Jane's POV

I walked back to the parking lot and Robert’s eyes locked onto me.

For the first time in our entire working relationship, I saw something flicker in his gaze—appraisal, maybe even approval—but then it was gone, replaced by his usual contempt.

He looked me up and down once more, his expression bordering on disapproval.

“You look less than a clown,” he muttered, making me flinch. “We’re going to meet dignitaries, and they’ll want to ask you questions about the business sector. Don’t embarrass me with your stupidity, Jane. If you do, I’ll make sure I lock you up for the rest of your miserable life. Understand?”

We got to the venue and immediately I stepped inside the hall, my stomach churned with excitement and dread.

The gala was a billionaire’s affair—dignitaries, investors, and tech moguls mingling, all with one goal: to secure lucrative deals and expand their empires.

It should have been my moment—my opportunity to shine.

My company, Thorne Tech, was supposed to be at this event, showcasing our cutting-edge innovations.

But Kelvin and Daphne had crushed that dream beneath their heels, and now, here I was, reduced to a mere assistant at Robert’s side.

I took a deep breath, trying to focus on the present. And then I heard it—Robert's voice, booming across the room as he introduced someone.

“A foreign investor, Mr. Gianni Berardi,” Robert said, and I couldn’t help but listen as his deep voice sliced through the air. He was shaking hands with a tall man, his accent thick and his English faltering.

"Mr. Berardi is here to discuss a potential collaboration with Smith Group," Robert continued, his tone almost too rehearsed. I could see the slight discomfort in his posture, the tight smile on his face as he fumbled with the words.

I couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. Robert, always so sure of himself, was clearly struggling to communicate with this Italian investor.

The language barrier between them was painfully obvious. Robert’s attempts to engage in conversation were met with confusion, and the silence between them grew awkward by the second.

I stood off to the side, my arms folded across my chest, enjoying the scene unfold before me.

Robert, the ever-confident billionaire, was stumbling over his words, and it was a sight I couldn't tear my eyes from. For once, the man who thought he was untouchable was struggling.

But I didn’t speak. I let him flounder. He had always made me feel small, belittling me at every turn, making me doubt my worth.

It felt good to watch him squirm for once, knowing that he couldn’t control the situation.

Then, as if the universe had a wicked sense of timing, Robert snapped his fingers, suddenly remembering something.

"Wait—Jane!" he barked, his voice sharp. "You speak multiple languages, don’t you?" His gaze locked onto me. "Mr. Berardi is a potential client, and he's been asking about our latest products. He wants us to blow his mind with something new—something that's never been seen or heard before."

I blinked, surprised by the sudden turn of events. I had no idea what Robert had in mind, but I knew one thing—I couldn’t let this opportunity slip through my fingers. Not when my future could be at stake.

He continued, his voice low, "You’ve been sitting here listening. Why don’t you handle it? You’ve been in meetings about this product, tell him everything about the new product we are working on”

For a split second, I hesitated. My mind raced. This was my chance—my chance to show Robert what I was truly capable of.

But on the other hand, If I could win over this investor, if I could pitch something incredible, it would be my way back to the top.

I didn’t need Robert’s approval anymore—I just needed one break, one person to believe in me.

I took a deep breath and smiled. "Of course, Mr. Smith. I’ll handle it."

Robert didn’t seem to care much about my confidence. In fact, he was already distracted by something else, and as he turned away, he whispered in my ear,

"Don’t mess this up, Jane. If you screw this up, I’ll make sure you regret it."

Jane's POV

Robert’s breath was hot against my skin, and I suppressed a shiver. There was something dark in his eyes, something that made my blood run cold.

But I pushed it aside. I had no time to dwell on his threats. This was my moment.

I turned to Mr. Berardi, who was still waiting, his hands clasped behind his back.

He was looking at me expectantly. I could feel the weight of his gaze and I knew that I had to impress him. Not just for Robert, but for myself.

"Mr. Berardi," I said, trying to sound confident. "I know you’re looking for something fresh in tech. I have an idea that could change the way people connect online."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly interested. "Go on."

"Picture this," I continued, "a platform where companies and startups can share ideas and work together in real-time, without all the usual delays. It's a place where anyone can post projects, and the right people with the right skills can join and collaborate instantly."

He raised an eyebrow again. "So, like a marketplace for ideas?"

"Exactly," I nodded. "But it’s more than that. It’s a place where people can create, share, and even patent new tech products on the spot—no red tape, no waiting."

Mr. Berardi smiled, his eyes twinkling with approval. "You have my attention, Miss Jane. I would like to explore this further. Here," he handed me his business card, "contact me. I think we could do something extraordinary together."

I took the card, my heart racing. This was it. This could be my big break—the opportunity I had been waiting for.

I didn't want to take chances, so I quickly punched his contact information into my phone.

I could schedule a meeting with Mr Berardi, call in sick on the day of the meeting without informing Robert and travel with Mr Berardi to Italy and start a new life there.

But then, my eyes wandered across the room, and I saw them.

Kelvin and Daphne.

Standing together, laughing, sharing a private joke. The sight of them made my blood boil, but it was the way they were looking at each other that sent a chill down my spine.

I turned quickly, almost running into a waiter carrying a glass of champagne. I mumbled an apology, my heart pounding in my chest as I couldn't bear to see them together.

I fled to the bathroom, locking myself inside a stall. My body trembled with sobs as I retched into the toilet, vomiting everything I had eaten earlier.

