After His Affair with HR, I Ended His Career

Chapter 1

Three years. Three years of loving Jake Morrison with every fiber of my being. Three years of supporting his dreams, celebrating his victories, and planning our future together. Tonight was supposed to be special—our anniversary dinner at Maison Laurent, the restaurant where we'd had our first date.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing a strand of hair behind my ear. The bouquet of white roses—his favorite—lay on the passenger seat beside me. I'd left work early to pick them up, along with a vintage watch I'd been saving for months to buy him. Jake had been working late all week on the Henderson campaign, and I wanted to surprise him, to remind him that even in the midst of his rising career at Blackstone Entertainment, we still had each other.

The elevator hummed as it carried me to the fourteenth floor. The office was nearly empty at this hour, most of the staff having left for the day. Only a few desk lamps illuminated the open workspace, casting long shadows across the sleek, modern furniture. I twisted the silver ring my grandmother had given me—a nervous habit I'd developed over the years—as I approached Jake's corner office.

The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. I heard voices—low murmurs punctuated by soft laughter. Jake wasn't alone. I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt if he was with a client. But then I heard her voice—Sophia Blake, head of talent acquisition. Something in her tone made me pause, my hand frozen in mid-air before knocking.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me," Jake's voice, husky and intimate in a way I'd only ever heard directed at me.

"Do I?" Sophia's reply was playful, teasing. "Maybe you should show me again."

My heart stuttered. I pushed the door open just enough to see inside, praying I was misinterpreting, that this was some innocent work conversation.

But there they were, behind his desk. Jake's hands tangled in Sophia's dark hair, her body pressed against his, their lips locked in a passionate embrace that spoke of familiarity, of a relationship well beyond its beginning stages. His suit jacket was draped over his chair, her blouse partially unbuttoned. On his desk, I could see the framed photo of us from our trip to Catalina Island last summer, now turned face-down.

The roses slipped from my grasp, but I caught them before they hit the floor. Neither of them noticed me—they were too consumed with each other. I backed away silently, my mind struggling to process what my eyes had just witnessed.

Somehow, I made it to the elevator. Somehow, I pressed the button for the parking garage. Somehow, I walked to my car on legs that felt disconnected from my body.

Only when I was safely inside, doors locked, did the trembling begin. It started in my hands, spreading through my body until I was shaking uncontrollably. The tears came next, hot and silent, streaming down my face as I gripped the steering wheel.

How long had it been going on? Weeks? Months? Had I been blind, or just willfully ignorant? The signs had been there—the late nights, the canceled plans, the way he'd grown distant when we talked about our future. But I'd attributed it all to his ambition, his drive to succeed at Blackstone.

My phone buzzed with a text. Jake.

*Still stuck at the office, babe. Henderson campaign is a mess. Rain check on dinner? Love you.*

I stared at the screen, a strange calm settling over me as the tears continued to fall. He was lying to me so effortlessly. How many other lies had I believed?

My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I could confront him now. I could storm back upstairs and catch them in the act. I could scream and cry and demand explanations.

But something inside me—something cold and clear and surprisingly steady—made a different decision.

*Okay, stay safe. Love you too.*

I sent the text, then placed my phone on the passenger seat beside the roses that were meant for him. As I started the car, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror again. My eyes were red, my makeup smeared, but behind the pain, I saw something else emerging—a hardness, a resolve I hadn't known I possessed.

Jake and Sophia thought they were so clever, so discreet. They had no idea what was coming.

Neither did I, yet. But as I drove away from Blackstone Entertainment that night, one thing became crystal clear: this wouldn't end with tears and broken promises. This would end on my terms.

And they would regret ever underestimating Maya Chen.