After making significant contributions to the company's IPO preparations, my girlfriend is finally ready to publicly announce our relationship.

However, her assistant, whom I had always disliked, took the lead. He swaggered onto the stage and hugged her waist:

"I thought we had to wait a few more years, but now you can't resist me, can you?"

He sneered and looked at me proudly.

My girlfriend didn't explain, but handed him a document - a share transfer agreement - and announced to the audience that he is now a shareholder of the company.

Everyone present was whispering and looking at me.

The assistant proudly insulted me, almost without hiding, "That useless man, it's better for you to leave him early."

My girlfriend not only didn't speak up for me, but also said coldly, "I only kept him because he's still useful to the company."

All the onlookers watching the excitement are waiting for me to explode. But on the contrary, I smiled and nodded, generously giving my remaining shares to the assistant as well.

"Let's see, "I said thoughtfully in my heart," how they will manage this company without the main investors?"

------

As Emily announced Ryan's new status as a company shareholder, the audience erupted into enthusiastic applause.

I stood motionless, my mind clouded from countless nights of overtime. For a moment, I doubted what I'd heard.

"Look at Jake's expression—it's hilarious!"

"He's been with the CEO for ages and only got 2% of the shares. Ryan's barely arrived and snagged 20% just like that."

"Jake's always criticizing Ryan's work, but now? He looks completely foolish."

The crowd made no effort to hide their comments, ensuring I heard every word. They weren't mocking me for fun—they were trying to gain favor with Ryan and Emily. She made no attempt to stop them.

Ryan shot me a smug look, his voice dripping with feigned innocence as he said, "Jake, no applause from you? Don't tell me you're upset about me getting shares."

He paused dramatically, pouting. "I mean, if we're considering seniority, I suppose you should've received them instead."

He casually extended the contract towards me, as if offering a consolation prize. But before I could react, Emily snatched the papers and pushed them back into his hands with a playful yet firm gesture.

"Ryan, you're too generous," she said with a soft chuckle. "But the company values talent, not tenure."

Then, her gaze turned icy as it fell on me.

"And you, Jake, don't you dare cause a scene. Let's not forget the massive error you made last quarter, costing the company millions. The fact that I didn't fire you outright was already lenient. What right do you have to expect shares?"

The two of them were in perfect sync, like actors in a well-rehearsed performance. I couldn't help but find it amusing.

That "error" she mentioned? It was Ryan's fault. He panicked when things went wrong and blamed me. I'd tried to present evidence and explain the truth to Emily, but she didn't believe me. She never did.

I'd grown accustomed to it by now. Over the years, Ryan had shown little talent but had devoted all his energy to undermining me. Fresh out of college, he knew how to charm people with his words. He'd won over most of our colleagues, and even Emily thought he was harmless and honest.

So, whenever Ryan and I clashed, Emily always assumed I was at fault. And because of that, my coworkers had grown increasingly disrespectful toward me.

Ryan's voice interrupted my thoughts, still dripping with mock humility. "But I'm just worried Jake might feel bad."

As he spoke, he leaned closer to Emily, his head almost resting on her shoulder in an uncomfortably intimate gesture. Emily didn't push him away. Instead, she shot me a sharp look.

"Jake, wipe that sour look off your face!" she snapped. "I thought long and hard about this decision. Stop sulking and ruining everyone's mood. If you can't handle it, maybe you should just leave!"

The room erupted in agreement, voices chiming in to back her up.

I knew Emily was just venting her frustration, but I couldn't help but laugh.

The investors? I had brought them in after countless sleepless nights. The proposals? I had rewritten them over and over again. The IPO? It had only succeeded because of my efforts.

And now, with the company finally going public, they wanted to cut me out entirely? They thought a few harsh words could erase all my hard work?

I grabbed my bag and strode toward the stage.

Ryan, clearly nervous, shrank behind Emily, his eyes wide with fear. Emily immediately stepped in front of him, shielding him like a mother bear protecting her cub.

"Jake, what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice sharp with warning.

I pulled a document from my bag and held it out to her.

"I just think," I said calmly, "that Ryan's worked so hard, the shares you've given him aren't enough."

I smiled faintly. "Take mine too. Let's hope he can keep up the momentum."

Ryan's eyes lit up as he stared at the document, practically salivating at the thought of owning more shares.

Emily, however, looked at me with suspicion, her expression unreadable. The room fell silent as everyone tried to process what I had just done.

They all knew how much I had sacrificed for the company. I'd been there since day one, building it from the ground up. I'd handled everything—from securing investments to juggling the smallest of tasks.

Now that the IPO was a success, my shares were worth millions. Everyone had assumed I'd use this opportunity to negotiate for more. No one could have imagined I'd simply give them away.

What they didn't know was that Emily wasn't just my boss—she was my fiancée. For years, she had insisted we keep our relationship a secret to avoid workplace gossip.

But when Ryan showed up, I started to worry. I begged her to acknowledge our relationship, and after much pleading, she finally agreed to announce it on the day of the IPO.

Last night, I was so excited I couldn't even sleep.

