pants.
“I actually thought you weren't coming.”
He held a glass of red wine and deliberately clinked it against mine.
“Director Wang from Grandview praised my proposal. Serena said she's buying me a car as a reward.”
He gave his wrist a little shake. The gold watch struck the crystal rim of his glass with a bright, deliberate clink.
I lifted my gaze and let it settle on his face. Cold.
“Good for you.”
My complete indifference was what finally set him off.
As he passed me, his elbow swung out and caught my glass. The full pour of red wine splashed straight down my chest.
My white shirt went dark red in an instant.
Gasps rippled through the room. Every eye in the hall snapped toward us.
“Oh, sorry, Stu. Didn't see you standing there.”
His voice was light, almost bored, but a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Serena strode over and pulled Roger behind her in one motion.
She took one look at the mess I was wearing, her brow creased, and her voice came out sharp with blame.
“Stuart, I already let it slide that you showed up to a formal dinner in casual clothes. Now you have to cause a scene and make everyone uncomfortable?”
She didn't even ask what happened. Just assumed I was making a scene, picking a fight with her precious assistant.
I stood up, pulled a few napkins from the dispenser, and calmly dabbed at the wine stain on my shirt.
“He threw his drink on me,” I said. Just stating the fact.
“Roger didn't do it on purpose. Do you really have to stand there acting like the victim?”
Serena's voice dripped with impatience.
“It's a cheap shirt. I'll buy you ten to replace it.”
“Roger's the hero of tonight. You're a man. Can't you be a little bigger about this?”
She shielded Roger like he was made of glass, terrified I might so much as touch a hair on his head.
I looked at the woman in front of me.
Through her expensive tailored blazer, I could almost see the girl from five years ago, the one who'd pulled off her jacket in the pouring rain and draped it over my shoulders.
That girl had told me once that even if the whole world misunderstood me, she would stand by my side.
That girl was long dead.
Killed off somewhere between the networking events and her own swelling arrogance.
The last hidden flicker of hope in my chest turned to ash.
“Forget the replacement.” I tossed the wine-soaked napkins onto the table.
“You're right, Serena. It's just a cheap shirt.”
“Same as this relationship. Once something's been dirtied, it stays dirty.”
I turned around and grabbed my jacket.
“Stuart! Where do you think you're going now?” Serena's voice cut sharply from behind me.
She was so used to me backing down that she thought I was just turning away to force her to chase me.
“Home.”
“If you walk out that door, don't ever come back!” She hurled a wine glass.
“Fine.” I didn't look back. I walked straight out of the banquet hall.
I pulled out my phone and called an Uber to the train station.
This time, I meant it.
