Susan let out a sigh of relief after receiving the flight booking confirmation from Frank.

Frank and she had been childhood friends, practically sharing a pair of trousers and he had harbored a crush on her for many years.

After she decided to marry Juan, Frank confessed his love and even said he wanted to elope with her.

After Susan turned him down, he moved all the family businesses abroad. She had thought they would never see each other again. But she hadn't expected...

A glint of mockery flashed in Susan's eyes as she began packing her belongings. She had spent the entire night going through her things, only to discover, somewhat comically, that the only luggage she could take with her had nothing to do with Juan.

It didn’t even fill a 24-inch suitcase.

She marked a red circle on her calendar. On the 6th of next month—22 days later—she would finally obtain her divorce certificate.

Juan’s voice suddenly rang out, “The 6th? Isn’t that the day our divorce takes effect?”

Before Susan could respond, he sneered, unable to conceal his sarcasm, “What? Are you worried I’ll make you withdraw your divorce application before the 6th?”

Susan’s face paled and she was about to deny it.

Juan hurriedly turned and walked away due to a sudden call from Ashley.

Before leaving, he managed only to remind her, “Remember to come to the office today. I have something important to announce.”

Susan had originally planned to go to the company to finalize her resignation. But to her surprise, everyone there seemed genuinely delighted to see her.

“Susan, congratulations! Now that the special assistant, Mr. Randall is leaving, it’s your turn to take over his position, right?”

“Yes, our secretariat will be relying on you to look after us.”

“You’ve been with Mr. Parkston for so many years. If not for your contributions, you've certainly worked hard. If Mr. Parkston wasn’t so used to being taken care of by you, you would’ve been promoted long ago. How could you still be where you are today?”

Susan was a little stunned. Was Juan really talking about this?

She couldn’t help but smile, then quickly waved her hand, politely insisting it was baseless.

But she knew better than anyone else that, apart from the poached Mr. Randall, she was the only one with both the qualifications and capability to handle the position of Chief Secretary.

But what a shame—she was leaving.

At the morning meeting, Susan carefully prepared an 80-degree Americano with milk for Juan, adding six ice cubes.

Juan pushed open the door and entered. Always meticulous and unerring in his appearance, he even had a red rose pinned to his high-end black suit.

“Susan, come here,” Juan said calmly, waving her over. “While everyone’s here, I have an announcement to make today.”

Colleagues close to Susan were already winking at her.

Someone joked, “Susan, don’t forget to treat us to dinner.”

Looking at Juan’s serious and determined gaze, Susan couldn’t hide her embarrassment but mustered the courage to refuse,

“Mr. Parkston, you don’t need to give the supervisor position...”

“You know?” Juan raised an eyebrow slightly, interrupting her with a hint of surprise. “I’ve decided to give the position of supervisor of the secretarial office to Ashley. She’s new and doesn’t have much experience in the business. Please mentor her for the time being.”

Almost everyone was stunned. Susan felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head.

Ashley walked in, wearing ten-centimeter high heels and clutching a large bouquet of red roses.

“Please take good care of me, everyone,” she said triumphantly.

Everyone noticed the roses—identical to the one on Juan’s chest. All the congratulatory smiles around Susan instantly turned to shock, curiosity and suspicion.

Her phone beeped. In a certain company chat room, everyone was engaged in a heated discussion.

[What’s going on? Mr. Parkston isn’t promoting Susan? Aren’t they still married?]

[You don’t know, huh? Susan earned the title Mrs. Parkston by clinging to him. She’s been chasing after Mr. Parkston since they were kids, even when he started working—insisting on being his assistant. What man could put up with that?]

[I heard Susan’s divorcing Mr. Parkston because of Ashley?]

[Do you really believe she’ll go through with it? Everyone knows she’s fought with Mr. Parkston 98 times and every time she’d end up tearfully begging him to take her back.]

[Stop talking. Look who’s in the chat room.]

All discussion came to an abrupt halt.

At that moment, Susan felt utterly exposed—like she had been stripped bare and roasted on a scorching stove. She didn’t dare look up at Juan and simply stood there stiffly, forcing herself to sound professional.

“Yes, Mr. Parkston. I understand.”

Ashley stepped forward and intimately hooked her arm around Susan’s, speaking loudly in front of everyone, “Susan, go make me some coffee.”

She smiled sweetly, her voice edged with irony, “You should remember what I like to drink, right?”

Of course Susan remembered. After all, they had once been close friends.

A sardonic smile flickered in her eyes and Susan nodded almost mechanically, “I remember.”

