The video had captured the entire incident in crystal-clear detail.

Millie still wore a smile, but it was bone-chillingly cold, laced with undisguised mockery. "She keeps pinning one thing after another on me, and I'm not about to play along with her little act. I don't remember my sister ever being so eager to shift blame."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

"If you're going to find a replacement for Carrie, you could at least set the bar a little higher."

Greg and Judith's faces darkened, their expressions so stormy they could have wrung water from the air.

Clint lowered his gaze in silence, a storm of emotions churning behind his eyes. Anger, yes, but also a thread of irritation he couldn't quite name.

The old Millie had always bent over backward to please her parents, to please him. What had changed?

Before the thought could fully form, Lucille burst into tears again.

Millie watched it happen. The three people who had just worn such varied expressions instantly softened in unison at the sound of that single sob, crowding around Lucille, falling over themselves to comfort her in gentle voices.

The divide was stark. Millie stood on the other side of it, the only outsider.

Her heart clenched again, every breath dragging a dull ache through her chest.

She kept smiling, as if steeling herself for something.

"Since none of you seem to mind the substitution, why not just have Lucille change her last name to Sullivan and marry Clint herself? Wouldn't that make everyone happy?"

She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

"You ungrateful brat! We say a few words to you and you dare threaten us?"

"If you've got the nerve, drop the Sullivan name! If you've got the nerve, walk out that door and never come back!"

The insults chased her like shadows. Millie pressed her hands over her ears and walked faster.

Eventually she broke into a run.

She didn't stop until her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the ground.

Maybe this is for the best. At least now she could leave with nothing holding her back.

With no home left to return to, Millie stayed at a hotel.

She planned to go back to the office and finish her resignation paperwork.

But Clint never showed up. Lucille had vanished too.

Word was they'd gone on a business trip together.

Officially, it was to meet with a client about a partnership. But Lucille's social media told a far more colorful story.

Strolling through streets. Candlelit dinners. Between every overwrought caption, she broadcast Clint's blatant favoritism for all the world to see.

Colleagues cast complicated glances Millie's way. She pretended not to notice and kept working through what was left on her desk.

Even though Clint hadn't signed off yet, she dutifully found someone to hand her responsibilities over to. A clean break, as amicable as she could make it.

Only three days remained. Millie packed up her personal belongings and had just stepped out of her office when—

Slam.

A file hit the floor at her feet.

Clint's face was thunderous, his voice barely containing his fury. "Millie Sullivan, did you leave your brain overseas? You got core data wrong. Are you trying to drag the entire company down with you?"

Millie blinked, then bent to pick up the file.

One glance was all it took. Her brow furrowed.

This wasn't the version she'd signed off on.

She looked up, her tone level. "This data has been tampered with."

"And now you want to dodge responsibility? You have the guts to do it but not to own it?" Clint stared at her with open disappointment.

Lucille spoke up as if summoning her courage. "Miss Sullivan, do you have any idea how much the company stands to lose because of one altered figure?"

A colleague nearby couldn't hold back. "Mr. Gilbert, the data Director Sullivan verified at the time was correct—"

"Shut up." Clint cut them off, his tone razor-sharp. "You're one of hers. Of course you'd cover for her."

Millie looked at him, and something close to a laugh stirred in her chest.

From Lucille's schemes to company matters, every single time a problem surfaced, Clint convicted her without a shred of evidence.

All those years by his side, and he wouldn't grant her even a sliver of trust?

She drew a slow breath, still holding her patience together. "Fine. Let's say people can lie. But the system logs don't. One look at the workflow records—"

Lucille jumped in immediately. "The cloud drive just crashed. The tech team is working on it, but all recent files are gone."

What impeccable timing for a crash.

The warmth drained from Millie's eyes degree by degree. She turned her gaze on Clint, and all that remained in it was contempt.

Something tightened in his chest under that look, but he pressed on. "Fine. Everyone makes mistakes. We'll let this go for now, but don't let it happen ag—"

"That won't be necessary."

Millie reached up and unclipped her badge in one swift, decisive motion.

"Since I've already lost all credibility in your eyes, Mr. Gilbert, there's no point in me staying at this company."

She held out the resignation letter—the one that needed only his final signature to be complete.

"I quit."

The air in the room went still.

