My heart ached with bitterness, and I couldn’t help but feel that all my years of effort had been in vain.

Charles and I had been together for seven years.

When he said he wanted to start his own business, I gave him every penny of my savings to help him open a clothing company.

I worked tirelessly, brainstorming designs, creating clothing, and networking with models. There were days when I was so busy I didn’t even have time to eat.

Skipping meals became a habit. To keep our biggest clients happy, I often had to drink with them. Sometimes, it was to the point of throwing up, only to pick up the glass and keep drinking.

Under my efforts, Charles’ clothing factory went from a small, unknown operation to one of the most successful in the industry.

However, in the process, my stomach problems worsened, becoming almost unbearable.

I never told Charles about any of it because I didn’t want our relationship tainted with pity.

Yet, he gave all the credit to his assistant, Beverly.

“If it weren’t for Bev, I’d never have achieved this level of success.”

If all of this meant so little to him, maybe it was time to cut my losses.

When Charles came home that evening, I had just taken the medicine prescribed by the doctor.

The bitterness lingered in my mouth, but it couldn’t compare to the bitterness in my heart.

He handed me a takeout container.

“Sarah, you’re always pretending to have a stomachache, aren’t you? Well, this is Beverly’s favorite chicken noodle soup. I went out of my way to get it for you. Satisfied now?”

His so-called concern was laughable.

I didn’t reach out to take it. “I’m not eating that. Just leave it on the table.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, his face darkened, and he slammed the container onto the table.

“Sarah, this is ridiculous. Stop throwing tantrums. It’s exhausting. I’ve had a long day, and now I come home to your attitude?”

“Why can’t you learn from Bev? When I’m tired, she always knows how to comfort me. She even gives me massages.”

At the mention of Beverly, his expression lit up, and a small smile tugged at his lips. It was like he was savoring some fond memory.

I had told Charles countless times that I was allergic to chicken.

Time after time, he’d bring it home and insist I prepare dishes for him. If he ever paid attention, he’d notice I never touched them.

When I didn’t respond, Charles moved closer.

“Okay, I get it. You’re mad because I haven’t made your identity public.

“Fine. Once we wrap up this international fashion show, I’ll announce it. Happy now?”

I gave him a bitter smile and shook my head. I didn’t need that anymore.

Just as I was about to tell him how I really felt, his phone rang.

“Charles, I can’t sleep. Can you come over and keep me company?”

Charles chuckled, his mood instantly lifting.

“You silly girl. I told you not to drink so much coffee today, didn’t I? Now you can’t sleep.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there.”

He hung up and glanced at me, looking a bit awkward. In no time, he regained his composure.

“Uh, a client wants to discuss something urgent. I need to head out.”

I didn’t even look at him. I just nodded indifferently.

After he left, I took a long, hot shower. As I scrolled through my Instagram feed, a new post from Beverly popped up.

It was a video of her lying in a man’s arms.

In the background, a man’s voice could be heard singing a lullaby.

Her caption read: [Haha, Charles still treats me like a little kid. Even though I’m already twenty, he sings me to sleep.]

It was obvious at a glance that her caption was designed to show off.

I quietly liked the post, then clicked on Beverly’s profile picture. It was a cartoon character.

Charles’ profile picture, on the other hand, was a matching couple’s avatar of the same cartoon.

I had once suggested to Charles that we use matching profile pictures, too. However, he’d laughed at the idea.

“Sarah, can you not be so childish? I have zero interest in stuff like that.

“And besides, if I did something that dumb, what would my employees think?”

Now, for his assistant Beverly, he was doing all the things he once dismissed as “childish.”

I was so tired.

After thinking it over for a long time, I finally dialed Sullivan Group, which had always wanted to poach me to them.

“Mr. Sullivan, I’ve made up my mind. I’m ready to join your company.”

Garrett Sullivan, on the other end, was surprised to hear my voice.

“Miss Keenan! Are you saying you’re ready to come on board as our Chief Designer?”

I responded with a wry smile.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I just hope you don’t think I’m a burden.”

“Not at all! Our company has always admired your talent.”

Charles didn’t come home until the next morning.

When he finally showed up, he surprised me with an unusual suggestion: to take me to a long-anticipated exhibition.

“Hey, I got the tickets. Let’s go.”

In the past, I would’ve been ecstatic. Now, though, I couldn’t muster much interest.

Still, I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to learn something new, so I forced myself to agree.

When we got to Charles’ car, I instinctively reached for the front passenger door, only to be stopped by him.

“Sarah, get in the backseat. Bev doesn’t like it when someone else sits up front.”

So, I climbed into the backseat.

The front passenger seat was covered in pink cushions and adorned with a cartoon nameplate.

“Princess Bev’s Special Seat,” it wrote.

I hadn’t eaten anything before we left, and my stomach was already unsettled. To make things worse, the car reeked of Beverly’s favorite rose-scented air freshener—a smell I couldn’t stand.