Ashley smiled with satisfaction. “When it’s ready, send it to Mr. Parkston’s office. I just have some work to report to Mr. Parkston.”

She had just assumed the supervisory position and didn’t even understand the business yet. What work could she possibly report?

Susan soon figured out what kind of “work” Ashley meant. From inside the room, Ashley’s unbearable moans echoed. Peeking through the door—which had been deliberately left ajar—Susan saw Juan’s intense eyes as he pressed Ashley against the large office chair, kissing her fervently.

Ashley’s high heels had creased the leather of the chair. Susan couldn’t help but recall her first days as an assistant at Parkston’s.

She plopped down into her office chair. Juan, his face dark with anger, grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet.

“Susan, don’t bring your family affairs to work. Public matters are public, private ones are private. I hope you understand your place. I’m the president of Parkston Group. This isn’t the place for you to sit.”

Susan’s eyes reddened as she smiled faintly. So this was what Juan meant by separating public and private matters?

Leaving her brewed coffee at the door, Susan went straight to the HR department to submit a printed copy of her resignation letter.

The HR representative looked stunned. “Susan, are you really resigning? Does Mr. Parkston know?”

Susan replied calmly, “He’ll find out soon.”

Susan took the expedited resignation paperwork from HR and headed to Juan for his signature.

Before she could knock, Juan had already emerged, carrying Ashley in his arms and kicked the office door open.

“Call 120! Ashley is having an allergic reaction!” he shouted impatiently, his face grim.

Susan lost her balance, stumbled back two steps and struck her lower back against the corner of the table. The sharp pain caused a cold sweat to break out on her forehead, but Juan didn’t notice.

He simply commanded her, “Take off your shoes. Give Ashley your flats.”

Juan gently removed Ashley’s sky-high heels, being careful not to hurt her. Then he casually tossed the heels at Susan. The sharp heel grazed Susan’s arm. Her face turned pale and her heart throbbed.

“Juan, I can’t wear high heels.”

Susan had once broken her ankle while saving Juan. When he suddenly fainted, she rushed to protect the back of his head from hitting the floor. In the process, her own right foot had fractured. After she woke up, Juan had bought her an entire wall of flat shoes. His eyes had been solemn.

“Don’t hurt yourself anymore.”

From then on, she wore only flats.

She had worked hard to protect herself. But now, Juan was asking her to give them away—to Ashley.

A flicker of irony crossed her eyes and Susan shook her head slightly. “You know, my ankle…”

Juan interrupted, “That happened years ago. It still hasn’t healed?”

His brow furrowed, his voice edged with impatience. “Then don’t wear any shoes yet.”

Susan froze, disbelief clouding her expression.

Juan, clearly out of patience, waved his hand. “Hurry! Ashley’s condition can’t wait.”

His bodyguards shoved Susan onto the table and forcefully removed her flats. Barefoot on the cold floor, under everyone’s strange and curious glances, Susan felt as though a boulder was pressing down on her chest, suffocating her.

She didn’t know how long she had been sitting there. When she finally stood, staggering slightly, no one was around. No one had come to help her.

Clutching her resignation letter tightly, she hobbled off to find a pair of shoes.

The sun blazed overhead. The asphalt scorched her bare feet and blisters began to form. She was just about to pay for a pair when a familiar Lincoln pulled up beside her.

The door opened and Juan’s bodyguard tossed her inside.

“Sorry, ma’am. Mr. Parkston asked us to take you to the hospital.”

In the ward, Ashley’s face was swollen and flushed red, her eyes bloodshot. Juan sat on the sofa, his expression stony as he slowly rotated the Swiss watch on his wrist.

“Susan, apologize to Ashley.”

Susan frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“Juan, don’t be like this.” Ashley let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I took Susan’s position and I also stole her husband. I was wrong. I deserve to die. She put almonds in my coffee. I deserve it.”

Suddenly, she looked up—and with a loud slap, she hit herself across the face.

“Susan, I’m just a disgusting mistress. You want me dead. I understand. But I just can’t control my heart…” She gave a bitter smile and gently shook her head. “Don’t worry. From today on, I won’t see Mr. Parkston again.”

With that, she threw back the covers and got out of bed. Her soft, pale feet stepped into the flat shoes that had once belonged to Susan.

Juan’s strong hands gently held her feet.

“Lie down peacefully.” His voice was gentle, full of tenderness.

But when he turned to Susan, only cold indifference remained. “Susan, I never intended to give you the supervisor position. With your capabilities, you’re truly unfit.”

Susan looked up in shock, her face draining of color.