Clint stared at the thin sheet of paper, and a sudden wave of panic gripped his chest. Something was slipping out of his control, and the feeling gnawed at him without reason.

This company had consumed so much of Millie's effort. Years of her blood and sweat poured into every corner of it.

Could she really bear to walk away?

"Millie, what kind of stunt are you pulling now?" He frowned. "First you threaten me with calling off the engagement, and now you're threatening me with your resignation?"

Lucille stamped her foot beside him. "Miss Sullivan knows perfectly well the company can't function without her. Is this some kind of power play?"

Clint's expression turned cold, as though her words had flipped a switch. He let out a derisive laugh.

"Fine, Millie. You've really grown bold."

He snatched the resignation letter from her hands. Without so much as reading it, he scrawled his signature across the bottom.

"You want to leave? Then leave. Don't come crawling back, because even if you beg, I might not take you back!"

The moment the pen hit the paper, the last flicker of anything Millie still felt for him went dark.

She pulled out her phone. Right there, in front of everyone, she dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Mr. Qian, it's me. Millie Sullivan."

The other end picked up quickly, the tone polite. "Director Sullivan, about the contract, we were just about to—"

"The contract is off the table." Her voice was perfectly level. "The data was compromised. The partnership is canceled."

The conference room plunged into dead silence.

Clint's face drained of color. "Millie, what the hell are you doing?!"

Millie didn't so much as glance at him.

The voice on the other end faltered. "Director Sullivan, this—"

"Also," she added, her tone unhurried, "I've resigned from Gilbert Group. This project is no longer my concern."

She hung up.

"Millie!" Clint lost all composure, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. "Do you have any idea what this project is worth? You're treating a company partnership like a joke?!"

Millie looked at him, her gaze ice-cold.

"I was cutting the company's losses."

She paused, and the faintest trace of mockery curved her lips.

"After all, you can't even tell the difference between what's real and what's fake."

Clint's expression froze.

"And I have never once threatened you." Her voice didn't waver. "The resignation is real. Calling off the engagement is real."

She turned on her heel and walked out without a backward glance.

Her start date at the new company was just two days away.

She threw herself into her final goodbyes. Colleagues she'd grown close to, friends she'd be leaving behind—one farewell dinner after another. Words of reluctance and affection filled her ears, slowly washing away the exhaustion and grievances she'd carried for so long.

She never expected that before leaving the country, she'd cross paths with Clint one last time.

She had stepped out to get some air after a few drinks when Clint and Lucille emerged from around a corner.

Lucille's lips were flushed, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

What had just happened between them needed no explanation.

Lucille slipped back into the private room first. Clint seemed to be deliberately staggering his exit, but the moment he looked up, he saw Millie. A flash of shock and guilt crossed his face.

Millie took it all in. She simply gave a calm nod and moved to walk past him.

That nameless unease seized Clint's chest again.

How could Millie act as though none of this mattered?

The memory of how he'd treated her these past few days surfaced, and a thread of guilt flickered in his eyes—so faint he didn't even notice it himself.

He was about to reach for her hand when Lucille came stumbling toward them.

Her hands were covered in blood. Her face was white as chalk.

"Mr. Gilbert, I've done something terrible. I think I killed Mr. Neal."

Every muscle in Clint's body went rigid. Millie was instantly forgotten. His voice shook. "What happened?!"

"Mr. Neal kept forcing me to drink, and then he tried to grope me..." Lucille sobbed, tears streaming down her face like rain on blossoms. "I grabbed a bottle and hit him over the head. He collapsed, and there was blood everywhere..."

Between her broken sobs, Clint pulled her into his arms, his heart aching. "Don't be scared, Lucy. I'll handle it. That old creep Myron Neal had it coming. This is my fault—I never should have let you go in there alone..."

Lucille cried harder. "Mr. Gilbert, I can't go to prison. I'm so scared..."

Millie's brow furrowed, but she said nothing. She turned and walked away.

The next morning, when she woke up in her hotel room, her parents were standing at the door.

There were no pleasantries. Greg's voice was an order that left no room for argument. "You're going to take the blame for Lucille."

Millie's head snapped up. She was sure she'd misheard. "What did you just say?!"

Judith cut in, her tone sharp with impatience. "That Mr. Neal is still unconscious. His family is threatening to call the police."

"I'm not doing it."

She had long since stopped hoping for her parents' love. But hearing them demand she take the fall—her eyes still burned, reddening against her will.

