Alissa POV:
The fluorescent lights of the office cafeteria felt particularly harsh that morning. My last morning.
I walked in, coffee in hand, and saw them immediately. Ethan and Bella.
They were at their usual table, laughing, sharing a pastry. His hand was on her knee under the table. I saw the slight tremor in her leg, the subtle tilt of her head.
He was wearing it. A new watch. Sleek, silver.
And Bella had a matching bracelet. Adorned with a tiny, sparkling charm.
They were matching.
My throat tightened. I remembered the old watch, the one I' d given him years ago. The one with the inscription on the back.
Always yours.
It was gone. Replaced. Just like me.
Mark, my colleague, approached me, his brow furrowed. "Alissa, you ready for the Kestrel debrief?"
I nodded, forcing a smile. "As I'll ever be."
He lowered his voice. "Look, I know this is rough. Everyone knows the Kestrel deal was your baby. And now Bella's getting all the credit."
"It is what it is, Mark." My voice was flat.
He squeezed my arm. "Just know, we all see it. And it's not right."
My gaze drifted to the official project board. "Kestrel Project Lead: Bella Russo."
My name, once proudly displayed, was gone. Erased.
The numbers were still my numbers. The success, my success. But the ownership, the recognition, was hers.
A wave of impotent rage washed over me. My grip tightened on my pen.
The tip snapped, leaving an angry black mark on the pristine white paper.
Later that morning, after the debrief, a message popped up on my screen.
Ethan Morgan requests your presence in his office.
My heart pounded. This was it. The final confrontation.
I walked down the long, glass-walled corridor, each step echoing in the sudden silence of my mind.
His office door was ajar. I pushed it open.
He was sitting behind his enormous mahogany desk, staring out the window. His back was to me.
The air was thick with unspoken words. The tension was palpable.
I stood there for a long moment, waiting. He didn't turn around.
Finally, a sharp tap of his finger on the desk. Impatient. Commanding.
"Ethan," I said, my voice steady, "you wanted to see me?"
Questions? I had a thousand. Why did you do this? How could you? Did any of it mean anything to you?
But they were pointless questions. The answers wouldn't change anything. They wouldn't erase the pain.
"No," I said, my voice hollow. "I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving."
He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Leaving? Your contract isn't up for another six months."
"My resignation is effective immediately," I said, my gaze unwavering. "My lawyer has already sent over the paperwork."
I had done it quietly, efficiently. While he was away with Bella.
My apartment was mostly cleared. My belongings shipped to a storage unit.
"What about your things?" he asked, a hint of something resembling concern in his voice.
"They're gone. Everything I care about is gone."
He frowned. "Don't be dramatic, Alissa. You can't just walk away from your responsibilities."
He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands. "You're acting like a child. Is this about money? Because if it is, we can talk. I can double your next commission."
He was offering me my own money. Money he' d stolen from me just last night.
I remembered the countless hours I' d poured into this company. The sacrifices I' d made, believing in our shared future.
He had always dismissed my contributions, subtly undermining my success. "You're good, Alissa, but let's be honest, you wouldn't have this platform without Morgan Innovations."
His words had chipped away at my self-worth, making me doubt my own abilities.
Now, he was trying to buy me off.
"I don't want your money, Ethan." My voice was a whisper, but firm. "I want my life back."
He scoffed. "Fine. Be stubborn. But don't come crying to me when you realize you've made a mistake."
He stood up, signaling the end of our conversation. His dismissal was absolute.
