And the complaint receipt to prove it.

Jim Gilbert was shaking from head to toe.

“You filed a complaint against me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice so raw it barely sounded human：

“Mia, I loved you so much!”

I finally couldn't hold it in. I laughed.

Laughed until my shoulders shook.

“Love?”

“Jim, do you even know what that word means?”

“Does love make a woman work three jobs a day?”

“Does love tie up a pregnant wife and force her to watch her husband in bed with his mistress?”

“Does love turn around and hold another woman while his wife is having a miscarriage?”

Every sentence cut like a blade.

Jim's face went whiter with each one.

And then he dropped. Hit the floor on both knees with a heavy “thud.”

Even his secretary froze.

The Gilbert heir—that untouchable, high-and-mighty princeling.

On his knees.

He seized my hand and held on like it was the last thing keeping him alive.

“Mia……”

“I was wrong.”

“I know I was wrong.”

“Just give me one more chance, please?”

“I'll give you Gilbert Group. I'll give you everything……”

“Please—don't throw me away……”

His tears fell one by one onto the back of my hand.

Scalding.

But I felt nothing.

Remorse that comes too late is worth less than dirt.

He wasn't sorry because he was wrong. He was sorry because he was finished.

I slowly pulled my hand free.

“Jim.”

“The moment you hung up on me.”

“You already lost me.”

The door swung open again. Several police walked in.

“Mr. Gilbert, you are suspected of corporate crimes. Please come with us.”

Jim's whole body jolted.

He turned, but his eyes were still locked on me.

The way someone drowning fixes on the only face above the water.

“Mia……”

“Will you come see me?”

I looked at him calmly.

“No.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

As the police led him away,

the man who had once been untouchable collapsed into ugly, uncontrolled sobbing.