Over the long weekend, my boyfriend Jaxon Pierce's assistant, Kendra Nash, livestreamed her lavish beach party in the Hamptons on Instagram.

In the video, Jaxon was slowly, carefully rubbing sunscreen onto her back.

On his arm, the couple's tattoo I'd designed for us had been artfully altered to incorporate a 'K' for Kendra.

Just this morning, I had given him my latest design portfolio, hoping it would be the final push for him to take our relationship public.

He snatched the portfolio, then kicked the chair beside me, sending it crashing to the floor and taking my laptop with it.

His face was a mask of contempt, his voice dripping with ice. "Take a good look at yourself. You're a nobody. A classless orphan. And you've done nothing but try to ruin me!"

For the past five years, I had silently endured his bullshit excuse that an "office romance would tarnish his professional image." But now, standing there, I was struck by the sheer absurdity of it all.

In that moment, the illusion shattered. I texted my father.

"Dad, I lost. I'm ready to come home."

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1

As soon as I confirmed the tattoo in the livestream was an altered version of my design, I posted a message in our company's Slack channel.

"Wishing Mr. Pierce and Ms. Nash a wonderful time in the Hamptons, and all the best for your bright future together."

A few minutes later, Kendra explained that it was just a joke between friends.

Jaxon, who had been MIA all day, finally called.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? Posting shit like that in the company channel? What's wrong with you, attacking her like that? Why are you so damn jealous? Can't you go five minutes without needing all my attention?"

Before I could reply, Jaxon added contemptuously, "What are you good for besides causing trouble? Go crawl back into your corner."

Even though I had braced myself, his venomous words were like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart.

It was disgusting. Bile rose in my throat.

I couldn't stop trembling at the thought that just this morning, I had been begging him to go public with our relationship.

"Forget it, Jaxy. It's my fault. I'll go talk to Scarlett and clear things up!"

"No! You're not going anywhere!" Jaxon snapped. Though his voice was furious, he couldn't hide the undercurrent of concern. "How are you going to get a ride this late?"

He turned his anger back to me. "You listen to me, Scarlett Sinclair. There’s a limit to this madness! You think I can't handle you?"

Before I could get a single word in, I heard Kendra's theatrical sobs on the other end.

"Jaxy, I don't care if I have to swim there, I'm coming over right now. You can't stop me. I won't let anyone spread rumors about you!" Kendra declared.

"Why are you bothering with that psycho? I’m firing her. Right now!" Jaxon replied. "Kendra, you just stay put and rest. As long as I'm director, no one gets to bully you."

With that, he hung up on me without a second thought.

Less than five seconds after the call ended, I texted him, "I'm done. We're over."

He didn't reply.

Not that I was surprised. Unless he needed something from me, he had me on mute.

More than two hours later, my bags were packed.

Everything in this Brooklyn apartment, from the modest coffee machine to the sprawling art wall in the living room, had been personally chosen and arranged by me.

I even had a surprise for him—a penthouse I'd been eyeing, ready to buy and sign over in his name.

Now, a wave of relief washed over me that I'd kept that secret.

Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Kendra.

"Don't worry, Scarlett. Jaxy and I are innocent. I've always seen him as a big brother, maybe even a father figure. I've never had any inappropriate thoughts about him."

As if to prove her point, she sent two videos. The first showed Jaxon mixing her a cocktail by the pool. The second showed him carrying her, bridal-style, to her bedroom.

Before, I never would have dared to respond to such a blatant provocation. I was always the one to back down, to crawl back and beg for Jaxon's good graces.

Five years had drained me of the reckless, youthful passion that made me chase him in the first place.

Looking at it now, my silent endurance had been utterly pointless.

"Are you sick? Sending me this to piss me off? Or are you hoping I’ll blow up your phone so you can shove the vibrating thing somewhere fun for a cheap thrill?"

The typing indicator bubble popped up instantly.