But when the moment came, Ryan stepped onto the stage first, wrapping his arm around her waist. And Emily... she didn't stop him. She didn't even seem uncomfortable.

Everyone assumed they were a couple, and Emily didn't bother correcting them.

It wasn't that she didn't want our relationship to go public. She just didn't want this relationship to go public.

She remained silent, and I didn't say another word. I turned and walked away.

I had barely made it a few steps when I felt a warm hand grab my wrist.

I turned, surprised to see that it was Emily. She had never stopped me before. She always let me leave, knowing I'd inevitably come back to apologize.

But this time was different.

She pressed her lips together and said, "Jake, you're too impulsive. Ryan is calm and collected—everything you're not."

"I didn't want to cut you out, but after today, I don't have a choice. These shares need to go to someone who can handle them responsibly."

I couldn't help but laugh. This wasn't about my "impulsiveness." She was just trying to justify giving my shares to Ryan.

In the past, I might've argued with her. But now, I just felt... nothing.

"Okay," I said simply.

Emily blinked, clearly expecting me to put up more of a fight. Before she could say anything else, one of our coworkers called for a champagne toast. Emily shot me one last glance before turning away, the contract in her hand.

I watched her walk toward Ryan, then turned and left the banquet hall.

Outside, I pulled out my phone and made a call.

"Dad," I said, my voice steady. "You were right. I'm ready to come back and take over the family business."

My father is a business tycoon, owning numerous corporations and consistently ranking among the top twenty on Forbes' list.

I epitomize the concept of a trust fund child.

However, when I initially encountered Emily, I distinctly recall her recounting how her father had been fatally struck in a hit-and-run accident caused by a privileged young individual. The culprit, shielded by their family's affluence and connections, evaded significant consequences and was released from custody within days.

Since that incident, Emily has fostered an intense aversion towards the affluent.

To be with her, I concealed my background. I rejected every opportunity my family presented, relocated to a small town with her, and invested all my savings to help launch her business venture.

Until yesterday, I foolishly believed that Emily and I had finally achieved success, that our sacrifices had been worthwhile.

But now, I comprehend the extent of my loss.

After concluding a phone call, I returned to the modest apartment Emily and I shared. The space was exquisitely adorned—warm and intimate. Heart-shaped candles lined the floor, and at the center stood a bouquet of vivid blue roses.

Nestled among the flowers was an elegant diamond ring.

Beside it lay the deed to a luxurious residence—the one I had intended to surprise Emily with.

I had envisioned her reaction countless times, picturing the delight and affection in her eyes. But now, it all seemed meaningless.

Emily would never see it.

I gathered everything—the ring, the flowers, the deed—and discarded it all in the trash.

Then, I booked a flight for the following evening. I required one day to conclude my work and hand over my responsibilities.

"Ding."

My phone alerted me to a notification.

It was a video from Ryan.

The footage showed Ryan carrying Emily in his arms, her face flushed as she clung tightly to his neck, nestling her face against his chest. They appeared to be the perfect couple.

Around them, colleagues cheered and applauded, urging them to kiss.

The video vanished seconds later, deleted.

Then, a message appeared.

"Oops, sorry, sent that by mistake."

Naturally, I didn't believe him. Ryan had always been calculating, hadn't he? This was just another of his manipulations.

Over the past few years, he'd orchestrated similar stunts numerous times.

Typically, I'd lose my composure, confront Emily, and end up being reprimanded by her.

"Can't you stop being so insecure? Perhaps focus more on your work instead of this nonsense?"

Initially, I thought I was being paranoid. But once, when Emily was ill and semi-delirious, she called out Ryan's name.

That's when I realized her heart no longer belonged to me.

This time, I felt nothing. I simply blocked Ryan without hesitation and erased his contact.

Shortly after, my phone rang.

It was Emily.

"Jake, did you block Ryan?" she demanded immediately upon answering, her tone frigid and accusatory.

She was unconcerned about Ryan's actions—only that I had blocked him.

"I did," I replied tersely.

"What's the matter with you? He's your colleague! How is he supposed to perform his job now? He believes he must have done something wrong and has been blaming himself, crying incessantly. Add him back and apologize!"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you even aware of what he sent me?"

There was silence on the other end, likely as she consulted with Ryan. Moments later, she responded dismissively, "So what if he sent the wrong picture? It's not significant."

Of course. When it came to Ryan, nothing was ever significant.

I emitted a cold laugh. "You're right, it's insignificant. Just like when he 'accidentally' sent the incorrect pricing sheet to a client, and we lost millions as a result."

That incident had been disastrous. Ryan had sent our bottom-line pricing to a partner, leading to multiple contract cancellations and negotiations. A week's worth of diligent effort—and over a million dollars—was squandered.

Emily hadn't cared then, either.

The line went quiet momentarily. Clearly, she recollected the incident.

Then I heard Ryan's voice in the background, soft and hoarse. "Emily, Jake's probably just upset about the shares you gave me today. I should apologize to him."

Emily's tone immediately softened. "No need, Ryan. It wasn't your fault. Let him cool off on his own."

And with that, she ended the call.

It was always like this. Whenever we argued, Emily would use the excuse that I needed to "calm down" to spend more time with Ryan instead.

