My fiancé, Julian, hired a new assistant while I was away on a business trip. She was his junior mentee from college, a classic sweet-faced nuisance. She swapped Julian’s black coffee for a sugary kiddie drink and decorated our professional conference room with giant cartoon pillows. I tried to tell her how unprofessional that was. But Julian frowned, his voice laced with an indulgence I’d never heard directed at me. “Skylar is still just a kid, with a pure heart. You’re older, Anya, be more understanding, don’t be so harsh.” My fingertips went instantly cold. Ten years of dating, seven years building this company side-by-side. I thought we were equals, soulmates, building an empire together. He saw me as a bitter old woman. Fine. A kid, is she? Then I’ll spoil her with you. I swallowed all my advice and just watched Skylar’s little performance unfold, a smile plastered on my face. Until that day, when I watched her personally escort a client, dressed in a bespoke suit, into a rustic farm retreat’s goose pen…
The second round of financing was finally done. I had just landed when my assistant, Chloe, called. “Ms. Stone, Mr. Hayes fired me. He said I was incompetent.” I was stunned. Chloe had been my assistant for three years, always my right hand. Julian, as the company’s co-founder and my fiancé, knew this better than anyone. Why would he suddenly make such a decision? “Chloe, don’t panic. Tell me clearly, what exactly happened?” On the other end, Chloe’s sobbing choked, and her voice became unusually hesitant. “Ms. Stone, you should see this first.” Before she finished speaking, a notification chimed: An unfamiliar social media account, with a small line of text: “Ms. Stone, you’ll understand once you see it.” The moment the avatar popped up, my heart pounded a few frantic beats. That avatar, adorned with a KITTY cat sticker, I had seen it before. Late one night, before my business trip, she had FaceTimed Julian. He hadn’t answered, merely saying dismissively, “I don’t really know this person, must be a wrong number.” As he spoke, he showed me his SnapChat history; it was completely clean, totally blank. I didn’t think much of it. Ten years of shared history, that much trust was a given. But how could this avatar be connected to Chloe getting fired? With a tremor I could barely detect, I tapped into the account. The first pinned post was like an icy needle, piercing directly into my eyes: **[Office Day 1 Check-in!]** **[Making coffee for the CEO, I secretly swapped it for a kiddie drink! (nervous.jpg)]** **[He didn’t even get mad! He even smiled and said I was like a child. He told me to buy two bottles every day from now on, so we can drink them together!]** **[Wuwuwu, another day pampered by the CEO, go go working girl!]** **[Image: A bottle of kiddie drink with a cute straw, sitting on Julian Hayes’ expensive mahogany desk.]** *Boom!* Something exploded in my mind. Kiddie drink? Julian? After ten years together, I knew better than anyone how much he avoided sugar. His family had a severe history of diabetes; his father had passed away early because of it. For years, I hadn’t even dared to buy high-sugar fruits, terrified he might accidentally eat them. He was disciplined to the point of being harsh; candy, cake, and all sugary drinks were strictly forbidden. He always said, “I need to live a long time, to be with you.” But now, he not only agreed to drink a sugary drink with someone else, He even… used that indulgent tone, calling her “a child”? My chest felt squeezed by an invisible hand. I picked up my phone and dialed Julian’s number directly. The long busy signal in the receiver felt like a dull knife sawing at my flesh. Just when I thought it would automatically hang up, it connected. “Hello?” A sickly sweet voice, so saccharine it could make you cringe, answered. “Who are you looking for?” My blood instantly rushed to my head. “Where’s Julian?” “Who are *you*? Didn’t your mother teach you not to call people by their full names? So rude!” *“Click!”* The phone was hung up directly. I gasped for air, my fingertips icy, my palms slick with sweat. Ten years. The awkward teenager who carried me across campus in the pouring rain, the confident man who crammed into a tiny rental with me, eating instant noodles while talking grand ambitions, the steadfast figure who stood in front of me when competitors maliciously attacked us… One image after another, all the trust and warmth I thought were unshakeable, were now thoroughly doused by that phone call and that ridiculous children’s drink. I took deep breaths, trying to convince myself there must be some misunderstanding. After a long while, my trembling body finally calmed, and I hailed a cab to the company. As I stepped out of the executive elevator, I heard a fierce argument.