I could just picture her shaking with rage. Then I deleted her number and blocked her without a second thought.

I didn't sleep a wink that night. I stayed up until dawn, then sent the text to my dad.

"Dad, I lost. I'm ready to come home."

Dad’s reply was just a single, beaming emoji, followed immediately by a call. "Sweetheart, are you sure? You're not pulling my leg, are you?"

"No, I'm not," I answered, my laugh laced with self-deprecation.

Dad laughed, a booming, joyous sound. "That's my girl! I'll have my lawyers buy out his pathetic little company and hand it to you on a silver platter. Anyone who bullies my daughter makes an enemy of the entire Sinclair family!"

"Don't bother, Dad. I want to do this myself. Let me handle it."

Dad paused for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, have it your way. Just remember, no matter what happens, I'll always be your staunchest supporter."

After hanging up, I took a deep breath and headed for the door, ready to leave this life behind. I didn't expect to run into Jaxon and Kendra blocking my exit.

"Happy now?" Jaxon snarled, rushing in to block my path and stomping down hard on my foot. He ground his heel in, the pressure immense. Pain lanced up my leg, and I bit my lip to stifle a cry as my vision swam.

The sharp pain in my foot echoed an old wound. The day I'd met him, a hurricane had nearly swept him off his feet in ankle-deep floodwater. Trying to steady him, I had stepped on a shard of broken glass, a wound that ached with a phantom pain to this day.

Jaxon flinched, pausing for a split second, but after a quick glance over his shoulder at Kendra, whatever flicker of guilt had been in his eyes was gone.

"Apologize to Kendra," Jaxon demanded. "If it weren't for you, she wouldn't have rushed back in such a panic. She almost got into a car accident on the way here."

I glanced at Kendra, who was standing behind Jaxon, looking perfectly unharmed. I couldn't see a single scratch on her.

"That car almost took her foot off! If she wasn't okay, I swear to God, I would never forgive you!"

Jaxon continued to roar, his eyes burning with a hatred usually reserved for a mortal enemy.

"You'd better give me the apology I want, Scarlett, or else... I can have a no-name like you blacklisted from this entire industry in a heartbeat! Know your place. You think you can fight me? Don't be a fool."

Kendra wrapped her arms around Jaxon's, shaking her head softly. "Jaxy, don't. She comes from nothing; she doesn't know any better. Someone like me, with my background, shouldn't stoop to her level. Let's just go."

"What did you just call me?"

My fists clenched. I fought the burning urge to slap them both. For five years, Kendra had been a fly buzzing in my ear, a constant, irritating drone in the background of my life.

"Kendra, I am so done with you."

The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the room. Jaxon's face was white with rage, his hand trembling. "I told you to apologize!" he roared.

My cheek stung, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

Kendra's lips curved into a triumphant smile.

Rage, humiliation, and a crushing sense of helplessness churned in my gut.

"Is it that hard to say you're sorry, Scarlett? You're the one in the wrong!" Jaxon bellowed. He then seized one of Kendra’s discarded stilettos and viciously slammed the heel into my knee.

"You should be on your knees thanking Kendra for her mercy! And you have the audacity to make a scene? Who the hell do you think you are?"

To think that just a few days ago, I would have been the one on my knees, crying and begging for his forgiveness.

But now, I was just done. The only thing I wanted was to get away from him as fast as possible. Even arguing felt like a waste of breath.

"You walk out that door, Scarlett, and we are done!" Jaxon roared. Seeing I wouldn't yield, a flicker of raw panic—almost imperceptible, but there—crossed his eyes.

"So be it," I replied, nodding. I limped out of the apartment, my composure a mask of ice.

What a fucking waste of five years.

Suddenly, a forceful shove from behind sent me flying down the stone steps. I threw out my right hand instinctively to break my fall.

A searing pain shot up my arm. I yanked my hand back to find a raw, bloody patch of skin had been scraped away, the flesh beneath exposed and glistening.