But this time, I didn't feel angry.

I calmly composed my resignation letter and sent it to HR.

As I pressed send on my resignation email, a sense of liberation washed over me, as if a massive burden had been removed from my shoulders.

In the early hours of the morning, my deep slumber was disrupted by Emily's incoming call.

"Come get me. I'm still at the venue from before," she stated.

I could hear the bustling atmosphere in the background—likely another work-related gathering.

In the past, I would have leapt out of bed, hastily dressed, and rushed to her aid. This time, however, I responded with a drowsy, uninterested tone.

"Use a ride-hailing service," I suggested. "There should be plenty available in that area."

Emily hesitated, her voice tinged with doubt. "Are you sleeping?"

"Yes," I replied, indifferently.

Previously, when Emily attended work or networking events, I'd remain awake, concerned for her well-being until she returned home. Tonight, however, I slept soundly. Her call felt like an unwelcome interruption to my rest.

She didn't press the issue further. Approximately thirty minutes later, she arrived home.

I had just exited the bathroom when our gazes met in the hallway.

"You're awake," she said quietly. "Please prepare some noodles for me. I'm famished."

Her voice was soft, almost pleading. I recognized this as her attempt to reconcile, to mend our disagreement. Typically, when we argued, she'd display vulnerability to reopen communication and bridge the gap between us.

But that approach only worked because I cared for her.

Now that affection had dissipated, leaving only frustration in its wake.

"Cook for yourself," I replied bluntly. "Or order something if you're unsure how."

As I turned towards the bedroom, Emily blocked my path.

That's when I detected the faint aroma of Ryan's cologne on her.

"Jake, are you really still upset?" she asked, her tone a mixture of frustration and incredulity.

"I've already clarified this for you—everything I'm doing is for the company's benefit. Just because we've gone public doesn't mean we can relax. If anything, it's time to redouble our efforts."

"Ryan might not be the most capable," she continued, "but he has connections, excels at networking, and his family owns businesses we could potentially collaborate with in the future. Giving him shares wasn't about favoritism—it was about what's best for the company."

I hadn't anticipated her justifying herself in this manner.

But it was irrelevant. Whether she believed her own explanations or not, I didn't.

"Mm-hmm," I responded dismissively and entered the bedroom, closing the door behind me.

Emily seemed stunned, pausing outside before angrily kicking the door. "Fine! Behave this way if you want, Jake! But don't come complaining to me later when you regret it!"

The following morning, I emerged from the bedroom to find Emily on the couch, meticulously pressing a new suit.

Upon seeing me, she immediately stood up, holding the suit towards me.

"Here, try this on," she said cheerfully, almost forcing it into my hands.

I recognized it immediately—it was a limited-edition Chanel suit. Not only was it incredibly expensive, but it was also notoriously difficult to acquire. Social media was filled with posts about how it was the ideal gift for a boyfriend.

I had once mentioned to Emily that I thought it looked impressive.

After changing into the suit, I stepped out of the bedroom, feeling an unexpected lump in my throat. I was about to speak, but Emily spoke first, her tone light and teasing.

"You and Ryan are about the same size. It fits you perfectly, so it should look just as good on him."

She smiled as she carefully removed the jacket from me.

"Be careful not to crease it," she added. "I spent a lot of time getting it just right."

Then, she folded the suit back into its gift box, looking satisfied, and left with it.

I knew she was doing this intentionally, retaliating for yesterday.

But instead of feeling angry, all I felt was a sense of detachment. It was immature, after all.

Later that morning, I received a call and went to the office to finalize my resignation.

As soon as I entered the building, I saw Ryan perched on my desk, surrounded by colleagues fawning over him as if he were the center of attention.

One of them approached me with a smug expression. "Jake, go fetch some coffee for everyone."

"Why?" I asked, checking my watch. I wasn't late.

The coworker's grin widened. "Emily said whoever arrives at the office last has to buy everyone coffee. And guess what? You're the last one here."

"Don't worry about it," Ryan interjected, standing up and adjusting the suit jacket he was wearing—the same one Emily had taken that morning.

"I wouldn't want Jake running errands for everyone," he said, his voice loud enough for the entire room to hear. "I'll go instead."

Of course, he made no move to leave.

Right on cue, Emily exited her office. Her eyes flicked to Ryan's suit, and for a brief moment, her expression faltered before she quickly regained composure.

She stepped forward, straightening his collar with a smile. "I knew it would look great on you," she said warmly.

The others erupted into cheers and laughter.

Emily's face reddened slightly as she glanced at me, clearly checking to see if I'd react with jealousy or anger.

But I didn't. My heart was like a still lake—calm, empty, and unaffected.

Emily didn't seem satisfied with my lack of response. Her tone turned cold as she said, "I already told everyone—whoever arrived last needs to buy coffee. If you're not going to cooperate, why are you even here?"

A coworker pointed at me. "Jake was the last one in."

Emily smirked. "Go on, then. And if you don't, I'll terminate your employment."

Apparently, she hadn't seen my resignation email yet.

I didn't bother concealing it anymore.

"I'm not here to work," I said calmly. "I'm here to resign."