“Assistant Skylar! This contract must be sent out before ten! Who will take responsibility for millions in losses if we miss the deadline?!” It was Mr. Davis, the Marketing Manager. Always composed, he was now frantic with rage. Immediately following was the voice I’d heard on the phone: “Mr. Davis, don’t shout, you’re scaring me…” Her cloying, sticky voice was like un-melted syrup. “The CEO just fell asleep! What’s more important than his rest? You go back first, and when he wakes up, I promise I’ll tell him right away…” “When he wakes up, things will be way past due! He can rest after signing the contract, the CEO wouldn’t be so irresponsible, now move.” “Oh, why are you like this? Hmph! I’m standing right here, let’s see who dares to go in!” I stood by the elevator door, watching Skylar, dressed in a cutesy, doll-like outfit, acting like a human roadblock, her entire body spread-eagled against the CEO’s office door. Mr. Davis’s forehead throbbed with bulging veins. He wanted to go forward but hesitated, given the gender difference. He could only raise his voice and shout into the office: “Mr. Hayes! Mr. Hayes! Sign this! It’s super urgent!” “It’s no use, Mr. Davis,” Skylar giggled, covering her mouth. “I guessed you guys would argue, so I put noise-canceling headphones on the CEO beforehand! Top-of-the-line too!” She blinked her big eyes, wearing a “Look how smart I am, praise me” expression, but then instantly switched to a pained, teary look of grievance: “Why doesn’t anyone care about the CEO? He works so hard… I’m the only one in the whole company who cares about him…” Rage instantly flooded my limbs. I took a deep breath and quickly stepped forward. “What is going on here?!” The two, who had just been at loggerheads, froze, turning to face me. In the open office area, other employees who had been watching the spectacle seemed to have been put on mute. The air was dead silent, all eyes fixed on me. I walked straight past them, staring coldly at Skylar. My voice wasn’t loud, but it carried an undeniable authority. “Move.” Her face, which had been plastered with “grievance,” changed dramatically the moment she saw me. A flicker of panic crossed her eyes. But the next second, she somehow managed to look self-righteous again. “Ms. Stone, I’m the CEO’s assistant, even if you…” My patience ran out. I raised my hand, and without the slightest hesitation, shoved her away from the door.
The CEO’s office was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn. Julian was sprawled in his executive chair, a pair of gigantic, Mickey Mouse-shaped noise-canceling headphones on his head, sleeping soundly. On his desk, a game controller and empty snack bags lay scattered. This sight was like a resounding slap across my face. For three entire months, I had been tirelessly seeking funding and sponsorships, sleeping less than four hours a day. And him? Was *this* what he was busy with? Anger surged. I walked to his side and unceremoniously yanked off his headphones. Julian startled awake, his eyes bleary, an annoyed grunt escaping him. “Who…” When he saw it was me, his annoyance instantly morphed into surprise. “Anya?!” He shot upright, his eyes even brightening. “When did you get back?! Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked you up at the airport!” His voice was genuinely happy, even carrying a hint of reproach. In the past, I would have thought he loved me deeply. But now, I only found him utterly fake. “Pick me up?” I forced a smile, the curve of my lips icy. “I wouldn’t dare trouble Mr. Hayes.” Perhaps he caught the sarcasm in my words, as Julian’s smile stiffened. I didn’t give him a chance to explain. I picked up the delayed contract and slapped it down in front of him: “Sign it.” “Mr. Davis is at his wit’s end outside. Are millions worth of contracts less important than the CEO’s gaming and beauty sleep?” My words stung him, his face turning an ugly shade of red and white, but he signed it immediately. I handed the contract to Mr. Davis, who looked at me with gratitude. “Go quickly.” Mr. Davis rushed out as if he’d been granted a great pardon. The office door closed again, shutting out countless probing gazes. Inside, only Julian and I remained, and… the uninvited one.
