"Good! Just great!"

Joanna Swanson glared at me, her face twisted in a sneer. "Rose Floyd, you really think you've grown wings, don't you? The netizens were right—you were just biding your time, stealing our skills until you felt tough enough to fly the coop! Mr. Rowe is kind-hearted enough to give you a chance, but I don't give a damn!"

She shoved me hard.

I stumbled back a few steps before regaining my balance. Calmly, I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and held her gaze without blinking.

"Joanna, are you sure you want to fire me? Does Mr. Rowe know about this?"

"The six accounts currently under my management—"

A cold, derisive laugh cut me off. "I can swap anyone into that seat and the accounts will run just fine! Don't think you're irreplaceable."

She stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. "And don't give me that 'I'm operations' nonsense. So what? I can recruit a random operations assistant online for pennies. Do you honestly think it has to be you?"

Her eyes narrowed. "And don't even think about running to Blake Rowe to save your job. He's on a business trip and won't be back until tomorrow."

She looked me up and down with undisguised contempt. "Or... you can apologize right now. Admit you were wrong, beg for forgiveness, and I might consider letting you stay."

That arrogant posture. That tilt of her chin.

A hollow numbness spread through my chest. Whatever loyalty I had left evaporated like morning dew.

"Fine," I said evenly. "Have the company issue my termination notice."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Joanna's face. She frowned, but her sharp tongue didn't falter. "Playing hard to get? You think I won't do it?"

She marched to the printer, grabbed a termination form, stamped it with the official company seal, and slapped it onto my chest.

"Pack your trash and get out! I want to see what kind of job you can possibly find with that attitude!"

I walked to my desk in silence.

Two years. I had spent two years of my life here, yet everything I owned fit into a single medium-sized box.

The elevator doors slid shut behind me. A wave of melancholy washed over me as I stepped out of the building. My initial ambitions when I joined this company had ended in an unceremonious firing.

My phone buzzed. Blake Rowe had rejected my resignation request in the system.

He called.

I let it ring.

Moments later, a text popped up:

*【Rose, don't mind Joanna. She's just blowing off steam. You've watched this company grow from the ground up—I wouldn't feel comfortable handing those accounts to anyone else.】*

*【I'll be back tomorrow. Take these two days as a paid vacation. We'll talk when I return.】*

I stared at the screen and let out a dry laugh.

Their favorite routine. Good Cop, Bad Cop. A psychological game designed to break me down and build me back up in their image.

Joanna would strip away my self-worth, calling me useless, and then Blake would swoop in with crumbs of validation. A classic manipulation tactic to make me believe that they were the only two people on earth willing to employ me.

I didn't reply.

The next day, I sat across from Isabella Lambert.

"I specialize in operations," I said, introducing myself. "At my previous company, I managed all six major accounts—"

A knowing smile stopped me mid-sentence. "I know. Your accounts are case studies in our training program. The moment I saw your name on the resume, I knew exactly who you were."

Her eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Within two months of taking over, you made a single video generate a hundred thousand dollars in revenue."

She leaned forward. "Our base pay for operations is $8,000 during probation, rising to $10,000 once you're permanent. We strictly observe all holidays. Performance reviews happen every two months, so there's significant room for advancement."

A pause. "Are you interested? I can send the offer letter right now."

I nodded, my voice steady but sincere. "Of course. It would be an honor to work with you."

"However," I added, "I still need to finalize things with my previous employer. Although I have the stamped termination paper, the CEO rejected my resignation application in the system..."

Isabella smiled. "Not a problem. Let's leave the start date open for a moment. I'll send the offer invitation immediately so your old company can't guilt-trip you into staying."

Walking out of her office, the heavy stone that had been crushing my chest for two years suddenly vanished.

When I had previously mentioned resigning to Blake, he had looked at me with disappointed eyes and said...

"I hired you because I saw potential in you. I thought you were willing to endure hardship to achieve greatness. Do you think the outside world will give you the time to find your potential?"

That was what Blake had said.

Even though I had already built a successful account by then, his words had worked. I stayed.

I became cheap labor.

I became their office nanny.

The next morning, I walked into Blake Rowe's office and placed a photocopy of the termination notice on his desk.

"Mr. Rowe, this is a copy of my termination. Joanna didn't have time to print a formal copy for you yesterday, so I brought it myself."

Blake didn't even glance at it. He snatched the paper and tore it into shreds, his expression indifferent.

