I gripped the edge of my desk, knuckles turning white, and fixed a cold stare on Valerie.
"Don't think I don't know you tampered with my computer last night. Once we pull the surveillance footage, we'll see who the disgusting person really is."
Her smirk faltered.
Moments later, Bonnie Barber sent me the security clip she'd quietly retrieved. It captured Valerie clearly—sneaking over to delete my files.
Confronted with the evidence, Valerie didn't even try to deny it. She just lashed out. "Bitch! You're just a damn nepotism hire!"
Something inside me snapped.
I didn't think. My hand moved on its own.
*Smack!*
The sound of my palm connecting with her face echoed through the silent office.
Five years of suppressed grievances erupted. Tears streamed down my face, though my expression remained stone cold.
"I went through three rounds of interviews for this job," I said, my voice trembling with rage. "Every result, every performance metric—I fought for it. I woke up early. I stayed late."
I stepped closer to her.
"From start to finish, my conscience is clear. What right do you have to treat me like this?"
The last sentence wasn't just for Valerie. I was screaming it at Matthew James.
But he would never hear it.
The adrenaline crashed. Low blood sugar flared, and the room spun. I swayed, nearly collapsing, but Bonnie caught me just in time.
That night, the company fired Valerie on the spot and demanded $20,000 in damages for the work delay.
I dragged my exhausted body back to the villa, packed the very last of my belongings, and walked out the door.
I left the key on the table.
At the airport, while waiting to board, I opened my blocked list and pulled Matthew out. My feed instantly refreshed. Several new travel videos popped up on his Moments.
He had accompanied Julia Fox across three different countries.
Although the videos only showed him, the background audio told the real story. A gentle female voice was always there, speaking to him softly.
He called her Julia. She called him Matthew.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
That night, when he was drunk and mumbled, *"Let's be together, my love..."* I had thought he was speaking to me. But the tone, the inflection—he had been projecting *her* onto me the entire time.
For five years, he hadn't called me by a pet name. Not once.
It turned out I had been the fool all along.
A bitter, self-deprecating smile twisted my lips. I typed two words:
*Let's break up.*
I sent it. Then I deleted the account permanently.
Almost immediately, my phone began to vibrate.
An unfamiliar number. He was calling. Since I had blocked his main number, he was using another line.
I didn't answer.
The phone buzzed again. And again. Text messages flooded in, frantic and disjointed.
*"Audrey Henson, who gave you permission to break up?"*
*"Where are you? I'm coming to find you."*
*"Why aren't you replying? Are you throwing a tantrum?"*
*"Just wait for me at home, obediently. I can explain everything!"*
*"...Why did your boss say you're going abroad? Are you at the airport?"*
*"Audrey, don't move. Wait for me. Please, just wait a little longer—I'm almost there."*
I took a deep breath, my finger hovering over the screen.
*Block.*
The intercom crackled overhead, announcing my flight. I picked up my small carry-on and walked toward the gate. Once seated, I switched my phone to airplane mode.
I would never receive another message from him.
I stared out the window at the white clouds and blue sky, silently bidding farewell to the city that had held me captive for twenty-five years.
*Goodbye, Matthew James. I never want to see you again.*
At that exact moment, on a highway speeding toward the airport, the last message Matthew typed failed to send. A red exclamation mark appeared next to the text bubble.
The unsent message read:
*"Audrey, Julia Fox and I are only contract spouses. It's business. We can divorce in one year. Just wait one more year, and I can marry you properly. I love you. I really, really love you. I, Matthew James, have never loved anyone else in my life. You won't leave me, right?"*
Matthew stared at the screen, his face draining of color. He slammed the brakes, the car screeching to a halt on the shoulder.
"Get out," he rasped.
Julia Fox, sitting in the passenger seat, looked at him in shock.
"Get out!" he roared, his voice cracking.
He forced her out of the car, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. He slammed the door and floored the gas, racing toward the airport like a man possessed.
