Kameron was just about to flip through the documents when the screen of her phone lit up on the desk.
Seeing the caller's name, she answered the call hurriedly. "Alright, alright. Everything will be fine. Wait for me in the car."
After ending the call, she shot me a glare. "You had security try to throw Elliot out, and now you're telling me it's my decision whether he gets hired permanently?"
"I—"
She raised her hand and slapped me before I knew it. My cheek burned instantly.
"Can't you even tolerate an intern? Or are you just scared he'll steal what little spotlight you have left?"
I let out a bitter laugh.
Every time Elliot ran to her to complain, she never cared whether I'd followed the rules—she always sided with him.
I had been in the corporate world long enough to know how to handle a guy who seemed naive on the surface.
But the more I dealt with Elliot, the more Kameron resented me.
The weaker he played it, the more righteous he seemed.
I felt a wave of bitterness and helplessness. I had no way to vent, so I said nothing.
Kameron's chest heaved with anger as she grabbed her handbag, ready to storm out.
"Sign it first. HR needs it to process the paperwork," I uttered softly.
Kameron's face was tense with frustration.
She picked up the pen and signed quickly before she rushed out.
I let out a self-mocking laugh.
If she'd even glanced at it, she would've noticed the divorce agreement tucked inside the application.
But whenever it came to Elliot, she seemed to become a different person—she was completely irrational.
Kameron and I had gotten together only because our parents had pushed us into it.
From the start, our relationship lacked the foundation of love.
I'd been chasing her since university, but she never reciprocated.
Later, it was just because we worked in the same field that I had the chance to become her partner.
Three years after founding the company, she said her parents were pressuring her.
She asked if I'd be willing to marry her in haste, just to silence the gossip.
So, we skipped the whole dating stage and went straight to marriage.
I always thought a career-driven woman like her was simply indifferent by nature, as she valued work above all else.
However, I accidentally read her journal. That was when I found out someone had occupied her heart all along—her deceased first love, Xavier Lynch.
I couldn't possibly be jealous of a dead man.
If anything, I only felt more pity for her.
Then, Elliot showed up. His features bore an uncanny resemblance to Xavier's, which was why it unmoored the once composed and decisive Kameron.
Her sharp decision-making fell apart around him.
She had even gotten drunk in front of me once, completely wasted, and she mumbled repeatedly, "Why am I years older than you? Why was I so impulsive to get married back then?"
As I stared at her drunken, tear-streaked face, I felt as though a knife stabbed my heart.
I used to think that even though our marriage wasn't based on love, we would still learn to love each other after marriage.
But Elliot's arrival made these five years feel like a rash mistake.
I let out a bitter laugh, wanting to argue back. Yet, my throat felt choked, as though something was stuck.
That time, I couldn't help but question her. "Do you regret being with me that much? What do these five years mean to you, then?"
She only smiled foolishly, staring off into the distance in a daze, as though she could see the vision she longed for in the void.
"I feel so old now. Standing next to him feels as if we're from two different worlds. I'd never be good enough for him…"
She had no idea that those words completely extinguished the last flicker of hope I had deep down.
It was only then that I realized I had long become discarded, someone she couldn't even be bothered to give closure to after five years.
She never mentioned a word about that drunken night again.
And I never brought it up.
Given how much she had to drink to black out, it was obvious she got drunk on purpose.
Who knew how heavy her sorrow and turmoil ran?
At first, I still convinced myself—pathetically—to just pretend I didn't see anything.
As long as Kameron was still with me and the company ran smoothly, I could drown myself in work and numb the pain.
I could just ignore their vague interactions and the hushed whispers among the employees.
But they kept pushing the boundaries. They flirted openly in the company and even attended high-profile business events hand in hand.
It was as though my title as her husband was nothing.
Even on our fifth wedding anniversary last Monday, she didn't show up when she'd promised to meet me.
But then she had gone missing in action for 48 hours, not answering calls and texts.
Thinking something had happened, I panicked and searched for her everywhere.
As luck would have it, that same day, a major client we'd talked with before said he wanted to meet the CEO of our company.
That only made me even more frustrated with Kameron.
I had already looked into that client's company culture and business style.
Getting to the stage of meeting with an executive basically meant the contract was as good as signed.
Moreover, this deal was crucial to our company. It could fill the hole left by one of her earlier poor decisions.
However, Kameron was totally unreachable.
The client thought we lacked sincerity and turned to work with our competitor instead.
Of course, everything besides life itself was secondary.
Just when I was about to file a missing person report because she'd vanished without a trace, I saw her post on her social feed saying she was safe.
The photo was jarring, and the caption was blinding.
In the photo, she was wearing a pink miniskirt that didn't suit her age, sitting on a carousel she once called childish and holding cotton candy she never liked.
The caption read, "I found the purest of joys in the most joyful places—all because of you!"
When she came back, I hadn't slept in nearly two days.
"Where did you go, and with who?" I questioned, exhausted.
She turned and snapped at me, "I was just with a friend. Why did you call so many times? It was suffocating!"
A friend? She disappeared along with that intern. It was obvious Elliot was the "friend" she mentioned.
At that moment, I felt something inside me collapse. All the hope, attachment, and love I'd held for her were gone.
Everything burned, leaving only cold ash.
I didn't say another word.
Clutching the divorce agreement she had already signed, I felt a rare sense of relief.
I took out my phone and called the CEO of a company—Ryder Zen—who once offered me a lucrative position.
"Mr. Zen, you mentioned you needed a manager for your branch overseas. Is that role still open?"
