My father abandoned me and my mother for another woman. We suffered for half of our lives because of him.

Thanks to Monica, I finally knew what it felt like to be called the homewrecker.

In the office, Monica reached out to hug me.

I stepped back. "Ms. Teller, this is the workplace."

Her brows knitted slightly. "Don't be mad anymore, okay? I'll go with you to see your mom tonight."

I shook my head. "There's no need for that."

My mother was already gone, and honestly, I did not want her to see Monica anyway.

If she learned that people thought I was a homewrecker because of Monica, she would be furious with me.

Monica seemed to notice something was off.

After a long silence, she said softly, "I can divorce Gurney in two more days. After that, we'll finally get married."

She placed a gift box in my hands.

"I bought some nourished supplements for your mom to help her get stronger."

I stared at it, dazed. The thought was kind, but it was far too late.

My mother did not need it anymore.

Seeing me wordless, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. She opened her mouth to explain, but the shrill ringtone of her phone cut her off.

Monica glanced at me, hesitated for a second, and walked away to take the call.

I did not need to ask. It was Gurney, her legal husband.

My heart did not even flinch as I no longer cared.

Later, I submitted my resignation.

Zachary Jules, the vice-CEO of the company, looked like he had been expecting it.

"Lincoln, don't worry. I'm sure Ms. Teller will take care of you."

I bit my lip, feeling the absurdity of it all.

Everyone seemed to believe I was just Monica's pretty little kept man, tucked into the company because she wanted me there.

They could not believe that I was the real boyfriend, that I was the one she betrayed, leaving me broken enough to walk away.

On my way out, I ran into Monica and Gurney in the elevator.

Her eyes flickered when she saw me and explained in a hurry, "Don't get the wrong idea, I only brought Gurney here because..."

Before she could finish, Gurney slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I'm here to check out my wife's company."

I stayed silent.

Then, he turned to me with a smug smile. "Lincoln, you don't mind, right?"

I stepped out of the elevator without a word, making way for them.

Monica hesitated as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, Gurney pulled her along.

That afternoon, at the crematorium, I watched my mother's body turn into a soft handful of ashes.

I placed her to rest in the cemetery.

By the time the sun went down, Monica still had not shown up. There was not a single message either.

I was not bothered in the slightest.

Without her intrusion, my mother could leave the world in peace.

In fact, I was sure her spirit would not want me tangled up with Monica anymore, nor would she want to see me marry her.

It was finally time to end our relationship that lasted six years.

I left the cemetery and walked home. It had been a long time since I walked alone at night.

Back then, I had my mother's hand in mine. Later, it was Monica holding my arm. From that moment on, it would be just me.

I told myself I would get used to it.

I did not make it home until nearly dawn.

The living room lights were still switched on. Monica sat curled on the couch, phone in hand, typing messages.

The moment I walked in, her tense face softened.

She rushed over and grabbed my hand. "Where were you? You didn't answer my calls, nor did you reply to my texts. I was about to call the cops!"

I froze, then gently pulled my hand free. "I was with my mom. I didn't want her to be disturbed."

At the mention of my mother, guilt flickered across her face. Then, almost suddenly, her eyes lit with hope.

She pulled out a small box and held it out solemnly.

I took it without thinking, flipped it open, and froze.

Inside was a pair of wedding rings.

My chest tightened.

I remembered the day she once held my hand with such conviction, swearing we would wear our rings, register our marriage, and let my mother witness our happiness.

I had waited so long and looked forward to it, but that was in the past.

I shut the box and handed it back to Monica.

Monica's brows furrowed slightly. It was as if something suddenly dawned on her.

Her voice carried a hint of awkwardness as she said, "It's already past midnight. Just one more day, and I can finally divorce Gurney. Don't worry, Lincoln. I never forgot my promise to you. Tomorrow, we'll put on our rings and go get married."

Her sweet words did not move me. I only replied calmly, "Alright. I'm tired. I'm going to rest."

The smile on her face froze, and for the first time, she realized I was brushing her off.

A flicker of panic passed through her eyes as she reached for my hand.

Just then, Gurney came out of the bedroom wearing my pajamas.

His eyes were still half-closed from sleep.

He glanced at me, then slipped an arm around Monica's shoulders and whined playfully, "Monica, Lincoln's back already. Come on, let's get some sleep."

Monica quickly looked at me, scrambling to explain, "Gurney had a fight with his family, so I let him stay in the guest room for the night."

She stared at me nervously, as if terrified that I would get the wrong idea.

I nodded indifferently. "It's fine. I'll just stay at my mom's place tonight."

She froze, caught off guard by how easily I agreed.

Gurney smirked, turned on his heel, and strutted back into the bedroom without giving me the chance to change my mind.

When I pulled my suitcase toward the door, Monica was still standing there in the living room. Her lips pressed tight, her hand clutching mine like she could not let go.

Guilt swam in her eyes, growing heavier by the second.

Finally, with Gurney's impatient voice calling from the bedroom, she whispered, "Tomorrow, after we get married, we'll go visit your mom together."

By morning, I had packed everything and returned to the office to finish my final handover.

The moment I stepped inside, I could feel the stares. My colleagues glanced at me sideways, whispering behind my back.

Then, I saw why. Gurney was sitting at my desk.

The whole office tried to pretend they were busy, but their eyes kept flicking toward the scene like they were watching a car crash.

When he saw me, Gurney leaned back in my chair with a smug smile. "I'm starting here today. I want this desk. You can find another spot."

I looked at him calmly, nodded once. "Alright. I'll just pack my things."

We spoke so calmly, without drama, that my coworkers assumed I was backing down. In their eyes, the side piece was finally cowering in front of the rightful husband.

No one dared say it out loud, but I could hear the contempt clicking through their keyboards.

How could I explain otherwise? Legally, Gurney was Monica's husband. Anything I said would only humiliate me more.

I gathered my things and was about to leave when Monica rushed over.

Her eyes fell on the suitcase in my arms, and her face tightened. "Where are you going?"

"I..."

Before I could finish, Gurney cut in. "He's leaving my spot open. I like sitting here."

Seeing me turn away, Monica panicked and grabbed my arm. "No! This desk is yours, Lincoln. No one else..."

I cut her off. "If Gurney likes it, he can have it."

I had already left the company. What did a desk matter anymore?

She froze, her expression dark and unreadable. Only when I disappeared with my suitcase did she snap back to herself.

In front of everyone, she shoved Gurney aside, then slapped him across the face with a sharp crack.

"Did our sham marriage give you the illusion you could push your luck? Didn't I warn you to never mess with Lincoln?"

After leaving the company, my phone buzzed with messages from Monica.

[I'll wait for you at the courthouse tomorrow.]

[I arranged for a specialist to treat your mom.]

[Once we get our marriage certificates, we'll visit her together.]

I laughed bitterly and bid her a silent farewell.

'Goodbye, Monica,' I thought to myself.

I took my luggage and went straight to the airport.

The next day, while I was already gone, she stood at the entrance of the courthouse, her freshly obtained divorce papers still warm in her hand.