Skylar had somehow slipped back in, limping, tears streaming down her face, looking as if she had suffered the greatest injustice. “CEO…” she whimpered timidly, successfully catching Julian’s attention. “Skylar? What happened to you?” Julian frowned, his voice full of concern. Here we go. I watched with a cold eye, knowing the show was about to begin. “I… I’m fine…” Skylar said so, but then, right in front of Julian and me, she did something astounding— She suddenly bent down, grabbed the hem of her skirt with both hands, and forcefully lifted it! Two smooth legs were exposed to the air. On her left knee, a large, fresh patch of red and swollen bruising was starkly visible. It looked shocking! “Ms. Stone… Ms. Stone pushed me just now… I hit the marble floor…” She lifted her tear-filled face, looking at me accusingly, then quickly lowered her head, her shoulders subtly shaking. I scoffed. How much force had I used when I pushed her? I knew perfectly well. She had stood steady as a rock. And now, she was injured like this? Her acting was so good, it was a waste for her not to be in Hollywood. “Skylar, you…” I began, ready to expose her pathetic act. “I’m sorry! Ms. Stone! It’s all my fault!” But Skylar suddenly bowed deeply, a full ninety degrees, cutting me off. Her voice was thick with sobs and boundless “sincerity.” “I shouldn’t have blocked the door… I just… I just wanted the CEO to rest well…” “If I made you misunderstand, Ms. Stone, and think I was deliberately stopping you… then it’s all my fault! I apologize to you! I’m sorry! Please forgive me!” She remained bent at the waist, her posture utterly humble. The angle was just right for Julian to see her swollen knee and tear-stained eyelashes. My eyes immediately went to Julian. Sure enough. Those eyes, which had once looked at me with complete devotion, were now filled with pity for another woman. And… a hint of dissatisfaction directed at me, almost imperceptible. That look, like a poisoned ice pick, precisely pierced my last shred of illusion. Ten years of unspoken understanding, gone, undone by the tears of a manipulative innocent and a fake bruise. “Enough! Skylar! Get up!” Julian’s face was stern, his voice deliberately raised, sounding stiff. He walked around the desk, quickly moving to Skylar’s side. He wanted to help her up, but hesitated halfway, his hand stopping, aware of my presence. He turned to me, his voice carrying a thinly veiled “explanation”: “Anya, I was the one who gave orders not to be disturbed! It’s not her fault! You… you went too far!” What a “just following orders”! What a “you went too far”! This seemingly “explanation” was, in reality, every word a jab at me! Accusing me of pushing the door, of “disturbing” his rest, and even of “harming” this “innocent” “little assistant” who only had his well-being in mind! A massive sense of absurdity and icy anger swept over me. I didn’t want to argue with him in front of this drama queen; it would only make me look like a hysterical shrew. “Get her out.” I stared at Julian, my voice chillingly calm. Julian seemed to choke on my resolute tone. He looked at Skylar, his voice a soothing coax to a child: “Skylar, go out for now. Didn’t you say you ordered fruit salad? Go hurry them up.” Skylar’s sobbing instantly quieted. She slowly straightened up, pouting, her watery eyes looking at Julian, with a hint of a plea: “CEO… Senior Brother…” “Go,” Julian waved his hand, his voice infinitely gentle. Only then did Skylar, glancing back every few steps, drag her “injured” leg, slowly and limping, out of the office. The door softly closed behind her.
