Chapter 2

2

Zane didn't take my breakup seriously.

He posted a status on social media: "You can't spoil women too much. Once they overdo the drama, they stop being cute."

The next day, I showed up at the office on time.

I was the CFO of the company and a founding member who had built this place with him.

As I reached my office door, I saw it was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open and my breath hitched.

Lyla, the intern, was sitting boldly in my chair.

She was holding my private bone china coffee cup―a gift Zane gave me for our fifth anniversary.

What made me physically sick was the oversized white shirt she was wearing.

The sleeves were rolled up, and the collar was dipping low.

That was Zane's spare shirt that he kept in his office lounge.

"Oh, Director Reed, you're here."

Lyla didn't get up. Instead, she flashed me a bright, sunny smile.

"Mr. Sterling said you weren't feeling well. He asked me to help organize your files."

As she spoke, she purposefully swirled the coffee in my cup.

"This cup is so pretty. Mr. Sterling said I could have it. You don't mind, do you?"

I stared at her. The pressure from my germaphobia made my fingertips go numb.

"Put it down."

My voice was freezing.

Lyla acted like she was startled and her hand jerked.

The scalding hot coffee poured directly onto the Series C funding proposal I had printed last night.

The brown liquid soaked through three nights of my hard work instantly.

"Oops! I'm so sorry! So sorry!"

She stood up in a panic, but her eyes were full of pure provocation.

The colleagues outside were peeking in, whispering to each other.

There was very little sympathy in their eyes. Most were just there for the show.

Zane walked in at that exact moment.

He didn't even glance at the ruined proposal on the floor. His first move was to grab Lyla's hand.

"Did you get burned?"

Lyla's eyes turned red, and she shrunk into his chest.

"Mr. Sterling, it's all my fault. I accidentally ruined Gia's files."

Zane turned to me, his brow furrowed into a deep scowl as he barked.

"It's just a file. Redo it. Why are you being such a bitch to her?"

"Look at yourself. You look like a bitter, aging housewife."

I looked at the mess on the floor. That proposal was my final effort to help him secure the next round of funding.

But all he saw was this fragile, pouting girl.

Lyla hid behind him. While he was looking down to comfort her, she mouthed two words at me.

"Old woman."

In that moment, something deep inside me shattered completely.

"Zane, get this intern out of my office. Now."

I suppressed my rage, keeping my tone as flat as possible.

Zane looked like I had insulted his pride. To protect his ego in front of his new toy, he made an announcement.

"Lyla is promoted to Executive Assistant starting today. Her office will be right next to yours."

"Also, I want you to mentor her. Teach her the core business operations."

He called it "mentoring a newcomer." In reality, he wanted to strip my power and give it to this useless brat.

I looked him in the eye. "Are you sure about this?"

"Gia, don't you dare use that tone with me."

He dropped those words and walked away, shielding Lyla as they left.

When I got back to our villa that night, the feeling of invasion only got worse.

I went into the bathroom to shower and saw my electric toothbrush had been moved.

The brush head was wet. It smelled like cloying, sweet peach toothpaste.

I never used that brand.

I walked into the bedroom. The pillows reeked of cheap, floral perfume.

It was the scent Lyla wore.

My germaphobia hit its breaking point.

I ripped the sheets, the duvet, and the pillows off the bed and shoved them into the trash.

Zane pushed the door open right then. Seeing the bare mattress, he started screaming.

"Gia! What the hell is wrong with you now?"

"I just brought Lyla back to pick up some files. She rested here for a bit. Is this really necessary?"

I looked at him, feeling like I was staring at a terrifying stranger.

"You brought her into our bedroom?"

"It's my house! I'll bring whoever the hell I want!"

Zane slammed the door and left. He didn't even look back.

Ten minutes later, I saw his post on social media.

It was a photo of him mixing a drink for Lyla at a bar. The lighting was intimate.

The caption read: "Youth is better. No stiff, annoying rules."

I sat on the living room floor, looking at the bedsheets in the trash.

The love I had for him was being peeled away by this extreme disgust.

I pulled out my phone and called a headhunter.

"Get me in touch with that investment bank that's been trying to poach me. I'm ready to jump ship."

At the same time, I started auditing all our joint assets.

Since everything was already filthy, I might as well burn it all down.