The day my mom married Julian Vance's father, he got drunk and cornered me with red eyes: "Joanna, letting your mom marry into wealth... was this your goal all along?" "Great! Just great!" In that moment, the troubled boy I had saved began to hate me. He didn't break up with me. But from that day on, he changed. He brought different women home every night. Until now, he set his sights on his new secretary. This time was different. Three months passed, and he still hadn't dumped her. On New Year's Eve, I saw them at a Michelin-starred restaurant. I was working overtime, negotiating a deal. He and Chloe were having a candlelight dinner. Two people who had loved each other for ten years sat at adjacent tables like strangers. I smiled politely, making conversation, while the client touched my hand suggestively. He slid a hotel key card across the table. Just as the situation became unbearable, fireworks exploded outside the window. JULIAN LOVES CHLOE At that moment, I looked at Julian. My heart plummeted. He won. After the dinner, I turned around and made a call. "Mom, I agree to break up with him. Book me a flight out of the country next week." Chapter 1 I walked aimlessly on the street, phone pressed to my ear. The last night of the year was exceptionally cold. Sleet mixed with rain, the wind drilling into my heart. The New Year's bell rang. Cheers erupted from the crowd. I followed their gaze. On the giant LED screen of the Vance Tower, a sentence scrolled across: "Happy New Year to the most beautiful and capable fairy at Vance Corp, Chloe." On the first day of the new year, her name still haunted me. Passersby read it aloud with envy, their voices transmitting through the phone. Mom was furious: "That's too much! I'm going to talk to your Uncle Richard." "No need, Mom. I'm leaving anyway." I hung up indifferently. The suffocating pain I used to feel was gone. But seeing the "2-hour wait" on the Uber app made me irritable. A jarring honk sounded. Julian's car was cruising beside me. Chloe leaned out from the passenger seat, greeting me enthusiastically. "Joanna! Are you going home?" "Mmhmm," I replied calmly. She exaggerated her pity, practically clinging to Julian: "Aww~ The wait for Uber is forever tonight. We're going the same way, but Julian bought so many gifts, the back seat is full. Otherwise, we could have given you a ride." I stopped. Through the window, I could see a massive bouquet of roses taking up most of the back seat. Before I could look closer, a suit jacket hit me square in the face. I caught it instinctively. Julian's sneer reached my ears: "Cover up that smell of alcohol. It stinks. Don't let clients complain about you to the company." The heavy jacket stung my face. I watched Julian's taillights disappear into the night. I threw the suit I had personally ironed—now stained with another woman's scent—into a roadside donation bin. I got home three hours later. The lights were on, but the house was empty. He was out again. I thought I was used to it. But when the bathroom steam fogged up the mirror, revealing handprints from an intimate moment, the alcohol in my stomach churned. I vomited, tears mixing with bile. When I came out, dawn was breaking. Two unread messages on my phone. One: Flight booking confirmed. The other from Julian: [Busy. Not coming back.] Scrolling up, our communication this year was scarce. Mostly me making endless calls, and him replying with a single word: [Busy.] I habitually opened Chloe's Instagram. As expected, a perfect nine-grid post. 999 roses, New Year's fireworks... and the center photo: a mirror selfie of her hugging Julian. I recognized the place. Julian's property on the West Side. In the corner of the mirror was a sticker of Judy and Nick from Zootopia—a souvenir from a movie we watched together. Now it was soaked, peeling, and pathetic. Disgusting. Julian didn't return for the next few days. The housekeeper was on holiday. I wandered the huge, empty house like a ghost. Only the food delivery reminders marked the time. Spicy wings, ghost pepper fries, Sichuan hotpot... When the fifth spicy meal appeared on the table, I couldn't take it anymore. I swept them all into the trash and sent a photo to Julian. [Stop ordering. I'm not the one who loves spicy food.] He called immediately. Julian's voice was raspy, laced with post-coital laziness and impatience. "Throwing a tantrum with a hunger strike? Fine. Just don't call me when you end up in the hospital again." Chloe's chirpy voice