The next moment, Andrea deliberately unclipped her badge and held it to me.

"Lisa, I've always felt like this position doesn't really belong to me. The vice president role suits you far better."

I knew she was just putting on a show, looking for a chance to humiliate me.

I wasn't about to play along. I reached out and took the badge.

"You're too nice. Thanks."

Andrea stiffened, her fingers tightening around one corner. I gave it a couple of tugs, but she wouldn't let go.

We were locked in that awkward struggle when her ear flicked. Hearing footsteps approaching, she released it instantly.

In the same breath, she snatched the glass of water off the desk, dumped it over her own head, and collapsed to the floor. Tears welled up as she looked at me helplessly.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Woolery. If you want the vice president position, I'll give it back. Why did you splash water on me?"

The acting was painfully obvious. And yet, Quinton fell for it every single time.

He didn't ask a single question. He shoved me aside and rushed to help Andrea up.

"Lisa, have you lost your mind? Andrea is an exceptional talent! What's wrong with making her vice president? And you picked on her in front of everyone? What will outsiders think of us? Apologize to her, now!"

My lower back slammed into the corner of the desk. The sharp pain drained the color from my face.

Exceptional talent, huh?

A year ago, Quinton had returned to his alma mater as a guest speaker.

Andrea had shamelessly texted him on social media afterward, claiming she had audited a few classes and counted as his junior.

He called her driven. He said that her family was poor, that she couldn't afford proper schooling, and that it wouldn't be fair to judge her education.

What he conveniently forgot was that I had also come from nothing. I clawed my way out of the mountains through studying, and only met him in college.

Before I could say a word, the room erupted. Voices piled on top of each other, all insisting I had been targeting Andrea.

Andrea sniffed quietly, her voice weak and trembling.

"Quinton, I know Lisa is upset because she doesn't want to go to Northreach. As long as she's willing to go there and help the company grow, I don't mind being picked on a little…"

Quinton sighed heavily.

"You're too soft-hearted. Lisa is only jealous of how young and capable you are."

He turned to me, his gaze icy.

"Apologize to Andrea, and make sure you mean it. Then I'll allow you to come back within a year. Otherwise, you can spend the rest of your life eating sand in Northreach."

He had forgotten how he used to cradle my face when we studied management together, praising me for being sharp and capable.

He had forgotten how I had given up my own promotion and handed him the CEO seat, how he cried as he promised to treat me well.

He always said the company needed fresh blood. So he took my accomplishments and handed them to Andrea, calling it an investment in loyalty.

Back then, I kept lying to myself, telling myself he was just ambitious.

Only now did I finally see the favoritism for what it was.

I smiled faintly, tore off my employee badge, and said calmly, "You're right. I pick on the weak, fear the powerful, and lack professional integrity. I'm clearly unfit to stay here. Whoever wants to go eat sand in Northreach's desert is welcome to do so."

With that, I picked up my cardboard box and walked out.

Behind me, Quinton snapped back to himself and barked, "Stop! I need to check what confidential materials you're taking!"

I was about to explain when he reached out, grabbed the entire box from my arms, and dumped its contents straight into the shredder.

"Everything here belongs to the company. You have no right to take anything with you. If you're leaving, then leave empty-handed."

He wanted to force me to lower my head.

What he forgot was that I had never been his subordinate.

And so, I had no intention of telling him that what he had just destroyed was the investment proposal that could have saved the company.

Back then, Andrea had miscalculated the units in a contract, costing the company more than 20 million dollars. Even after I convinced the other party to cut the penalty in half, the company's cash flow still collapsed into crisis.

After endless negotiations, I finally locked down an investment of more than 20 million dollars, just enough to drag the company back from the edge.

Quinton had no idea that, minutes earlier, he had tossed away the company's last lifeline, along with his own future.

Once I left the office, I called the investor and kept my tone as courteous as possible.

"I'm sorry about the inconvenience, Mr. Snyder. There's an issue with the company seal, so the contract needs to be voided for now. When would you be available to re-sign?"

Scott Snyder was a titan in the industry, someone who rarely showed his face in public. If I hadn't once saved his life during a heart attack, our paths probably never would've crossed.

To my surprise, the old man sounded genuinely puzzled.

"I thought you were being transferred to Northreach. I saw your company's announcement. It said all of your accounts are being handed over to a young woman, Ms. Roffe or something."

I went still.

In that instant, I knew Quinton had gone behind my back.

I steadied myself and forced a light laugh. "That must be an internal mix-up. I'm staying put and continuing to handle your account. Even if I ever did take a trip to Northreach to relax, I'd let you know well in advance."

Scott chuckled. "Alright, then. I'm free tomorrow."

After ending the call, I swallowed my anger and unlocked my phone, only to be hit by a flood of messages.

Clients were asking why I was being sent to Northreach and when I planned to return.

When I opened the screenshots they sent, it became clear that Quinton had posted on social media, announcing my transfer and instructing everyone to contact the newly appointed vice president, Andrea.

I hadn't seen the post at all. He had clearly hidden it from me.

Without hesitating, I made my own post.

I attached a screenshot of Quinton's announcement with a massive "FAKE" stamped across it.

The caption read, [I'm still here. Please don't be misled. For business matters, feel free to contact me directly!]