“You’re certainly good at taking care of me and you’re suited to being a good wife and mother, but do you really think you can manage an entire secretarial office? So Ashley wasn’t wrong in this matter.”

“As for what happened between her and me…” Juan scoffed, eyes brimming with mockery. “She’s already apologized to you. Shouldn’t you apologize for nearly killing her?”

Susan’s body turned cold. “I didn’t do it.”

Ashley, looking wounded, teetered slightly. “Susan, the coffee cup showed a high concentration of almonds. Besides you, my best friend, who else would know about my allergy?”

“I told you, I didn’t do it.” Susan closed her eyes, emphasizing each word.

“That’s enough.” Juan had had it. He seized Ashley’s wrist and slapped Susan across the face.

Susan’s ears rang from the blow.

Juan said coldly, “Ashley, you cared about sisterhood, but she nearly killed you.”

“I’m here now, so don’t be afraid. I’ll get justice for you.”

“Hit me!”

Ashley struck Susan again. Once, twice, three times… Susan was slapped herself ten times.

Her face became swollen and red, blood trickled from the corners of her mouth and the pain numbed both her body and her heart. Those ten slaps didn’t just teach her a cruel lesson—they handed justice to Ashley. And they shattered the last remnants of love Susan held for Juan.

Three days later, at Juan’s request, Susan accompanied him to a project event.

In the car, Susan finally submitted her resignation.

But Juan didn’t even glance at it; he simply signed. Susan instinctively asked, “Don’t you want to take a look?”

“They’re just some unimportant documents you’ve been assigned to handle,” Juan replied flatly, pinching his temple. “I’m too lazy to read.”

Susan smiled and said nothing more.

When they arrived at the restaurant and sat down, Ashley plopped down beside Juan, who carefully poured her tea.

Mr. Chuck, a business partner, smiled and said, “Is this your wife? I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Juan didn’t deny it but simply gave a faint smile. Susan quietly sat in the corner, feeling insignificant—treated like a mere intern.

The middle-aged man next to her repeatedly took advantage of the situation by toasting her.

Juan seemed oblivious. He was preoccupied with shielding Ashley from drinking. “She’s allergic to alcohol and can’t drink,” he said.

Mr. Chuck looked displeased. “Mr. Parkston, since we’re sincerely discussing cooperation and Mrs. Parkston isn’t drinking a single glass—isn’t that a bit disrespectful to me?”

“If you want Mrs. Parkston to drink your glass of wine, fine.” Juan raised his eyelids and waved at Susan. “She’s my wife, Susan.”

The atmosphere at the table froze and almost everyone turned their eyes toward the corner. Juan had acknowledged her identity only to use her to shield Ashley from drinking.

But Juan had completely forgotten that Susan had given up alcohol long ago—after drinking herself into gastric bleeding earlier that year to secure a project. Mr. Chuck placed a bottle of baijiu directly in front of her.

“Mr. Parkston, I specifically asked Miss Ashley to drink with me, but you wanted to change her,” he said. “Since we’re changing, then naturally the number of glasses must change as well.”

“This bottle—half for you and half for me. Isn’t that fair?”

Susan clenched her glass tightly and instinctively glanced at Juan. She hoped he would say something—anything—in her favor.

But all she saw was Juan’s indifferent face and concerned tone, “Next time there are occasions like this, always bring Susan with you. She’s quite the drinker.”

Susan smiled sadly and downed the entire bottle of alcohol in one go. Not for any noble reason, but because she’d followed this project for two years.

There were only a dozen days left before the divorce cooling-off period ended. She wanted to wrap up the project properly before leaving.

By the end of the drink, her stomach was burning and even Susan’s breath smelled of rust and blood. But without anyone telling her to stop, she didn’t dare. She drank cup after cup, her vision spinning, until she finally couldn’t hold back and vomited violently.

Amidst the filth, a glaring red pool appeared.

Everyone panicked. “Susan, are you okay? You’ve been drinking until you vomited blood!”

Finally, Susan saw Juan’s expression change drastically. He suddenly stood up and rushed toward her.

A colleague grabbed Susan’s arm, eyes filled with helplessness.

“Susan, tell me—you're about to resign. Why are you drinking like this?”

“Resign?” Juan’s voice suddenly exploded from behind. “What do you mean by resign?”

Susan was forced to look up, meeting Juan’s dark, stormy gaze.

His face was livid. “Susan, are you resigning?”

Susan was terrified and instinctively concealed the truth. “No. He got the wrong person. It’s another assistant who’s resigning.”