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.”

Juan’s brow furrowed, but before he could press further, the door suddenly burst open.

Ashley appeared—her hair disheveled, her slip dress torn, revealing a glimpse of her body. Her eyes were red and filled with tears, making her look pitiful.

“Juan, save me!” she screamed. “Someone’s trying to rape me!”

She collapsed into Juan’s arms, trembling and feverish.

“My water was drugged. If I hadn’t stabbed myself, I wouldn’t have been able to face you again!”

Juan then noticed the shallow cut on Ashley’s palm. Blood flowed and his expression darkened with rage.

“What are you all standing there for? Go catch them!”

Juan immediately tore off his shirt, cut pieces of white cloth with scissors and wrapped them around Ashley’s wound.

Susan still remembered that shirt. It was the one Juan had worn at their wedding—a limited edition, high-end model she had purchased after traveling through countless countries. He’d said he would cherish it. Now, he had destroyed it with his own hands.

Susan lowered her eyes, hiding the glint of mockery within them. The alleged culprit was dragged in by the bodyguards and thrown at Ashley’s feet.

Ashley screamed in fear. “It’s him! It’s him! He almost ruined my innocence!”

The man was doused with a bucket of ice water, snapping him out of his drunken state. After realizing what had happened, he collapsed, pale and horrified.

“I—I’m innocent, Mr. Parkston! I was drugged and I lost control of myself. It was this bottle of liquor. After I drank it…”

Suddenly, he straightened up and pointed at Susan, “It was her! It was this woman who drugged Miss Tisdale and me—and had someone lock us in the same room. She did all this on purpose!”

At that moment, Juan trembled, his hawk-like gaze narrowing on Susan. Her stomach churned and she remained slumped on the floor, stunned.

Looking up, she met Ashley’s half-smile—sinister and cold—and instantly understood everything.

This was another trap.

In fact, there were many details that pointed to Susan’s innocence. But Juan didn’t believe her.

So, no matter what she said, it was a capital crime.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” Juan looked down at her, his voice laced with disappointment. “Susan, you’re a stranger to me right now.”

“To avoid divorcing me, you’ve resorted to such disgusting tactics. Have you ever considered how Ashley will cope after you’ve ruined her innocence?”

Susan was drenched in cold sweat from the pain. She had no strength to argue. She closed her eyes, exhausted.

“Whatever you think,” she said in a low voice.

Juan flung everything off the table with a deafening crash. His eyes blazed with terrifying rage.

“Well, even after all this, you still don’t repent. In that case, let’s give her a taste of her own medicine! Come on—pour all this liquor into her stomach!”

Susan froze, staring at Juan in disbelief, almost questioning her own sanity. She had already bled from her stomach. To vent his anger over Ashley, he actually tried to force more laced liquor into her body?

“No,” Susan rasped, shaking her head. “Juan, I’ll die…”

Susan’s mouth was pried open. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t stop the burning liquor from flooding into her stomach. She spat blood against the wall before collapsing into unconsciousness. Her last sight was Juan’s retreating back, walking away without the slightest hesitation.

Susan couldn’t help but smile in despair and wondered in silence, Juan, do you really love me? If you do, would you truly be willing to treat me like this?