I tried to ignore it, but eventually, I couldn’t help gagging.

I asked Charles to drive slower, but it only seemed to egg him on. He pressed the gas pedal harder.

Gritting my teeth and fighting the nausea, I grabbed a trash bag from the car and quietly retched into it.

When I looked up, Charles was glaring at me with an expression of pure disgust.

“Sarah, you know Bev has to get in this car later. Now you’ve made it smell disgusting. Are you trying to ruin her day on purpose?”

I clutched the edge of my shirt tightly.

“I can’t stand the scent of that air freshener.”

His face darkened even further.

“That air freshener is Bev’s favorite. So, tell me, is it really the smell you can’t stand? Or is it Bev?

“If you’re trying to pull another one of your sympathy stunts, don’t bother. It won’t work on me. You’re only making me hate you more.

“Get out. I don’t want Bev getting in and complaining about the smell. You can catch a cab. I’ll text you the location.”

Without another word, I climbed out of the car.

The moment I shut the door, he hit the gas and sped off, leaving me alone on the empty roadside.

I checked the location he sent me. Thankfully, it wasn’t far.

However, it still took me over an hour of walking. I was alone, exhausted, and nearly collapsing from fatigue before I finally arrived at the hotel where the exhibition was being held.

By the time I arrived, the showcase was already over.

In the private lounge, Charles was patiently peeling shrimp for Beverly.

The moment he saw me, he frowned.

“Sarah, what on earth happened to you? You look like a mess. How embarrassing.”

I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. The wind from the walk had left my hair in complete disarray.

Beverly immediately stepped forward, pouting as she complained. “Sarah, can you please talk to Charles for me? He’s so annoying! He’s already peeled me a whole plate of shrimp. If I eat any more, I’ll get too fat for anyone to like me!”

Charles’ expression softened instantly.

“Bev, you’re not fat at all. And even if no one else wanted you, I would.”

Beaming, Beverly darted up to Charles, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him loudly on the cheek.

“Charles, you’re the best!”

Charles ruffled her hair affectionately. “I ordered another dessert for you earlier. You girls love your sweets.”

Beverly cast a glance at me, blinking innocently as she addressed me. “Sarah, don’t take this the wrong way. There’s nothing going on between me and Charles.

“Here, let me toast to you!”

She filled a teacup with steaming hot tea.

Before I could react, she turned toward me and forced the cup into my hand, “accidentally” pouring the scalding tea down my arm.

The burning sensation was instantaneous, and I couldn’t hold back a cry of pain.

Oddly enough, Beverly also let out a shriek.

Before I could process what was happening, Charles rushed over to me, glaring at me with eyes full of disappointment.

“Sarah, I really can’t believe you!”

Then he slapped me across the face.

He immediately turned to Beverly, grabbed her hand, and examined it carefully.

From where I stood, I could see her hand was just a little red.

Yet Beverly’s eyes brimmed with tears, her voice choked with sobs as she said, “Charles, I didn’t think Sarah hated me this much…

“The tea… it’s so hot…”

Charles looked at me as though I had committed some unforgivable crime.

“Sarah, I never imagined you could be this cruel. Are you so jealous of Bev that you’d hurt her on purpose?

“Do you even understand how important her hands are to her?

“I’ll give you one last chance. Apologize to Bev. If you don’t, I’ll reconsider our relationship.”

I looked at the malice in his gaze cut deep, my heart already shattered into countless pieces.

Yes, Beverly’s hands were important. What about mine, though?

There was a time when Charles cared about me just as much.

If I so much as scraped my skin, he would panic, cooking soup for me and making sure I rested until I was fully healed.

I would laugh at him for overreacting, and he would tap my nose playfully, smile, and say, “You silly girl. Nothing’s more important than you!”

Back then, his eyes held nothing but tenderness.

Now, the man standing before me was someone I no longer recognized.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“Charles, are you saying that if I don’t apologize, we’re done?”

He looked momentarily stunned by my bluntness, but quickly regained his usual cold demeanor.

“Yep.”

Over the past seven years, he had threatened to break up with me 99 times.

This would be the 100th, and I had no intention of stopping him.

I was filled with an overwhelming sense of disgust for his stupidity.

“Fine.

“But before that, let’s settle the expenses I’ve covered for the company…”

Before I could finish, Charles cut me off harshly. “Bev is already hurt, and you’re still harping on about money? You’re disgusting!”

Charles seemed to have forgotten everything.

How I’d drained my savings to help him start his dream company or turned down lucrative offers from other firms just to stay by his side as a lowly designer in his company.

I had never been a materialistic woman, either.

However, none of that mattered anymore, not since Beverly entered the picture.

Without a word, I pulled several reimbursement forms from my bag and handed them to Charles.

He didn't even glance at them before signing his name at the bottom of each page.

What he didn’t notice was the last sheet—my resignation letter.