Crack.

Judith's palm connected with her face.

"If you'd had any ability at all—if you could have held on to Clint—would things have gotten this bad? Honestly, I wish Lucille were our daughter instead. She's more like Carrie than you ever were. She's better at keeping Clint happy than you could ever dream of being."

"You're going today whether you like it or not."

Millie barely had time to register the danger before a sharp pain exploded at the back of her neck.

The last thing she heard, as consciousness slipped away, was her parents' relieved murmuring. "Lucille is just like Carrie. How could we let her suffer..."

The iron door slammed shut with a cold, metallic clang that pierced her eardrums.

The stench of sweat, mildew, and disinfectant mingled in the air, so thick it burned the inside of her nose.

Millie curled up on the freezing slab of a bed, the officer's words still ringing in her ears.

"Millie Sullivan, you are under formal arrest on suspicion of aggravated assault. The evidence is conclusive."

Conclusive evidence?

Identified by her own fiancé. Delivered by her own parents. All to protect her sister's glorified lookalike. They had thrown her away without a second thought.

The other inmates jeered openly, their eyes raking over her with a cocktail of jealousy, contempt, and undisguised malice.

"Well, well. The fiancée of Gilbert Group's CEO. Guess her own family turned her in."

Water came next. Bucket after bucket, ice-cold, dumped over her head.

Millie tried to call out for the guards, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could make a sound. Then the fists came down like rain.

By evening, she was burning with fever. Her only meal had been knocked to the floor by the other women, the rice scattered across the filthy concrete.

All Millie could do was curl tighter into herself.

Her throat had gone raw hours ago. No voice left to cry out with.

No tears left to shed.

Clint finally deigned to appear the following afternoon.

"Millie!" He rushed over and pulled her into his arms. "It's over. Everything's been taken care of."

He seemed quite pleased with himself. Myron Neal, the man Lucille had struck with the bottle that night, owed Millie a favor from years back. Once he regained consciousness and confirmed there was no chance of successfully pressing charges against Lucille, he signed the settlement letter immediately.

"But if Lucille had been the one sitting in a cell, Myron might not have been so generous. Besides, she only did what she did for the sake of the job."

How laughable.

Even though she had already guessed the truth, hearing him say it out loud still drew a bitter laugh from Millie's lips.

The laughter crumbled halfway through, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Clint, the person you've always loved is my sister. Now that you've found an even better stand-in, why won't you just let me go?"

"What are you talking about? Stand-in? That's ridiculous."

He turned his face away, guilt flickering across his features. "I was just looking out for a new employee. Stop overthinking this. I'll throw you a proper engagement party in a couple of days. I promise there won't be any mix-ups this time. And if it really bothers you that much, once we're officially engaged, I'll let Lucille go. Okay?"

"Whatever."

Millie couldn't be bothered to argue anymore.

Clint mistook her silence for surrender. With exaggerated tenderness, he drove her back to the hotel.

They had barely sat down before his phone rang again.

That familiar, teary voice on the other end. Lucille's signature whimper. Clint's expression softened without him even realizing it. He murmured reassurances until the call ended, then reached for Millie's hand again, half-nervous.

"Millie, I can't wait to show the world how happy we are. Let's move the engagement party up to tomorrow. What do you say?"

"Fine."

"I'll pick you up in the morning?"

"Fine."

Millie answered with flat indifference, not bothering to call out such a transparent lie.

Lucille certainly lived up to her reputation as a walking disaster, barreling down the path of recklessness without ever slowing down.

Millie didn't ask Clint to stay. She watched in silence as his figure vanished from sight at record speed.

Off to comfort his precious darling, no doubt.

But none of that had anything to do with her anymore.

Still, the people who had framed her shouldn't expect to walk away unscathed.

In the back of the taxi, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number with care.

"Mrs. Nora Neal? Hello. I have something I'd like to share with you... Yes, that's right. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow was going to be quite the spectacle.

Too bad she wouldn't be there to see it.

Today was her last day. She was really leaving. And now that the moment had come, Millie felt no heartbreak at all. Only relief.

The taxi pulled away toward the airport. At a certain intersection, it passed Clint's car heading in the opposite direction.

Like two lines that had briefly crossed at a single point.

From here on out, their paths led to different horizons, and there was no reason for them to meet again.