The bile rose in my throat as the memories came flooding back—Kelvin’s betrayal, Daphne’s lies, the way they had ruined my life.

I wiped my tears away, took a deep breath, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. This was it.

This was my moment to reclaim everything I had lost. It starts now.

I took a few more steadying breaths before I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. My hands shook slightly as I unlocked the screen.

I blinked in shock when I saw the notifications. Over thirty missed calls from Mr Robert.

And then, I saw the room number he had sent to me followed by a short message.

[ We are spending the night here, I'm too drunk to leave, and It's past midnight! Get here now!]

But just as I was about to gather myself, ready to leave and face Robert, I heard a commotion outside the bathroom.

A woman's face echoed through the hallway frantically. “Mr Berardi! Someone call for help! He's collapsed— he can't breathe”

I froze, my heart skipping a bit, what the hell was going on?

I pushed open the bathroom door and a nurse rushed past me. “He's suffering from severe food poisoning and allergic reactions. We need to get him to the ICU immediately”

Mr Berardi was my only chance at getting revenge on Kelvin and Daphne, but now with his condition, it's over for me, there was no way out of this and I know very well that I didn't want to go back and continue being Robert's floor mat.

Well, I guess I'll have to move on to plan B.

Jane's POV

I pushed open the door to Robert's hotel room, and the smell hit me instantly—a mix of whiskey and expensive cologne.

I found him slumped in a chair by the window, half-empty bottle dangling from his hand, eyes glazed over, shirt unbuttoned halfway.

He was laughing to himself, low and bitter, like he was sharing an inside joke with his demons.

"You know what the funny part is?" he slurred, raising the bottle to his lips and missing. It spilled down his chin, but he didn't seem to care. "She was a model. A goddamn model. Gorgeous, perfect, every man wanted her. And she chose my best friend. My fucking best friend!”

He chuckled again, this time broken. "I gave her everything. The house, the cars, the life. And she still said I wasn’t enough. Said I was boring and too obsessed with her”

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, eyes bloodshot. "And now look at me. Hiding in hotel rooms, throwing up meetings just so I can drink myself into forgetting."

He paused, voice softening, trembling. "I hate women. They ruin everything. Pretty faces, sharp tongues, hollow promises. They're poisonous. All of them!”

I cleared my throat gently, just enough to announce my presence. "Mr. Robert... Do you need anything? Or should I find another room to stay in for the night?"

He jerked at the sound, turned to me slowly, squinting like I was a ghost. Then he laughed—a low, tipsy chuckle that made my stomach twist.

"Oh, look who it is. My ugly little assistant," he said, stumbling to his feet, nearly falling over in the process. "Always hovering. Always serious. Do you ever smile?"

I didn’t respond. He was drunk. Not himself. But then, something shifted in his eyes.

"You know what I hate the most?" he said, voice quieter now, like a confession. "The fact that I noticed you. The first damn day. You walked in with that tight bun and those oversized glasses, looking like you had something to prove. And I laughed. But then..."

He stepped closer, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. His eyes searched mine.

"Then I saw you handle my entire schedule in under twenty minutes. I saw how you watched my meetings like you were reading minds. And those ideas I always drop in the trash like they’re nothing? I use them, Jane. I use all of them."

My breath caught.

"I argue with you," he went on, "just to see your face get all serious. You chew on your pen when you're thinking. You bite your lip when you’re trying not to curse me out. You're... you're beautiful."

My heart was thudding. This couldn’t be real. He didn’t mean any of this. Not sober, anyway.

"But I can’t," he said, eyes suddenly glassy. "I won’t. Feelings make you stupid. They make you weak. I fell in love once, and she laughed in my face. I won’t be that man again. I won't."

He turned away, wiping at his eyes, and I slowly moved toward the door, overwhelmed by the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Just as my fingers touched the handle, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist.

"Don’t go," he whispered.

And before I could speak, before I could think, he pulled me toward him, his mouth crashing into mine.

It was desperate, messy, but full of a raw hunger neither of us could hide anymore.

We made love like we were both trying to forget. Or maybe trying to remember something we never had.

But when morning came, reality did too.

The sun slipped through a crack in the curtain and I sat up slowly, the sheets tangled around my legs.

Robert was still asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, oblivious to the chaos brewing inside me.

I slipped out of bed carefully, my body sore as I moved silently around the room, scanning every corner for surveillance cameras and I sighed in relief when I realised there was none.

I reached for his hand, lifted it gently, and pressed his thumb against the sensor on his phone. It unlocked instantly.

I navigated to his private banking app, my fingers steady despite the storm in my chest. The password? His ex-wife's birthday.

Once in, I moved fast. Transferred a substantial sum to an untraceable account I had set up weeks ago. I had fantasized about this moment too many times not to be prepared.

I got dressed quickly, shoving my essentials into my purse. My passport. My burner phone. Backup ID. All ready. All planned.

But just as I reached for the door, something stopped me. A very crazy last minute decision.

I turned, crossed the room again, and dug through the trash can.

My fingers found it—the used condom from last night. I wrapped it carefully in tissue and shoved it deep into my purse, my hands trembling.

I bolted from the room, my heels clicking against the marble floors of the hallway.

Outside, I quickly flagged down a taxi with a wave of my arm and slid into the back seat, adrenaline flooding my veins.

"Airport," I told the driver, my voice steady. "Fast as you can."