chimed in. "Joanna, just try it! Julian and I tasted these places, they're super yummy!" "Ignore her. Let her starve if she wants." I pressed my lips together, swallowing the urge to humiliate myself by asking: Julian, you remember I have gastritis and need regular meals. Do you remember I went to the hospital last time because I ate spicy food? The words stuck in my throat. Finally, I replied: "I can order for myself." "Heh, yourself?" Julian repeated ambiguously, then scoffed. "Joanna, you don't want food. You just want money, right?" Chapter 2 "Joanna, aren't you and your mom just after my family's money?" The mocking voice overlapped with my memory. Even after a year, it still smashed me to pieces. Tears fell onto the table. When I snapped back, the call had ended. A transfer of $150,000 hit my bank account. Followed by a voice message. "50k for food. 100k for your errand fee. Chloe dropped a bra strap in the sofa crack. Find it and bring it to her when you come to work on Monday." I moved the couple's pillow and found the black strap in the crevice. We picked this sofa together. I loved it at first sight. Julian tested its softness and smiled: "Size is perfect. I apply for extra pillows so we can be more comfortable." Lovers' talk, always a bit suggestive. I scolded him, he laughed. We picked item after item, decorating our dream home. But now, seeing the things I carefully chose sharing space with him and another woman... I felt repulsed. Since I'm leaving, throw them all away. I packed from dawn to dusk. Eight years of feelings turned into five boxes of trash and one suitcase. Confirming the house was devoid of my traces, the discomfort finally eased. Only one thing left. I took a photo album from the bedside drawer. 279 photos, all torn and taped back together. From graduation to college, cohabitation, and work. The photos recorded our entire youth. The last one was New Year's Eve last year. We toasted under fireworks, celebrating our seventh year. Three days after that photo was taken. Uncle Richard (Julian's dad) and my divorced Mom announced at dinner that they wanted to be together. Julian kept a straight face and agreed. I was happy too. But back at our home, he tore the photos and threw them at my face. "Joanna, you and your mom are so cheap. Just after my family's money? 'Kissing cousins'? Disgusting!" I stood there, bewildered, watching him vent his rage. Julian and I found out at the same time. I thought he genuinely accepted it. I took out all the photos, tore them again along the taped cracks, and threw them into the trash. Chapter 3 I saw Julian again at the first morning meeting after the holidays. He sat at the head. Chloe sat beside him, whispering and laughing intimately. My relationship with Julian wasn't public in the company. To avoid suspicion, our most intimate interaction used to be a knowing smile. My eyes fell on his hands on the table. On his left middle finger, there used to be a silver band matching my necklace. He bought it with money earned from part-time jobs before the Vance family got rich. Now it was replaced by a gold ring with a green diamond. A flashy couple set matching Chloe's. A colleague nudged me. "Joanna, don't be sad. We all know what tricks she used. You're the real Top Biller in our hearts." I looked up at the screen blankly. Today was the annual summary. The #1 spot belonged to Chloe, someone not even in Sales. One single project pushed me, with 27 deals, to second place. Julian's explanation: This deal had higher margins. But that project was the one I negotiated overtime on New Year's Eve. I put the contract on his desk this morning along with the bra strap. He saw with his own eyes how I was grilled to get that signature. My pen tore through the paper, a sharp sound in the awkward silence. After the meeting, Julian called me into his office. Neither spoke first. Julian's face grew darker. He tapped the table impatiently, the ring flashing in my eyes. I couldn't take it anymore. "Something wrong?" "Don't you have anything to ask?" We spoke simultaneously. I paused, then laughed. Ask what? Why he stayed out all night on our anniversary? Why he gave my project to someone else? Or how long he planned to torture me? None of it mattered anymore. My resignation letter, submitted to HR yesterday, bypassed him and was approved by Uncle Richard. Handover would be done today. The house was cleared. My luggage was in the trunk. I'd head to the airport after work. I said calmly: "If