Cyril's POV

The night before the company went public, Shirley Davison couldn’t wait to throw a celebration party. She even had her secretary hand out double the usual year-end bonuses in cash.

Digby Goodwin handed everyone a neatly wrapped envelope stuffed with bills, flashing his usual grin. But when it came to me, he shoved me aside.

"Out of the way. Good dogs don’t block the path."

I frowned. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering, he sneered and smacked a termination letter against my chest.

"You think a scumbag who toys with women deserves a bonus? Get lost before you taint the air we breathe."

Suddenly, the big screen behind him lit up with a slideshow of photos — me and various female clients, caught in what looked like intimate moments. Then, the bonus list appeared. My eyes burned as I scanned the numbers. Everyone else had received five-figure bonuses. My row? A glaring red zero.

I clenched my fists, my gaze locking onto Shirley, who stood across the room.

"You’re really firing me tonight?"

——

The photos kept flashing — me walking side by side with women, toasting drinks, and one particularly damning shot of a woman wrapping her arms around my waist as we entered a hotel.

Shirley shifted her gaze from the screen to me, her expression cold and unreadable.

"You sure about this?" I asked again, my voice steady but low.

The room fell silent. Everyone's eyes darted toward her, some filled with pity, others with curiosity. But she ignored them and slowly approached me, her face twisted with disdain.

"Cyril, what right do you have to stay here? Everyone else worked their asses off for this company. You? You’re the only exception."

"What, am I short on your money? Your love? Is that why you’re humiliating me like this? Don’t tell me those women are the reason you never let me handle client relations."

Her eyes flashed with anger as she yanked a stack of photos from her pocket and hurled them at me. The edges sliced across my face before scattering onto the floor. A sharp sting followed, and when I touched my cheek, my fingers came away red.

"Taking this company public has been my lifelong dream. I won’t let a parasite like you ruin it — not even if you’re my fiancé!"

I stared at the woman I once loved, convinced she misunderstood. Keeping my voice calm, I explained, "Shirley, you know me. Others might not believe me, but you? My results speak for themselves. Those pictures have nothing to do with my performance."

"Oh really?" Digby cut in, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "What kind of performance are we talking about? Bedroom skills? Word is, you’ve gotten real close with that big-time client."

Laughter rippled through the crowd, followed by whispers.

"Yeah, who knows how many beds he crawled into for those numbers. And to think we used to look up to him."

Indeed, when you went under, everyone would turn their backs on you and even stomp on you. I just had never imagined this day would come.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to stay calm.

"Those photos don’t prove anything. It was strictly business."

"Strictly business, huh?" Digby bent down and picked up the hotel photo. "Care to explain this one? It's a screenshot of the high-res video. Should I pull it up for everyone to see?"

I stared at the photo in his hand and let out a soft laugh.

The woman in that picture? She was my sister.

That night, I got drunk and meant to call Shirley to pick me up. But instead, I dialed my sister.

Cyril's POV

My sister had come to the city that night, sent by our parents to talk some sense into me, hoping I'd stop being so stubborn. She arrived just in time to pull me out of a dicey situation with a group of women who clearly had other intentions. Who would've thought that taking me to a hotel to sleep it off would get twisted into this mess?

It made sense now. Ever since that night, Shirley's attitude toward me had been strange — hot one moment, cold the next. She'd kept it together long enough for me to land all those major clients for her, and to help her push the company to the brink of going public. Only now, on the eve of her big success, did she decide to strike.

Sure, her lack of trust stung, but she was the first woman I'd ever truly cared about. I didn't want a misunderstanding to tear us apart. More than that, I didn't want my parents to find out that my first real shot at love had crashed and burned. After all, I'd left my hometown to escape the marriage they'd arranged for me.

I wanted to choose my own path, to find someone to walk beside me as an equal, not be shackled to some business merger disguised as a relationship. I'd never told anyone, not even Shirley. I was afraid that if she knew I came from money, she'd feel insecure and overwhelmed by expectations.

Every woman I'd met back home only saw me for my status. But Shirley... when she looked at me, her eyes sparkled like I was the only person in the world. Remembering those moments brought a bitter smile to my face.

"What's so funny?" Shirley's voice cut through my thoughts, sharp and laced with disgust. "You really think now is the time to laugh?"

I met her gaze, steady and unflinching. "Do you really believe I'm some gigolo who slept his way to the top?"

She scoffed. "What else am I supposed to think? Do you honestly believe there's anything about you worth respecting?"