"Rose, didn't I tell you? Joanna wasn't being serious. The company has always viewed you as a talent to be cultivated. Why would we ever fire you?"

I reached into my bag and pulled out another photocopy. My voice remained calm.

"Mr. Rowe, I am serious. If you tear this one up, I have ten more."

Blake's face darkened. Beside him, Joanna rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with provocation.

"Rose Floyd, drop the act."

She scoffed. "Blake gave you a paid day off yesterday—is that not enough? Or are you trying to claim you found a new job in less than twenty-four hours? Who are you trying to fool?"

Blake sighed, feigning impatience. "Ms. Floyd, stop making a scene. If it makes you feel better, I'll have Joanna apologize. You've been here two years—can you really bear to walk away?"

I silently pulled out my phone and opened the digital offer letter.

"I really have found a new job. I only came today to clarify things, for the sake of our two years as colleagues."

Blake leaned in to look at the document. As he read the signed offer, his brows knitted so tightly a deep furrow formed between them.

Joanna stared blankly. "That's impossible. It's only been one day!"

My girlfriend, the so-called campus beauty, suffered from erotomania. She lived in a delusional fantasy where every man she met was secretly obsessed with her.

When her condition flared, she convinced herself that a wealthy heir was sexually harassing her. In her hysteria, she beat him until he was critically injured.

Desperate to save her budding acting career, she knelt before me, begging me to take the fall. She even proposed, claiming we should get our marriage certificate immediately to prove her loyalty.

My heart softened. I agreed.

Eight years later, I walked out of prison to find she had become a washed-up has-been. Not only was she broke, but she had fallen so low she was working as a background extra.

Fueled by rage, she seized my collar, dragging us both toward the edge of the building.

"If it weren't for you, I would have married a rich heir years ago!" she screamed, the wind whipping her hair into a wild halo. "You trash—don't you dare cross my path in the next life!"

Gravity took us.

When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day she beat the heir half to death.

——

"Evan, something happened—get here, now!"

The vast whiteness of death faded. Familiar scenery materialized around me—distant, yet achingly real. My body felt weightless, but the phantom sensation of concrete shattering my bones still crackled through my nerves.

Her voice. I froze.

Before I could speak, Natalie Fox's tone shifted. Disgust dripped from every syllable.

"Actually, don't bother coming!" she snapped. "Evan Dickerson, as of today, we are done. We're breaking up!"

The line went dead.

I stared at the phone.

Natalie had been reborn too.

In the previous timeline, her delusion had driven her to assault Carter Walker, the heir. When I arrived at the scene, panic clawing at my chest, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood.

Natalie had stood there, fingertips and collar stained crimson. Behind her, a man lay crumpled on the floor, his face deathly pale, his breathing shallow.

The moment she saw me, she burst into tears.

"Evan! Only you can save me! Please!"

When I hesitated, she dropped to her knees. Her face contorted—anxiety, fear, desperation all bleeding together.

"Director Wang just cast me as the third female lead. I'm about to be famous," she sobbed. "I can't go to prison. Help me, okay?"

Her pitiful state shattered my resolve. I took the blame. I gave up eight years of my life.

And when I was released?

She picked apart my every flaw. When her career tanked and she ended up as an extra for the third time, her resentment boiled over. She blamed me for "ruining" her chance to marry into wealth.

Then she killed us both.

Eight years of sacrifice, rewarded with murder.

I spoke into the silence of the room. My voice came out flat. Dead.

"Fine. Let's break up."

Stunned silence on the other end. Then a sneer cut through.

"You were reborn too? Perfect. Saves me the trouble of inventing an excuse to dump you."

She hung up with a violent *bang*.

This was the pivotal year of her life. She had been chosen by a famous director, poised to explode into stardom with her next film.

I rubbed my thumb across the phone screen. A cold smirk tugged at my lips.

This was the most important year of my life, too.

In the original timeline, the stocks I traded had skyrocketed. I had already negotiated a partnership with angel investors. My own company was within reach.

But I had foolishly used my capital to buy Natalie a supporting role in a drama destined for massive success. That role launched her career.

For the next seven years, she produced nothing of value. She squandered her reputation and became a nobody.

And from start to finish, she never knew that money—her buy-in—came from me.

I dialed the investor.

"Mr. Dickerson," the voice on the other end said. "We're in."

My heart settled. Everything was ready.

Just then, my phone screen lit up with a notification.