nothing else, I'm leaving." Julian stared at me, face gloomy. "Where is my stuff?" I paused, realizing he meant the anniversary gift. Every year, we made handmade gifts for each other. But given the situation, I thought we were done with that. "Forgot." I gave a perfunctory excuse. Julian's face turned cold. He loosened his tie irritably. "Joanna, have some empathy. Haven't I given you enough money? Do you have to make a scene over this?" "Chloe is alone in this city. I spent New Year's with her out of corporate compassion. She needs the bonus more than you." He paused, then added awkwardly: "If you want the bonus that bad, I can wire it to you directly." One sentence denied all my efforts. After the fight last year, I worked overnight, desperately closing six-figure deals for months. I wanted to tell him I wasn't after his money. I earned enough. But I remembered his arrogant look back then. "Isn't that money given to you by the Vance family too?" Afraid of seeing that contempt again, I shook my head. "No need. Anything else?" He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "No." Chapter 4 As I turned to leave, a red bracelet was thrown from behind the desk, landing by my feet. "Throw it away if you don't like it." Julian's tone was dry, like charity mixed with a scolding. I looked down. The red string was braided messily, with a small, stingy gold bead. Hard to like. I didn't want trouble, so I picked it up. "Understood." I'd throw it away outside. Opening the door, I saw Chloe pretending to be busy but watching us. Seeing me, she greeted sweetly. "Joanna, did you fight with Julian because of me? Sorry, I just casually said I wanted that project. I didn't think he'd actually give it to me." Her eyes caught the bracelet in my hand. Her smile froze for a second, then brightened: "I wondered why Julian was so petty, taking the small gold bead from the ring set. So it was a peace offering for you." "The salesgirl said this bead is part of our love too. It's fitting that Julian gave it to you." "Chloe!" Before I could speak, Julian's panicked voice came from inside. Chloe played with her hair, revealing the matching gold ring. "Julian is calling me. Bye!" Watching the door close, I threw the silver necklace from my neck and the red bracelet into the trash can. Back at my department, a pungent spicy smell filled the air. HR was distributing afternoon tea awkwardly. Everyone looked unhappy. "What's wrong?" Seeing me, my team swarmed over to complain. "Joanna, look. Isn't she doing this on purpose?" I looked at the table. Heavy spicy snacks and double-sugar milk tea. And Chloe's message in the group chat: "Mr. Vance said the Top Biller chooses the celebration tea. So I ordered my favorites." "Don't pretend to be healthy. Life needs spice and sugar to be fun." No wonder they looked green. Sales teams work late; stomachs are sensitive. This would kill them. "Throw it out. I'm buying. Whatever you want." "Long live Joanna!" I smiled at their cheers. I would miss my colleagues more than Julian. We worked together for years. I couldn't tell them I was leaving. This tea would be my goodbye. Near the end of the day, Mom called. She asked if I told Julian. I said no, and told her to say she didn't know if he asked. Uncle Richard's apologetic voice came through. "Joanna, Julian wronged you. I apologize for him. Don't hate him. He's hurting too." Don't hate him? I couldn't. Julian and I were classmates in high school. Mom was our homeroom teacher. Back then, the Vance family wasn't rich yet. Uncle Richard was always away. Julian was a troubled kid with bad grades. I remember after a parent-teacher meeting, Julian fought with his mom in the hallway. "You only tell Dad to take care of his health, and tell me to study hard." "What else can you do besides cooking and cleaning? Useless! Shut up if you can't help!" Later, his mom died in a car crash on the way home. Mom took him in, fearing for his mental health. I understood his guilt and rejection of his mom. But who cared about my pain this past year? He mocked Uncle Richard and Mom, forcing them to move abroad. When I proposed breaking up, he pointed at my nose: "What? Your mom replaced you to dig for gold, so you can retire? Dream on." One year. My love was ground to dust. Knock, knock, knock. The car window rattled. I turned, startled. Julian was knocking, his voice muffled: "My car is in the shop. We're going home together for a few days."
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