Without thinking, I rushed straight into the middle of the fight, trying to pull Tommy and Roger apart.

I couldn't let my friends take the fall because of me.

But in the chaos, Roger's eyes went wild. He grabbed a heavy-duty stapler off the desk and swung it at Tommy's head with everything he had.

"Watch out!"

My vision narrowed. Instinct kicked in, and I threw myself forward, raising my arm to shield Tommy. The metal prongs of the stapler drove straight into my forearm.

Roger yanked it back. Blood immediately soaked through my sleeve.

The pain was blinding. Cold sweat broke out all over me. My arm went numb, as if it wasn't even part of my body anymore.

The fight stopped instantly. Everyone stared at my arm in horror.

Chelsea froze as well. She looked at the wound, panic flickering across her face.

For a second, I thought she would say something. Anything.

But she didn't.

"Will, do you really have to take it this far?"

Her cold, disappointed gaze cut deeper than the metal ever did.

"It's Donald's first day as sales director, and you lead your people into a group fight just to send him a message? Are you trying to turn the company upside down?"

My guys only snapped because they were furious that I was being shortchanged. But to her, I was the one deliberately stirring things up and starting a brawl.

"Donald provoked us first," I said. "Chelsea, you only see who threw the first punch. Didn't you see Roger grabbing office equipment and trying to hurt someone with it?"

I stared at her, disbelief setting in.

But Donald leaned against her shoulder, his face full of grievance.

"Chels, this is on me," he said softly. "I just stepped into the sales director role and wanted to tighten things up a little. I didn't expect everyone to be so used to listening to your husband that they'd resent me this much. I guess that's why things got out of hand…"

His voice trailed off, but my mind snagged on one word.

Chels.

She once told me that once her debt was finally paid off, she would give herself to me.

I respected her boundaries and never pushed. We treated each other with careful restraint.

Even at the office, we addressed each other formally. Even when we ate together in the cafeteria, we kept our distance.

And now Donald was calling her Chels, leaning against her shoulder.

Meanwhile, I stood there bleeding, a complete wreck.

"Will, you're being too impulsive," Chelsea said, frowning at me. "Donald has a stronger educational background and overseas experience. He understands the market better than you. Out of jealousy, you caused all this trouble and slowed down my ability to make money. The handover's delayed again. Go get your arm treated. When you're back, send him all the materials he asked for."

Blood dripped from my fingertips onto the floor. Yet, it still didn't come close to the pain in my chest.

Seven years.

To pay off her debt, I hadn't had a meal that cost more than ten dollars in years.

My newest clothes were five years old, worn again and again, just to make do.

And in the end, all she cared about was whether Donald's work was running smoothly. For his sake, she even wanted me out of the way.

Watching how firmly she protected him, I suddenly laughed.

So the Cratesisle sunshine and the wedding plans were nothing but a fantasy.

Now, that fantasy was over.

It was time for me to leave.

"Alright," I said hoarsely. "I'll do everything exactly the way you want."

-

By the time my arm was treated at the hospital, it was already late at night.

On impulse, I didn't go home. I drove back to the office instead.

On my desk sat the photo of myself and Chelsea, crying with happiness, the day she accepted my proposal. I wanted to take it with me, to bury these ridiculous seven years for good.

The office was pitch-dark, except for the light still on in the CEO's office.

Wanting to say a final goodbye to Chelsea, I walked up to the door and reached for the handle.

That was when I heard her voice, trembling with tears and something indistinct underneath.

"Donald, don't. We can't do this…"

My hand froze in midair.

Through the narrow gap in the door, I caught sight of Donald pressing Chelsea hard against the floor-to-ceiling window.

Beyond the glass, the city glowed in endless layers of light.

Inside that room was my wife, tangled in an intimate moment with another man.

Donald bent down and brushed his lips along her neck, his voice low and raw with desire.

"Chels, you've loved me all this time. Why did you end up marrying that deadweight instead? From middle school until now, you've never forgotten me. When are you finally gonna dump Will and come back to me?"

Chelsea leaned her head back slightly and drew an uneven breath before answering.

"Don't push me, Donald. When my dad jumped, he left behind millions in debt. Will stayed and paid every cent. I can't turn my back on him."

"Then what about me?"

Donald tightened his grip around her waist, his eyes rimmed with red.

"I came back the second I graduated, and you were already someone else's wife. What does that make me? Just this once," he murmured. "Chelsea, be mine. Let's finally live out the dream we lost when we were young."

While I was scraping by, suffering through everything alongside Chelsea, he had been overseas, living without a care in the world.

Now that things were finally turning around, he came back not only to take what I had built, but my wife as well.

The audacity!

Every nerve in my body urged me to burst through the door and rip them apart.

Just as I was about to move, Chelsea spoke again, rooting me to the spot. Her breathing was uneven, her voice low and strained.

"Alright. Just this once. After tonight, I'll be Will's woman completely. I'll lock down SkyTech Group's contract and give him the wedding in Cratesisle that he deserves. Promise me you'll…"

Before she could finish, Donald kissed her.

All the blood in my body turned ice-cold.

How could she sleep with another man and still plan to be my wife afterward?

What was I to her? A walking ATM to clean up her messes, or a trash bin that would take anything she threw at me?

Anger and disgust surged in me, making my whole body tremble. I almost lost control and charged in.

Just as I lifted my foot, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from Victor Smart, the CEO of SkyTech Group.

[Mr. Conner, when can you start? We need you to host the bidding conference in three days.]

I looked at the two bodies tangled together on the couch, my chest tight with pain, and replied, [Tomorrow.]

I had a future worth fighting for.

I had a future that was worth protecting.

Throwing that away just to punch Donald wasn't worth it.

I took a steadying breath, slipped out quietly, went home, and packed the few things I owned.

I left my signed resignation letter and the divorce papers on the table. Resting on top was the wedding ring I bought for Chelsea with two years' worth of salary.

This time, it was truly over.

-

Three days later…

The SkyTech Group bidding conference was packed to the brim.

Chelsea wore a tailored designer suit, her makeup flawless. Upon closer inspection, her exhaustion still showed beneath the polish.

"What's wrong?" Donald said softly, his lips a mocking smile, his arm draped around her shoulders. "Still thinking about that loser, Will?"

"Don't say that," she replied. "He hasn't come home in three days…"

There was a flicker of unease in her voice. She frowned, then abruptly froze.

Not far away, I stood in a perfectly fitted suit, calmly chatting with several senior executives.

"Will!"

She rushed over, nearly out of control. She grabbed my arm, anger blazing in her eyes.

"Where have you been? Why didn't you come home for three days? What are you trying to pull, disappearing like that?!"

I looked at her with quiet detachment, as if she were a stranger.

"Well, well."

Donald followed close behind, contempt written all over his face.

"So you finally crawl out after hiding for three days? You're pushing thirty-five. Getting phased out was inevitable. What company would still want you? Chelsea keeping you around was already charity. Who are you trying to impress?"

I didn't answer. I didn't even bother pulling my arm free from Chelsea's grip.

I simply lifted my other hand and pointed toward the stage behind them.

"No company wants me, huh? Why don't you take a look at whose name is printed on the chairperson's podium?" I sneered.

Chelsea and Donald followed my gesture.

The moment they saw the nameplate on the evaluation committee table, the color drained from their faces.