Inside, the air was as frozen as a river of ice. Only Julian and I remained, in a silent standoff. The tenderness on his face from moments ago hadn’t fully faded. When he looked at me, though his face was full of affection, there was also a hint of guilt. I looked at him, his face, familiar from ten years of being together, now felt utterly strange. My nails dug deep into my palms, using the sharp pain to force myself to maintain my last shred of composure. “Why did you fire Chloe?” I asked, my voice steady from extreme effort. “She’s been with me for three years, never made a single mistake, and she wouldn’t be ‘incompetent’ for no reason.” Julian’s eyes flickered, then he adopted a formal, business-like expression. His brow furrowed. “Anya, I know Chloe is your person. But this time, she went too far!” He paused, seemingly weighing his words, or perhaps eager to clear his name. “Yesterday morning, Skylar… oh, Assistant Skylar, was only half an hour late.” “You know, young people, occasionally oversleep, it’s understandable.” “But Chloe? She actually yelled at Skylar in the office, in front of so many people, making her cry!” “Her words were extremely nasty, saying she was ‘ill-mannered’ and ‘holding us back,’ even… even hinting she got her position through improper means!” “This is blatant personal insult! The company is a place of rules; we can’t tolerate this kind of behavior!” “That’s why I fired her. It’s to maintain the company’s image and to give newcomers a fair environment!” “Chloe yelled at her? And insulted her personally?” I almost scoffed. I knew Chloe’s personality better than anyone. If something could be solved by docking pay, she wouldn’t waste an extra word. “Julian, Chloe isn’t that kind of person. She…” “Anya!” Julian abruptly cut me off, his voice suddenly rising, filled with the indignation of his authority being questioned. “What do you mean? Do you think I’m lying? Or do you think Skylar is lying?” He stared directly at me, his gaze sharp and cold. “Skylar is my junior mentee. She has a pure heart, none of your complicated schemes! She cried until her eyes were swollen, do you think she was faking that too?!” “Pure heart? *You guys*?” I repeated his words, each one like a poisoned needle, pricking my heart. That pathetic performance just moments ago was still vivid in my mind, and he believed she had a pure heart, meaning he believed *I* had pushed her. Chloe and I were “you guys,” so, the two of them were “us”? Realizing this made my chest ache, almost suffocating me. The atmosphere instantly dropped to freezing.
Perhaps realizing his tone had been too harsh, Julian’s indignation on his face softened slightly, replaced by an almost condescending “peace-making” gesture. He sighed, his voice softening. “Alright, Anya, I know you’re protective. If you’re really unhappy… I’ll have HR call Chloe back? Just to save face for you.” His tone made it sound as if bringing Chloe back was a huge favor. “Of course she’s coming back.” I stared at him, my voice firm. “Restore her to her original position, with full compensation. Not a cent less.” “But Julian, I can handle that myself. What I want to talk to you about isn’t that at all!” He paused, surprised. “Then what is it?” “It’s *you*!” I took a step forward, glaring at him. “It’s your series of unprofessional behaviors that have fallen below all standards, ever since this ‘pure-hearted’ Skylar came to the company!” “You let her swap black coffee for sugary kiddie drinks.” “Because she was late, you fired a loyal employee who had made significant contributions to the company!” “Tell me, is this still the Julian I’ve known for ten years? I barely recognize you anymore!” Julian was nailed to the spot by my barrage of questions, his face cycling through shades of red and white. He opened his mouth, his eyes shifting with complex emotions. Finally, a familiar, self-satisfied smirk crept onto his lips. He suddenly reached out, trying to pull me closer, but I sidestepped, avoiding his touch. “Anya…” His tone was a mix of helplessness and smugness. “Are you… jealous?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice, intimately. “There’s really nothing going on between us! Professor asked me to help her find a job.” “She’s clumsy and a little clever, which reminds me of our university days… I felt a bit nostalgic, so I indulged her a little.” “I promise! It absolutely won’t happen again! I’ll handle company matters by the book from now on, okay? Don’t be mad?” “Jealous?” Those two words felt like a red-hot iron branding my heart. I looked at his face, wearing that “I’m trying to make you happy” expression, and my stomach churned. Ten years of weathering storms together, and now, at a critical moment with the company on the verge of going public. I was utterly exhausted, trying to talk to him about boundaries, principles, and his appallingly hypocritical and unprofessional conduct. And he just lightly dismissed it as “jealousy”? And blamed it on “nostalgia for youth”? This was no longer simple favoritism; this was a double insult to my intelligence and my character! I was about to make myself clearer when a sudden commotion erupted outside, mixed with a deliberately raised, overly sweet shout: “Everyone’s worked so hard! The CEO is treating everyone to fruit salad! Come and get it!” It was Skylar. Julian and I exchanged a glance, and I saw a clear look of “saved by the bell” relief in his eyes. Without the slightest hesitation, he moved past me, pushed the door open, and walked out.