By the time I processed what had happened, I had already tumbled to the bottom, my head cracking against the hard pavement.

And Jaxon, my boyfriend, was anxiously shielding Kendra.

His face held no concern for me, only cold fury, as if I’d gotten what I deserved.

He dragged Kendra back inside, his final words a venomous declaration: "You brought this on yourself! Stay out here and think about what you did wrong. Don't you dare get up until you've figured it out!"

The pain stole all my strength. I lay on the pavement, a pathetic, broken heap. By the time a kind stranger found me and helped me to the hospital, I had missed the optimal window for treatment.

As a designer, my right hand was everything. Now, I had to watch as doctors inserted steel pins into it, one by one. It was shattered.

In that cold, sterile room, watching the pins go into my hand, I finally understood what it meant to lose all hope.

Three days later, Jaxon called.

He casually demanded I bring a "decent gift" to Kendra's birthday party at a SoHo rooftop bar.

His tone was so cheerful, as if nothing had happened. But the throbbing in my hand was a constant, agonizing reminder of his cruelty.

"Fine."

A decent gift...

For five years, I hadn't taken a dime from my family. I'd managed to save over a million dollars, but my surgery had wiped out nearly all of it.

Kendra wanted a 'decent' gift, did she? I wondered if her utter ruin would count.

By the time I arrived, having made my arrangements, the party was in full swing.

Jaxon stood at the entrance with his arm wrapped around Kendra, the two of them a picture-perfect couple.

The moment they saw me, their fingers intertwined.

"You actually dared to show up empty-handed?" Jaxon sneered, his face darkening. "I didn't know you were this shameless. Look at yourself. That old coat, the bandages... it's disgusting. You're just here to make a scene, aren't you?"

Kendra didn't bother to hide the glint of triumph in her eyes. She bit back a laugh and shook her head. "Let it go, Jaxy. It's enough that she's here. Besides, as long as I have you, I don't need any gifts."

"But... I do have a surprise for you..."

At that, Kendra's hand moved to gently stroke her abdomen. The simple gesture made my breath catch in my throat. My grip on my phone tightened.

Despite our years together, Jaxon had never been truly intimate with me. I could wear the sexiest lingerie, try every trick in the book, and he would still end the night with a cold shower.

His excuse came later. His "first time" was important, and he wouldn't "waste it on a gold digger" like me.

The colleagues around us began to cheer. Only then did I notice Jaxon's parents, Richard and Brenda Pierce, and his younger brother, Tyler, were also in attendance.

"Jaxy, this birthday wouldn't mean anything without you," Kendra murmured. "I know you're not focused on marriage right now, but I worry about you being lonely when you're older... so, I made a decision. For us."

She slowly raised her eyes to his, her gaze full of adoration.

"I'm pregnant. Just over two months. I think it's a girl. She'll be beautiful, just like you."

I froze, my mind a complete blank. My mother passed away years ago. Her death anniversary was two months ago. Jaxon had stayed by my side the whole time, a pillar of support while I grieved.

Or so I thought. Apparently, he was comforting me by day and sleeping with Kendra by night.

What I had mistaken for genuine care was nothing but guilt.

Richard and Brenda were the first to burst into applause.

Some guests started whispering. Jaxon was famously ruthless about his no office romance policy, even suing an employee who tried to hide a relationship.

But now, he just patted Kendra's back reassuringly. "Since it's come to this, Scarlett's fired. She's the one who seduced me in the first place, shamelessly latching onto me and begging to be my girlfriend. A woman like that is a disgrace to this company."

Instantly, all eyes were on me, a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. I was a spectacle: the woman who had been so publicly, so thoroughly cheated on.

"Are you finished?"

To everyone's surprise, I just smiled faintly.

"Then I suppose it's time for my gift."

With a subtle lift of my hand, my family's lawyer, Arthur Croft, strode into the party, flanked by two NYPD officers. The lead officer gave me a respectful nod. "Miss Sinclair."