Her words squeezed my heart like a vice. I took a deep breath, fighting the sting of betrayal. "The woman in that photo... she's my sister."

Laughter erupted around us, harsh and mocking.

"Your sister?" Digby sneered, then laughed hard. "What, every woman you sleep with is suddenly your 'sister'? Gotta admit, that adds a spicy twist to your sob story."

The crowd's jeers grew louder, someone even whistling in approval. Meanwhile, Shirley's eyes burned with contempt. "Enough! Take your severance and get out. From this moment on, we're nothing to each other!"

I clenched the dismissal notice in my fist, feeling a coldness seeping into my bones. Five years. Five years of hiding who I was, working in the shadows to help her build this empire, only to be cast aside like garbage the moment she no longer needed me.

Fine. If she wanted me gone, I'd go. I'd consider those five years a gift to a woman who never really saw me.

I turned toward her and, with a low and steady voice, said, "Shirley, you'll regret this."

But instead of taking it seriously, she simply laughed. "Regret? The only thing I regret is ever wasting my time on a worthless scumbag like you."

She then reached out to Digby and they exchanged smug smiles. Hand in hand, they made their way to the stage. Only then did I notice their matching outfits — his tailored suit and her plunging gown, a perfectly coordinated set.

Shirley raised their joined hands high, her voice ringing out confidently, "Tomorrow marks the most important day in our company's history — we're going public! But of course, none of this would've been possible without the hard work of everyone here. May we continue to achieve greatness together!"

As such, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause.

Cyril's POV

The sound of applause and praise for Shirley and Digby as the "golden couple" echoed through the hall, grating against my ears. Her gaze swept past me without a flicker of recognition, as if I were nothing more than a stranger.

Watching the woman I had loved for five years, I finally understood why my parents always said I had terrible judgment. Turns out, they were right — I’d been blind. I never noticed that Digby, her assistant, had been involved with her all along.

But just because I was blind didn’t mean I was powerless. As the eldest son of my family, I had the means to raise her up, but I could also as easily bring her crashing down. Let’s see how long this company lasts after it goes public without me.

Clenching the dismissal notice in my hand, I turned to leave this suffocating place. But before I could take a step, Manager Simon Richards from HR blocked my path, wearing that fake smile of his.

"Cyril, no need to rush off just yet," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose with a calculated smirk. "Company policy requires you to sign a declaration before leaving. It states that any actions you took while working here have no connection to the company. Oh, and there’s also a non-compete agreement you need to sign. Can’t have you running off and poaching our clients with underhanded tactics."

Once, everyone here treated me with respect. Back when I was known as Shirley's fiancé, the man who could land the biggest deals, people like Simon practically bowed in my presence. He even used to call me "boss" with his head down and voice low.

Now, he was looking down his nose at me, desperate to reclaim some sense of superiority. I scoffed, meeting his gaze coldly.

"A declaration? A non-compete? What makes you think I'd sign either?"

Simon's fake smile vanished and his voice sharpened as he shot back, "What makes us think so? How about all the shady things you’ve done? The company isn't even pressing charges. Consider yourself lucky. Don’t push it."

"Shady things?" I laughed dryly. "You got proof? Or are you basing this on a few misleading photos?"

"Proof?" A sneering voice cut in. Digby strolled over, pointing at my phone. "The proof is probably in there. Who knows how many client contacts you've saved, ready to lure them away the moment you leave?"

Before I could react, Simon lunged for my phone and yanked it from my hand.

"Give that back!" I snapped, but Digby took it from Simon, stepping back with a smug grin.

"Look how panicked you are. Seems like there really is something you don’t want us to see," he taunted.

He tried unlocking my phone, guessing at the password. Shirley joined him, suggesting combinations of birthdays and anniversaries, but none worked. Frustrated, she grabbed the phone herself and ordered security to hold me still while she tried using facial recognition.

But after too many failed attempts, they finally realized only the password could unlock it.

"What’s the password?" she demanded.

Since we became a couple, my phone's password had always been the day I initially declared my love to her.

It was amusing how she forgot. But it wasn't no longer surprising.

The longer she couldn't unlock my lock, the more embarrassed she got.

Now vexed, she tried turning the tables on me, accusing me, "You kept denying the photos, then why did you change your password?"

But instead of feeling on edge, I only stared at her, feeling a strange emptiness. "It’s the date I first confessed my feelings to you."

She froze for a long time. Clearly, she couldn't remember it.

While she stood there, stewing in embarrassment, I wrenched myself free from the guards and snatched my phone back from her hands.