Chapter 6
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Somehow, word of our breakup spread like wildfire through the company.
Only then did people begin to see things clearly–Scott and Chloe had never been some fated couple. They were just a match made in the gutter. A cheater and a homewrecker, bound by their own ugliness.
I’d worked there for years and built a good rapport with just about everyone. So when I was driven out by the two of them, there was more sympathy than silence. No one spoke openly, but the whispers filled every corner of the office:
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“Honestly, Alyssa was just too dignified. If it were me, I’d have thrown punches right in the middle of the office. She worked so hard for all these years—why should that vixen get to enjoy the fruits?”
“Chloe really has no shame. Always showing up in designer clothes–I thought she came from money. Turns out she was just someone’s side piece.”
“Sigh… what goes around comes around. Heaven sees everything. They’ll get what’s coming to them.”
And karma didn’t take long.
Back when I was still around, Scott might’ve had the title of CEO, but everyone knew I was the one actually making things happen–closing deals, securing clients, doing the real work. After I left, I took my accumulated network with me. And one by one, our major clients began to pull out.
One or two cancellations could be salvaged. But when a flood of long–term partners all withdrew at once, the structure started to wobble. The company teetered on collapse.
Eventually, after several failed attempts through various channels, a call finally made its
way to my phone. I picked up, and on the other end came the sound of desperation.
“Alyssa, please come back. The company… we can’t function without you. Chloe doesn’t
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Chapter 6
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know the first thing about management. Every day we’re bleeding money. Honestly, we can’t even afford lunch anymore.”
I glanced at the fresh set of nails I’d just had done, smiling faintly.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, voice soft but firm. “I’m in New York now, resting for the baby.
My husband won’t let me take on anything too strenuous.”
There was a stunned silence.
usband? Isn’t the father of your baby-?”
didn’t even get to finish. I’d already ended the call.
Across from me, Xavier Conrad draped a shawl carefully over my shoulders. He reached out to touch my forehead.
“You should really wear more layers,” he murmured. “If you catch a cold again and refuse to take your medicine, we’re in trouble.”
I frowned, childishly.
“That was years ago! Don’t bring it up again.”
Back when our families were still neighbors, I used to love visiting his house. There was always something warm about him—this older boy with soft eyes and a gentle smile. I liked him from the start, I think. Maybe some feelings just come built–in.
I used to sneak off to play no matter the weather, even in the rain. I never wanted to go home. And sure enough, I’d wake up sick the next day.
To avoid my mother’s relentless attempts to make me take medicine, I’d pretend I was going over to Xavier’s to study. I’d stay there the whole day.
Years later, I learned the truth: Xavier had made a deal with my mom. He was the one who gave me the medicine–disguised as juice. The worst part? I believed him. I spent years developing a weird aversion to fruit juice because of that.
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Seeing me wrinkle my nose at the memory, Xavier chuckled.
“You’re going to be a mother soon, you know,” he teased. “Still acting like a kid.”
Then his smile softened.
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“But if you want to be a child forever, at least with me, I wouldn’t mind taking care of you.”
The lamp by the bed cast a warm, golden glow across his face. And for a moment, just a brief flicker, I remembered the day we met again.
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