Skylar flitted around the open office area like a bright butterfly, dragging a massive foam box. Her face was beaming, not a trace of tears or grievance left. Even her “injured” leg seemed perfectly agile now. Seeing Julian and me emerge, her eyes lit up, and she grabbed two fruit salads, scurrying over. “Ms. Stone! CEO! Here, these are yours! They’re super delicious!” Julian took his naturally, even giving her an approving smile. I, however, didn’t move. My gaze fell on the plastic bowls in front of me—the cheap containers were almost transparent, and the bowl walls were stained with suspicious water marks. Cheap fruit, spotted with brown, was submerged in a grayish-white, sticky liquid. When I leaned closer, a strange odor, a mix of artificial flavoring and sourness, hit my nostrils. My brow instantly furrowed. “Assistant Skylar, where did you buy this fruit salad?” Skylar’s smile stiffened for a moment, then she plastered on an even sweeter one. “Just… just near the company, you know.” “Specifically which store?” I pressed, my gaze sharp as a knife. “Name? Address? Do you have a receipt?” Skylar’s face instantly paled. Her eyes began to dart around frantically, her lips trembling, and her voice immediately took on a whimper: “Ms… Ms. Stone… what… what do you mean by that?” “I… I just thought I’d get everyone something nice…” “My… my family isn’t well-off, I never had good things growing up… Maybe… maybe what I bought isn’t up to your standards…” “But you… you don’t have to… insult me like that, do you?” As she spoke, tears came on cue. Paired with that cautious, innocent expression, she looked exactly like a poor, helpless victim being bullied by a cruel villainess. “Insult you?” The anger I’d been holding back exploded! I raised my voice, making sure the entire office could hear clearly: “I’m asking you for the source! This yogurt smells spoiled! Food safety is a serious matter! Everyone, don’t eat these yet!” Silence instantly fell over the office area. The employees who had been given fruit salads froze, exchanging uneasy glances. “Anya Stone! That’s enough!” Julian’s enraged voice boomed. His face was ashen, his eyes like knives, cutting into me, filled with unbelievable fury and… deep concern for Skylar. As if to prove a point, or perhaps to spite me. He abruptly tore off the lid of his own bowl and, in front of everyone, aggressively scooped several large spoonfuls into his mouth, chewed them haphazardly, and swallowed! “I ate it! I think it’s fine!” He slammed the empty bowl onto a nearby desk with a dull *thump*. Then, his gaze, sharp as a blade, swept across every employee in the room, carrying blatant pressure and warning: “The CEO is treating, it’s a kind gesture! Everyone, don’t hold back!” The air solidified. Under immense pressure, some employees reluctantly began to eat. Skylar seized the opportunity, covered her face, and let out a loud wail, turning and running towards the fire escape. “Skylar!” Julian cried out anxiously, not even sparing me another glance, and rushed after her. As he brushed past me, a gust of wind, bitingly cold, swept by. I stood rooted to the spot. Watching the fire escape door swing back and forth, watching the employees in the office with their varied expressions, watching the cheap plastic bowl on the desk emitting that strange odor… My heart was filled with an unspeakable weariness. Ten years of a beautiful illusion, now, finally, thoroughly shattered.
