I was the top repair specialist at a luxury goods store.

Ninety percent of the shop's revenue came from my work alone.

In three years, I turned a run-down little shop on the brink of closing into a nationwide chain.

All because I clocked in two minutes late one morning, the newly appointed supervisor, Tom Menzie, locked the front doors and announced he was taking everyone on a company trip.

I asked why no one bothered to tell me.

Tom sneered, "Well, those who can do more are trusted with more. We're going on vacation. You stay and work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get the hell out!"

I was so mad that I laughed. I called the owner directly.

"I heard you're firing me."

Before the person on the other end could reply, my supervisor, Tom Menzie, snatched my phone and hung up, glaring at me as if he wanted to eat me alive.

"Are you trying to tattle? You should know that this was Ms. Booth's decision."

I smiled lightly. "Are you sure about that?"

Tom let out a nasty grin and patted my shoulder.

"People need to know their place. Take a good look at yourself. You're just a bottom-level employee. What makes you think you can go up against me? Either you stay and work, or you pack your stuff and get out."

Seeing me humiliated like that, a few coworkers couldn't stand it and spoke up for me.

"Isn't this a bit much? Most of our clients came because they know Jake. If he really leaves…"

At least some people knew I was the backbone of the place.

"Jake's eye and craftsmanship are top-tier in the industry. Assigning him to handling routine luxury deals is unnecessary. Mr. Menzie, you should show him some respect. If you chase him out, we'll all be eating dust."

Tom's face darkened, his eyes sharp with anger.

"How dare you talk back! I'm taking you all on a trip, and you still won't shut up? Ungrateful, the lot of you. You're the reason he's so spoiled and lazy."

I waved a hand and smiled at my coworkers. Most of the staff here still had a conscience.

Only a small handful were ingrates like Tom.

"That's okay. You don't need to speak up for me," I said.

Gavin Blair, who usually greeted me with a fake friendly smile, suddenly looked eager to kick me when I was down. He sighed dramatically.

"Jake, you've gotten plenty of benefits playing the pretty boy. Just apologize to Mr. Menzie, and this will blow over."

"Oh? Afraid I'm taking your job?" I shot back without hesitation. "Go take a look at yourself in the mirror. Do you think you're even qualified to tell me what to do?"

Please. When he needed help, he was all smiles, but the moment someone took the lead, he couldn't wait to pile on.

"What did you just say?" Gavin flew into a rage, as if someone had stepped on his tail.

I looked at him with open contempt, then swept my gaze across the shop. Even the interior design was done by me.

"Luxe Atelier became an industry leader because of me. Get rid of me, and it'll come crashing down in less than two weeks."

Several coworkers close to me nodded in agreement.

Tom and Gavin burst out laughing, clutching the wall just to steady themselves.

Gavin laughed so hard that tears came out. "Jake, you only got those numbers by using your face to charm rich women! Lying to us is one thing. Don't lie to yourself."

"Alright." Instead of feeling upset, I felt strangely relaxed.

If I really had no value, this dump wouldn't have grown the way it did in just three years.

It was my connections and my skills that pushed it to the top of the industry, step by step.

I guess I had been too easygoing, letting these parasites forget who they really were.

Tom didn't bother arguing anymore. He waved everyone toward the tour bus.

Just then, a cab stopped in front of Luxe Atelier, and a familiar-looking man stepped out.

He greeted Tom like an old friend and said loudly, "Hey, everyone. I'm Luxe Atelier's new luxury restoration engineer. Name's Stan Ford. Just call me Stan. Let's take this trip and get to know each other. When we're back, everyone gets a 200-dollar raise on top of their current salary."

I broke into a grin.

This guy was interesting.

No wonder the guy looked familiar.

About six months ago, he botched a restoration on a limited-edition bag.

He had to pull some strings to get it sent to me, and I fixed it without much trouble.

Internationally certified restoration experts like me were rare. I couldn't believe Tom brought Stan in to replace me, having no fear that he would wreck Luxe Atelier's reputation.

Then again, once I was gone, that name wouldn't be worth much anyway.

I couldn't help laughing and said dryly, "Mr. Ford, didn't you just make yourself the industry's biggest joke earlier this year? What, memory of a goldfish now?"

A few coworkers covered their mouths, snickering.

"Why bring in someone with a stain on his record?"

"Yeah, his eye can't compare to Jake's. Don't tell me he's going to mistake fakes for the real thing."

They weren't being quiet.

Stan frowned slightly and said stiffly, "Jake, no matter how good you are, they can't beat a scalable model. I can serve high-end clients and also grow the mass market, blend the two together."

He lifted a brow, his tone sharp and mocking.

"People mess up when they confuse a platform's convenience with their own ability. You're about to get fired, and you still have the nerve to talk big?"

That actually made me laugh.

Other than the owner, no one here had the authority to fire me.

