Chapter 3

3 A sharp ping from my phone pulled me out of a half-asleep haze.

I glanced at the screen, but it was only an automated message from the phone carrier about an overdue bill.

Curled up on the dusty couch, my eyes felt completely dry.

I couldn't even shed a single tear.

Remembering that my passport and important documents were still at our old penthouse, I drove back early the next morning.

The second I unlocked the front door, the aroma of a hot breakfast hit my nose.

Seeing me walk in, Elena offered a faint smile.

"Go wash your hands. We were just waiting for you."

Looking at the warm spread on the dining table, my chest tightened.

I had planned to sit down and talk through our breakup calmly, but then I caught sight of Tristan lounging in the corner of the sofa.

Several buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing faint red marks along his collarbone.

When he noticed me, he acted completely nonchalant.

He stood up slowly, deliberately brushing against my shoulder as he passed.

Then he tossed a set of car keys straight at my chest.

"The building manager called about moving the car. Since you're here, go take care of it."

He apparently had no idea about my real relationship with Elena, treating me like an errand boy he could boss around.

"Hurry up. What are you standing there gaping at?"

I looked at Elena with a deadpan expression, but she didn't offer a word of explanation.

She merely gave me a pointed look, silently telling me to follow Tristan's orders.

After a few seconds of silence, I let the car keys drop straight to the hardwood floor.

I turned to Tristan and said coldly, "Get your own crew to run your errands. I don't owe you a damn thing."

Instantly, the atmosphere in the living room dropped below freezing.

That single sentence wiped the smug smirk right off Tristan's face.

Unable to lose his temper in front of Elena, he sighed with an exaggerated pout.

"Sorry, I forgot you're Elena's personal assistant. I was out of line just now. My bad."

A second later, Elena's sharp voice rang out.

"Tristan is my fiancé! His business is my business! Why are you suddenly acting so entitled?"

In that exact moment, the very last shred of my patience snapped.

I bent down, picked up my documents, and headed straight for the front door.

Elena rushed after me, whispering frantically in my ear.

"Tristan is still young and reckless with his mouth, so don't take it personally."

"The press team is coming over later for a lifestyle shoot. We're just getting into character ahead of time, so don't get the wrong idea."

I turned to look at her, studying every micro-expression on her flawless face. Unfortunately, Elena was a world-class actress.

Even when she was lying through her teeth, I couldn't spot a single flaw.

To make matters worse, Tristan couldn't resist stoking the flames after getting his way.

He let out a snide chuckle, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Wow, assistants these days sure have an attitude. Did we hire an employee, or did we adopt an entitled royal?"

"Since you're so reluctant, I'll just go move the car myself."

That remark hit a raw nerve buried deep inside me.

Six months ago, her romance film became a blockbuster, and the production team booked a luxury restaurant to celebrate.

That day, I had a 103-degree fever and was bedridden.

Yet Elena sent me a text demanding that I show up within twenty minutes.

Thinking it was her big milestone, I dragged myself out of bed without hesitation.

I hailed a cab and rushed over as fast as I could.

I thought she wanted to share her moment of glory with me.

In reality, Tristan and several crew members had gotten blackout drunk, throwing up all over the VIP lounge floor.

Elena couldn't handle the mess alone, so she called me to clean up after them.

Dragging my feverish body, I got on my hands and knees with wet rags to scrub up their vomit.

I called cabs, reserved hotel rooms, and handled the hotel staff.

I didn't finish cleaning up their mess until three in the morning.

Elena didn't offer a single word of comfort. Instead, she complained that I seemed distracted and was working far too slowly.

Three hundred and sixty-five days a year, I had zero personal time.

My phone was on twenty-four-seven, yet I only received a tiny allowance for living expenses.

What top star's personal assistant was treated like a glorified slave? Seeing Elena continuously take his side, I finally understood where I stood in her heart.

I took a deep, steady breath and spoke calmly.

"Miss Sharpe, I won't be serving as your assistant anymore. Please hire someone else."