I was replying to clients one by one, my fingers shaking with exhaustion, when Quinton's call came through. His voice was clipped and irritated.

"Lisa, take that post down immediately. Do you have any idea how many people are calling Andrea a fraud and unfollowing her? She's crying right now.

"You're leaving anyway, so what's the point of clinging to these clients? She came from nothing and didn't have it easy. If you had even a shred of decency, you wouldn't do this to her. Delete the post now, or I'll officially terminate you. Don't come crying to me then."

The way he shielded Andrea almost made me laugh.

"Andrea's had a hard road. So have I. Who hasn't? I built these relationships by grinding day and night, entertaining clients, doing their laundry, cooking meals, driving their kids around, and even helping them sort out family messes. And now you expect me to just hand everything over to Andrea? Not a chance."

Quinton stalled, unable to refute it. He finally replied in a cold, official tone, "If you refuse to comply with company restructuring, then we do not need an employee with zero team spirit."

He was trying to strong-arm me again.

This time, I answered calmly, "Perfect. Go ahead and fire me."

I ended the call, stopped by a nearby print shop to print the divorce papers, and headed home.

What I didn't expect was the sharp, spicy scent that hit me the moment I reached the door, like chili peppers burning in the air.

I pushed the door open.

At a glance, I saw Andrea in the kitchen, slipping off Quinton's apron while playfully poking his side.

Quinton stood there holding a spatula, laughing like he hadn't a care in the world.

Hearing the sound, they both turned.

Quinton immediately pushed Andrea aside and hurried over to me.

For once, he took off my coat and hung it for me.

"Why are you home so late?"

I shoved Quinton away and said dryly, "Wow. Guess I came home at a bad time."

Andrea smiled right on cue.

"No, you're not interrupting anything. I just stopped by to help Quinton out. Please don't get the wrong idea."

In the entire company, Andrea was the only person who knew that Quinton and I were married.

He shared everything with her without hesitation. And yet, this was the first time I had learned he even knew how to cook.

For seven years, the kitchen had always been my domain.

He knew perfectly well that after I damaged my stomach from endless business dinners, even the smell of hot oil made me nauseous. Still, he would act sweet and say he loved my cooking, and I would go along with it, making three meals a day.

It never once crossed my mind that he could cook at all, let alone cook this well.

Andrea, fully aware of my stomach condition, spoke with exaggerated concern, "These peppers are from my hometown. They're really spicy. Why aren't you sitting down to eat? Are you avoiding it because you don't like me?"

I didn't move or even look at her. My eyes stayed on Quinton.

"Stop beating around the bush. Just say what you want," I said.

Quinton finished washing his hands, reached into his pocket, and placed a train ticket into my palm.

"About the post earlier, that was on me. I shouldn't have reassigned your clients to Andrea without asking. She said she wants to build things on her own."

He paused, then continued, "Tonight's dinner is a send-off. I booked you a ticket for tomorrow night. Once you're back, we'll go public. I'll make sure the whole country hears about it."

Before I could respond, Andrea lifted her glass toward me.

"Lisa, thank you for letting me use your room. I'll make sure the house is well taken care of."

Quinton quickly added, a hint of unease in his voice, "Andrea's apartment lease just ended. Your room was empty anyway, so it made sense for her to stay there temporarily."

I worked late so often, and Quinton claimed he found it hard to sleep when we shared a bed, so I volunteered to move into the guest room.

Over time, the guest room simply became my room.

I had been to Andrea's place before. It was a two-bedroom apartment, about 650 square feet.

Back then, Quinton and I had squeezed into a windowless basement. The space was so cramped that we could barely stretch out, yet we endured it together.

Love, it seemed, always came with a sense of owing something. To make room for her, he didn't want me staying even a moment longer.

The ticket showed that it was a 43-hour trip on a hard seat. He hadn't spared a single thought for whether I would survive the trip.

I tore it in half and looked at him coolly.

"Are you incapable of understanding plain English? I already resigned. I'm not going to Northreach."

Andrea acted as if she hadn't heard me. She turned, disappeared into the bedroom, and reemerged dragging a suitcase nearly as tall as her waist.

"Lisa, I've already packed your things. If you need anything once you're there, just tell me. I'll prepare it for you."

Quinton's expression softened. He draped an arm around my shoulders and said gently, "Come on. You know I'd never really let you suffer. Just stay in Northreach for a couple of days. I'll find an excuse to bring you back."

That was always his pattern. Hurt first and soothe later.

I used to give in for love. Now, I just felt exhausted.

I played along, took the suitcase, and unzipped it.

Inside lay a shredded down jacket, feathers spilling across the floor.

Exactly as I had expected.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

"So this is what you packed for me?"

Quinton looked momentarily startled, but still rushed to her defense.

"She didn't mean it. It's already kind of her to help at all. You can teach her slowly. Why are you being so hard on her?"

I almost laughed out loud. Andrea was 29, just a year younger than me. Why did he make it sound like she was still a kid?

Andrea's eyes filled instantly. She bowed and apologized in a trembling voice.

"I'm really sorry. I did too much farm work growing up, so my hands are rough. I ruined your clothes. How much was it? I'll pay you back, okay?"