"You did an excellent job."

The moment Laurel appeared, Ross's gaze was glued to her.

The two of them were so engrossed in their own little world while exchanging playful, intimate remarks, oblivious to the crowd.

Laurel shot me a challenging glance, her eyes practically daring me to react.

She was marking her territory, showing off her supposed victory.

But I wasn't interested in competing for a man's attention. My value had never been about pleasing men.

Laurel's little display of dominance felt more like a childish tantrum to me.

I wouldn't let such petty behavior get to me. I never did before, and I surely wouldn't now.

Ross was too busy talking to the shareholders with Laurel at his side, both of them the center of attention.

Laurel stayed close, making it look like they were a pair.

Watching it all with cold detachment, I finished my drink before quietly slipping out of the staged event.

I took advantage of the moment and gathered all my personal belongings from the office, packing them into a box.

When I got home, my phone buzzed with a video from Laurel.

The video showed a drunk Ross holding onto her as they entangled. Laurel smiled at the camera, smug and provocative.

I glanced at the video and chuckled lightly. It didn't stir up any emotion in me—not a single ripple.

I calmly opened my laptop, sent my resignation letter to HR, and then posted a statement about leaving the company on Twitter.

Within moments, the entire industry was buzzing.

Colleagues and clients I had worked with reached out, asking what had happened.

The most anxious were the investors—those who had been considering putting money into our projects. They urgently contacted me, trying to verify if what they'd heard was true.

Anyone who knew the company knew that I had been the lead on our most important project.

We had just held a major project presentation, and now that I was leaving, potential investors needed to reassess the risks.

Those who had previously shown interest in investing quickly started to back off, uncertain of what would happen next.

Without investment, the company would stall, and the previous efforts could all go to waste.

Ross realized this immediately, and panic set in.

He called me, but I ignored it, so he rushed out of the event and headed straight to my place to confront me.

When he saw my suitcase already packed, he froze for a moment, but it didn't stop him.

He stormed in and shot me a glare.

"Jennifer, are you out of your mind? Why would you release that statement at such a critical moment? Don't you realize you've just undone everything we've worked for these past six months?"

I barely glanced at him, too tired to even look him in the eye.

"Once you're done, please leave my room," I said coolly. "I've already submitted my resignation. And by the way, your assistant claimed responsibility for this project during the presentation. If there's a problem now, you should be talking to her, not me."

I shoved him toward the door, then turned back to finish packing.

I had a flight to Euchoth already booked, and I was ready to leave.

Ross stood there, banging on the door in a fit of rage, but it didn't last long.

I thought maybe he had finally realized there was no point in wasting his time on me anymore.

That was when the company assistant called.

"Jennifer, I have some bad news. The office is in chaos—the boss's precious assistant is about to commit suicide!"

"She said she's let you, the boss, and the company down! You should see her performance—it's Oscar-worthy."

Listening to my assistant, I finally understood. The reason Ross left wasn't that he had decided to stop wasting his time on me. No, there was something else, someone else in the company who had his full attention, someone he needed to comfort.

After hanging up with my assistant, I grabbed my luggage and headed out the door.

At that moment, my assistant sent me another video. In it, a tearful Laurel was holding a paper cutter to her neck while Ross, flushed with panic, begged her to put the blade down.

Watching their drama unfold on screen, I couldn't help but feel a wave of disgust. Their childish, melodramatic behavior was unbearable.

My phone rang—Ross was calling. I answered, and the chaos on the other end hit me immediately.

"Jennifer, you need to come to the company. Just forgive Laurel and delete your Twitter post, and this whole thing will blow over."

I asked with annoyance, my dislike for both of them growing with each word, "What does this have to do with me?"

I couldn't believe they still wanted to drag me into this.

Ross was clearly caught off guard by my response. There was a brief silence on the line before I heard Laurel, still crying, shouting that she was willing to die if that was what it would take for me to forgive her. She went on to say that stealing my credit during the presentation had been a necessary evil—she was a newcomer, after all, and needed good credentials.

Who hadn't been a newcomer once? Why was it that Laurel could take what wasn't hers just because she was Ross's lover?

Ross spoke again, his voice firm, "Jennifer, if you don't resolve this today—if anything happens to Laurel—then it's over between us. For good."

How resolute. It was almost as if I were hearing echoes of him from five years ago. Back then, his family had disapproved of him starting his own business and was strongly against our relationship. At that time, he'd been just as stubborn, threatening to sever ties with his family and forcing them to cave in.

At that time, I was the one he fought for. Now, it was Laurel.

How pathetic.

"Ross, I'll delete the post. But not because of you or Laurel. It's for the people who've put their work into this project. As for us, like you said, it's better to cut ties now."

Ross didn't seem to hear the last part of my sentence. When he heard that I was willing to delete my Twitter post, he let out a sigh of relief and immediately began thanking me.

"Jennifer, I knew you'd come through. Thank you for helping with this."

After hanging up, I deleted the post, just as I had said I would.

Soon, my assistant sent an update on the situation at the company. After seeing that I'd removed the post, Laurel had dropped the blade, and the two of them embraced, as if they were star-crossed lovers who had just survived a near-death experience.

I scoffed as I watched the video, then started my car and drove straight to the airport.

On the way, I called a private investigator I knew and asked him to dig into Laurel's background.

The day before our scheduled wedding, I received the information I had requested. Just as I had suspected, Laurel's past was anything but clean.

She hadn't been hospitalized due to a heart condition, as everyone had been told. No, she had passed out after getting too carried away with two men.

Her motives for joining Ross's company had never been pure. She had planned to collaborate with others to buy shares at a low price, then profit once the company's projects took off and the stock prices soared.

But the company's most important project was mine to lead. Now that I had resigned, the project was stalled, and Laurel's plan had completely fallen apart.

Laurel knew all this, which was why she had resorted to using Ross to try and force me into cleaning up the mess.

I read through the files with a feeling of mockery bubbling up inside me.

The wedding day arrived.

Ross's wedding planners had already set up the venue, and he was dressed in a tuxedo, looking sharp.

Only a handful of guests had arrived, and Ross immediately sensed something was wrong when he realized none of my family or friends had shown up.

Everything about the wedding had been left to me to handle—everything except the arrangements by the wedding company and the guests Ross had invited.

But I hadn't even thought about marrying him since the day my mother passed away.

This wedding, from start to finish, had been his dream, not mine.

Ross had no idea, though. By the time he stepped into that church, I was already on a plane to Euchoth. I had already left him and everything related to him behind.

I'd blocked all his contact information. I was never one to drag things out.