“Janitorial staff, please clean this up. Everyone, back to work.” I calmly gave the instruction, then turned and went back to my office. A mountain of documents was piled on my desk. Thankfully, they kept me busy, leaving no room for sorrow. But the calm lasted only one morning before trouble struck again. After lunch, some employees turned green, clutching their stomachs, and started making endless trips to the restroom. Julian had run off, his phone unanswered, leaving me as the only one to clean up this mess. The fiasco triggered by the “CEO’s generous gesture” finally turned into a heavy burden crashing down on my shoulders. “HR! Compile a list of sick employees! Mild cases, rest. Severe cases, send to the hospital immediately!” “Legal! Report this mass food poisoning incident! Prepare all the necessary documents!” “All departments, review urgent tasks, ensure core operations continue without interruption! Minimize the impact!” My instructions were clear and cold, like a machine in motion. I forced myself to ignore the sharp pain of my nails digging into my palms, to ignore the frozen emptiness in my chest, and even more, to ignore the SnapChat notification of Skylar’s latest update: In front of a dimly lit claw machine, Julian was shown in profile, an expression of indulgence on his face that I had never seen before. Skylar’s hand was covering his larger one; they were “working together” to control the joystick. Caption: **[CEO is here playing claw machine with me instead of working]** **[Wuwuwu, it’s all my fault for being so clumsy, couldn’t win anything after dozens of tries, cried QAQ!]** **[The CEO couldn’t stand it anymore, personally stepping in to teach me! Feeling his hand over mine is just too swoon-worthy!]** **[Even though I still didn’t win the strawberry bear I wanted, the feeling of being pampered is already a perfect score!]** **[#CEOSoGentle #JuniorMentee’sExclusiveCoach]** The background sound seemed to still echo in my ears—”Skylar, don’t cry, which one do you want? I’ll help you win it.” And the background sound of reality now was the wailing sirens of ambulances approaching, the painful moans of employees, the incessant sharp ringing of phones. What an utterly absurd contrast. I twitched my lips, giving a self-deprecating laugh. In college, once, when we passed an arcade, I had impulsively asked him, “Julian, let’s try to win one too?” What did he say then? He frowned, his voice full of disdain: “Anya, how old are you, still playing this? So childish. You’d be better off reading another financial report.” It turns out, he didn’t dislike playing claw machines. He just disliked playing claw machines with *me*. Or rather, he preferred the “clumsy” girl who allowed him to play the role of “savior” and “gentle mentor.” Not me, the “older woman” who could fight alongside him, rational and calm. It wasn’t worth it anymore. Julian, and this crumbling ten-year relationship, weren’t worth another second of my effort. It was time to cut ties, decisively.
The next dozen hours felt like rolling through hell. The hospital emergency room was packed, filled with the sour stench of vomit, the sharp smell of disinfectant, and the painful groans of dozens of employees. Family members, hearing the news, arrived, their furious accusations almost raising the roof. I, along with the few remaining senior executives, moved through it like a fire brigade. Consoling families, liaising with doctors, cooperating with government investigations, handling urgent contracts… My brain was working at high speed, but my body felt like lead. My throat was already hoarse, my eyes bloodshot, my stomach empty yet without appetite, only cold coffee keeping me going. Julian’s phone? Still silent. His social media account, however, was updated—they had moved to a dimly lit dessert shop, sharing a hundred-times more exquisite-looking Tiramisu. It wasn’t until past midnight that the chaotic emergency room finally quieted down a bit. My taut nerves suddenly slackened, and an intense wave of dizziness washed over me. I leaned against the cold wall, clinging to my last shred of consciousness, and said to my equally exhausted subordinates, “You all take turns resting, I…” Before I finished speaking, my vision suddenly went black. Before losing consciousness, I seemed to hear a startled cry: “Anya!” When I woke again, the hospital room’s stark white ceiling was above me. A person sat by the bed: Julian. He looked rather disheveled.
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