I stepped forward, fury rising through me.

"Take it off."

Winifred flinched and shrank back, her eyes reddening even more.

"Mrs. Sanchez, what are you doing..."

I stared at the necklace, every word deliberate.

"Taking what isn't yours without asking is stealing."

Her face went white. She clutched the necklace, lips trembling like she was about to cry.

"Mr. Sanchez gave this to me. I didn't steal it. If you like it so much, here, just take it."

She yanked it hard. The chain snapped, and a thin line of blood rose across her neck.

Asher pulled Winifred behind him in one swift motion, shielding her like she was something precious.

He turned to me, brow furrowed, voice sharp.

"Aileen, are you done making a scene?"

"It's just a necklace. Was it really worth bullying a young woman over?"

I looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

"Just a necklace?"

A laugh scraped out of me, hollow, my chest so tight it had gone numb.

"Asher, you know exactly what it means to me!"

Something shifted in his expression, but the moment Winifred's soft sobbing reached him, whatever hesitation he had vanished.

"She helped the company land a major deal. It was a reward for an outstanding employee. You're the boss's wife. Can't you show a little grace?"

I scoffed.

The secretary who tanked projects and flirted her way up the ladder. Outstanding employee.

"Since when does a secretary get my things handed out as a bonus?"

The crowd around us fell silent, then the murmuring started, rippling outward.

Passersby recognized me, whispering among themselves.

"Isn't that the Pruitt heiress? Why is she fighting with Mr. Sanchez?"

"They'll work it out. She was crazy about him back in the day. And let's be honest, without the Pruitt family, he wouldn't be where he is now, so..."

Asher's face cycled between white and livid. His eyes snapped to mine, cold and foreign.

"Aileen, don't push it! Without me, you're nothing!"

The words hit like a physical blow. My ears rang.

I stared at him, unable to process what I'd just heard.

When he had nothing, I married him against my family's wishes and told him I believed in him.

Later, my parents overruled every objection to back him, placing all of Pruitt Group in his hands.

When my parents died in the car accident, I cried myself hollow for days, and he held me and choked out a promise.

"Aileen, I'll be the one you lean on for the rest of your life. I'll protect you the way your parents would have."

Now, he stood there and told me.

Without him, I was nothing.

He didn't look at me again. He wrapped his arm around Winifred's pale shoulders and walked away.

Every gaze around me landed at once. Mockery. Pity. Secondhand embarrassment.

I didn't shed a single tear. I picked up the broken necklace and left.

Because when love dies, there's nothing left to hurt.

The next morning, I went straight to the Southgate project bidding conference.

Every seat in the venue was taken. Asher sat in the front row, radiating confidence.

Winifred sat beside him, smugness written all over her face.

The host's voice rang out, bright and enthusiastic.

"Next, may we welcome the representative from Sanchez Group, Ms. Winifred Taylor, to the stage to present the Southgate project proposal!"

Winifred rose slowly under the weight of every gaze in the room. She wore an apricot-colored blazer dress, her long hair swept up in a chignon. Gone was the wide-eyed innocent act she usually put on.

Asher gave her hand a gentle pat, his eyes soft as water, murmuring encouragement.

"Don't be nervous. I'm right here. Just do it the way you practiced."

That protective look on his face was identical to the one he'd worn years ago, after my parents died and my uncles tried to force me to hand over the family estate. He'd stood beside me then, shielding me from all of it.

Back then, he'd said the same thing: "Don't be nervous. I'm right here."

The only difference now was who he'd chosen to protect.

Winifred let out a long breath and walked to the podium.

"For the Southgate development, my design philosophy centers on building a city that gives people a sense of belonging. In our major metropolitan areas, we see endless traffic and concrete. But everyone carries a private vision of somewhere quieter, somewhere that feels like home..."

She grew more assured with every sentence. The slides advanced one after another, revealing renderings filled with warmth and human-centered design.

I sat in the audience, and all I felt was the absurdity of it.

Asher had handed her the work I'd poured countless sleepless nights into, and now she stood in front of everyone, speaking about "belonging" as if the word had ever meant anything to her.

None of them knew why I'd chosen that word. The Southgate parcel was a wedding gift from my grandmother to my mother. I'd grown up there.

That land carried a meaning for me that no one in this room could replicate.

Winifred's confidence swelled with every slide. Her smile stretched wider, as though the contract was already signed.

"Sanchez Group brings substantial capital, a world-class team, and the full backing of Mr. Sanchez himself. We will exceed every expectation and deliver the Southgate project flawlessly!"

She finished with a deep bow.

Applause erupted across the venue. Several investors nodded approvingly.

The host stepped forward and took the microphone, beaming.

"Thank you, Ms. Taylor, for that outstanding presentation! Now, let's hear from Mr. Sanchez."

Asher stood. Polished. Commanding. Every inch the CEO.

His gaze settled on Winifred onstage, brimming with open favoritism and admiration.

"I have to say, I'm impressed. Ms. Taylor is remarkably talented for her age. Her positioning of the project is precise, her planning is clear, and her vision is bold, innovative, and full of potential."

"As the CEO of Sanchez Group, I will commit every resource at our disposal to the Southgate project and to supporting her. In my view, Ms. Taylor's proposal is, without question, the strongest candidate at today's conference."

The applause that followed was louder than before, crashing through the room like a wave.

Winifred stood at the podium, her cheeks flushed, gazing down at Asher with a look of undisguised adoration and triumph. She looked every bit the golden girl, cherished and elevated by a powerful man.

Whispers rippled through the audience. The consensus was clear: Winifred had already won.

I sat in my corner, ice spreading through my veins, and felt the last flicker of hope inside me go dark.

He used to look at me that way. He used to call me a genius, used to exhaust every beautiful word in his vocabulary on me.

The host, seeing no objections, smiled and spoke up.

"Thank you for your endorsement, Mr. Sanchez. Since there are no objections from any party, I will now make the announcement."

"The Southgate parcel project is officially awarded to Ms. Winifred Taylor!"

The spotlight found Winifred. Joy spilled across her face unchecked as she threw her arms around Asher, and in that moment, they were the center of the universe.

Thunderous applause filled the room.

I drew a long breath. And in the moment the house lights came up, I rose to my feet. "I object."

My voice hit the room like a boulder dropped into still water.

Every pair of eyes snapped toward me.

Onstage, the smile on Asher's face froze solid.