Byron's POV
“I know you're only acting out because you're jealous,” Harriet said softly, trying to sound understanding. “I’ll just chalk it up to you losing your temper and won’t hold it against you.”
Her voice turned gentle, almost coaxing. “But there’s a dinner party tonight, and we really can’t do it without you. Can you just get ready and come with me?”
It was obvious she was trying to play nice, trying to soften the tension, but all I felt was bitter irony.
If it weren’t for that dinner tonight, I doubt she’d even be talking to me.
Then my eyes landed on Dexter, and I froze.
He was wearing my shirt.
Not just any shirt. It was the one Harriet bought me on our third anniversary. A limited-edition dress shirt she’d said was “just for you.” I loved that shirt so much that I barely wore it. It felt too special.
Now it was wrinkled, smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, and worse, I recognized a few cigarette burns along the sleeve.
I remember hanging it out to air a few days ago, then it disappeared. Now I knew why. She’d given it to him.
Something I’d once treasured had been reduced to an afterthought.
It was sad and laughable at the same time.
Seeing me undeterred, Harriet let out a sigh.
“Fine,” she said, sounding a bit impatient. “Come with me to this dinner, and I won’t touch your position at the company. Happy now?”
Still, I stayed silent.
So, she went on, assuming I still cared. “You’re just worried about Dexter stepping over you, right? Okay, I’ll make it fair. You two can have the same title. Satisfied?”
Then she added, like it was some grand concession, “Honestly, if I wasn’t worried about upsetting you, Dexter would’ve been made a manager the moment he walked in.”
I looked up and met her eyes. “If you want to promote him, go ahead. It’s none of my business.”
Her expression darkened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I gave a low laugh. “It means I already handed in my resignation. I don’t work here anymore. You don’t need to explain anything to me.”
“And by the way, we’re done. I’m breaking up with you,” I added before I forgot.
Her eyes widened in shock. “What did you just say?”
Without another word, I took out my phone and blocked her number right in front of her.
“Do I really need to explain what ‘break up’ means?”
She stared at me like I’d slapped her. Her voice was sharp with disbelief.
“You’re seriously dumping me? What happened to you wanting to meet my parents? Now you pull this crap?”
I chuckled and said, sounding amazed, “Oh, now you remember your parents? Funny, I thought you’d forgotten.”
I sneered. “So, how was the booze at the bar last night?”
Yesterday was supposed to be a big day for us. I’d spent months planning, buying gifts, and trying to make a good impression on her family.
I waited for her the whole day, sitting on the couch at home from morning to night. But she never showed up.
Instead, I saw pictures online where Dexter was grinning like a fool, clearly drunk and having the time of his life. And right there, in the middle of it all, was Harriet curled up against him, cozy, smiling, and not caring about the world.
I waited for her to explain, to apologize.
But she never did.
In fact, she acted like it never happened and even had the audacity to ask me to work under him.
She was so heartless.
Even now, after everything, she didn’t show guilt, just anger. She pointed at me furiously and snapped, “I’ve told you, the company hasn’t gone public yet, and it’s still small. You know my parents only care about my younger brother. They wouldn’t take me seriously without real success. And you never understood that! You kept pressuring me to introduce you to them like it was no big deal. I just went for a few drinks to take the edge off. What’s so wrong about that?”
I let out a laugh, half bitter, half amused. “Nothing at all. Do whatever you want. It’s your life. It has nothing to do with me anymore.”
Dexter suddenly stepped forward, switching from smug to self-righteous in a heartbeat.
“You’ve misunderstood everything!” he said firmly. “There’s nothing going on between me and the CEO. We’ve done nothing wrong. A clear conscience fears no shadow!”
Harriet looked at him with eyes full of emotion, then turned to glare at me, her voice icy with resentment.
“Go ahead and make a scene if you want. I’ve said all I needed to say.”