I looked him up and down until he started bristling.

"Is that so? As a craftsman, you can't touch me on skill, so all you've got left is a title to make yourself feel important. Don't pretend like you're in this position because of your ability. What a joke!"

I held his gaze. He swallowed hard, over and over.

The looks from everyone around were like knives, slicing straight through his vanity.

He fumbled for a cigarette, clearly flustered. His jaw bulged, his eyes burning like he wanted to tear me apart.

"I'll tell you this. Ms. Booth personally asked me to take your position. Next month, she and I are getting married. That makes me half your boss."

I froze.

So Tom and Stan dared to act this arrogantly because Christine Booth was backing them.

What no one here knew was that Christine was my wife. That was the whole reason I had stayed on as a regular employee in the first place.

Five years ago, the Booths tried to break into the fashion world and failed hard.

Christine's father, Ken Booth, panicked and leaned on an old college connection to find my dad.

They were alumni. Back in school, my family was broke. My dad lived on dry toast for three meals a day.

Ken covered my dad's breakfast and lunch for a full year. My dad never forgot it.

To repay that favor, he sent me to build up the secondhand luxury market.

People flocked in. Luxe Atelier became famous almost overnight, and Christine confessed her feelings to me.

I suspected the Booths wanted to bind me to them that way. I warned her again and again not to gamble her whole life on this.

She insisted on marrying me. I agreed to date her with marriage as the end goal.

And now, she was betraying our marriage, discarding me once I had outlived my usefulness, even replacing me with Stan.

So be it. I had misjudged her.

I clicked my tongue and looked at Stan, my words slow and pointed.

"Christine is my wife. Aren't you worried I'll make things hard for you?"

Stan dragged hard on his cigarette, amusement flickering in his eyes. "What a joke! You're just a low-level employee. Who do you think you're fooling?"

"Yeah," Tom chimed in right away. "Stop dreaming."

I was just about to speak when a BMW pulled up between us.

Christine stepped out, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, and walked straight to Stan. She took his hand, graceful and unhesitating.

"Stan has no reason to worry."

Christine curled her red lips into a smile and lifted her phone.

"I've been on the call with Stan the whole time. I heard every word you said. Jake, I'm not even going to bother making excuses anymore. I married you to use you. Luxe Atelier is already famous. I don't need you anymore, and I'm allowed to chase my own happiness."

Tom and Gavin exchanged a look, their grins barely contained.

Christine went on, "Marrying you was our fallback plan after the Booths failed to break into the fashion world. We pivoted to luxury goods instead. I'm the heir to the Booths. I get to be selfish. I'm not settling for a lifetime of compromise."

I had expected shamelessness. I just didn't expect her to say it so openly.

As it turned out, people could actually be this brazen.

I clasped my hands behind my back, digging my fingers into my palms until my fingertips went pale, forcing myself to calm down.

"Fine. Have Mr. Booth call me. I want to hear him say he's firing me himself."

Christine's expression tightened, fury flashing across her face. "We're adults. Don't pull that childish tattling nonsense. I'm the owner of Luxe Atelier. No one tells me what to do."

Tom rushed to curry favor, sneering, "Are you deaf? Ms. Booth told you to get out. What are you still standing there for?"

Gavin looked downright delighted. "Jake, stop blocking the entrance. The adult world is brutal. Don't embarrass yourself and give the neighbors something to laugh at."

I smiled faintly, my eyes ice-cold.

"Jake, don't think too highly of yourself. You're just the Booth family's guard dog. When your owners stop feeding you, you go beg on the street," Stan sneered.

"Damn it!"

I lunged forward, shoved Christine aside, and drove my fist straight into Stan's stomach.

Stan screamed. Christine slammed into me and spread her arms in front of him.

"Jake, if you're angry, take it out on me. Touch Stan again, and I'll make sure you won't get a cent from the divorce!"

I stared at the face I had looked at for five years, my stomach twisting.

In those five years, most of what she ever said to me was to send me on another business trip or tell me to work late and meet clients.

At dinners, she would push drinks on me just to make the clients laugh.

I used to think Christine was just a driven career woman who didn't know how to care about my feelings.

But now, she was standing in front of Stan, scolding me, her husband, with cold arrogance.

I clenched my fists, forcing down the nausea. "Christine, did you ever have any feelings for me at all for the past five years? You hid it well. Too well."

Stan shook his head, his expression still pained. With Christine shielding him, his bruised pride flared. He didn't dare throw a punch, but his mouth didn't hold back.

"Damn it! Do you know why you two never had kids in five years? Christine's been on birth control the whole time. She'd rather die than have your kid…"

Christine's eyes flickered, and she grabbed Stan's arm.

"Stan, stop!"

She knew I had gone to the hospital countless times these past years, all while she kept hinting that I was the problem.

"Christine," I asked quietly, "is it true?"