Before the contract was even signed, the client's representative casually said he was craving pancakes with maple syrup.

I didn't hesitate. I texted my fiancé, Nigel Cross, and asked him to stand in line and grab some.

He came back with the box, all proud of himself.

The client took one bite, and within seconds, his face went red. Hives bloomed across his neck.

He shot to his feet, furious, and called the whole deal off on the spot.

Then he turned around and handed the million-dollar order to Olivia Field, the intern who had rushed to grab him allergy meds.

Three months of grinding work were gone just like that.

I stood there, my throat tight, trying not to fall apart.

Nigel squeezed my shoulder, his voice soft as he said, "It was just bad luck. Don't beat yourself up."

I nodded weakly, drained of energy.

But the second I stepped away, I heard him laughing in the break room with his friend.

"That guy's seriously allergic to mango. Good thing I added mango syrup to the pancakes. Olivia's about to score a huge year-end bonus. Enough for a down payment on her new apartment."

His friend hesitated.

"Melissa hasn't slept in a month over that deal. She was working while she was sick. She needed that money for her mom's surgery—"

Nigel waved him off, already annoyed.

"She has me. Isn't that enough? Olivia earned this."

My hands curled into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

Bad luck? Yeah, right.

Nigel had planned every second of it.

And now, he thought he could smooth it over by marrying me someday, toss me a few cheap words, and I would just swallow it.

I was done with that disgusting man.

I opened social media, and the first thing I saw was Olivia Field's new post.

[Still can't believe I just bought my first very own apartment!]

In the photo, she was holding up the paperwork, smiling as if she had won the lottery.

The comment that burned the most was from my fiancé, Nigel Cross.

[Congrats! You're amazing!]

I actually laughed.

I had spent five years in this field without a single vacation day.

The second before my mother was wheeled into surgery, I was still answering client emails.

At my lowest, I sat in a hospital chair with an IV in my arm, negotiating over video call.

People saw how hard I worked. But they didn't see that I was holding my whole family together alone.

After my mother got sick, my younger siblings' tuition, the rent, and the bills for our small 900-square-foot apartment all landed on me.

The medical bills, costing tens of thousands, almost crushed me.

I drank at client dinners until my stomach bled. I fainted in the office more than once.

Nigel knew all of it.

When I worked past midnight and couldn't get a ride home, he picked me up.

When I came back drunk and exhausted, he carried me to bed.

When clients made impossible demands, he helped me figure out a way through.

And still, when I needed that money more than air, he stabbed me in the back.

He knew losing my mother was my worst fear.

But he still handed over the deal I nearly killed myself for to Olivia.

In his mind, she was alone in this city and deserved a home.

But what about me?

I was drowning in debt and about to lose the only parent I had left.

The tears came before I could stop them.

My phone rang. It was the doctor.

"I'm sorry. We did everything we could. Your mother has stopped breathing. If the surgery had happened sooner, there might've been a chance."

The world went quiet.

After that, I moved like a machine, moving through my mother's funeral arrangements on autopilot.

Nigel called. I looked at the screen and let it ring.

Suddenly, he was so eager to find me.

The moment I walked into the office building, he was there, blocking my way.

"Where have you been? You never take time off."

There was a hint of anger and unease in his voice, as though he was afraid I was slipping out of his control.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My mind was blank.

There was a time I told Nigel everything.

Now, I didn't want to tell him anything at all.

I turned to leave. But he grabbed my arm.

"What's wrong with you? It's only been a few days. Why are you acting like this?"

Before I could answer, Olivia stepped in between us.

"Nigel, can you help me with something?"

He didn't even look at me. "Sure. What's going on?"

She lowered her head, voice small and shaky. "I paid the down payment on my new apartment last week. But I don't have money left for renovations. The contractor's pushing to start. I've asked around, and no one can lend me anything. I really don't know what to do. Could you maybe… help?"

"Of course."

He didn't hesitate.

He pulled out his phone and made a call on the spot. His tone was firm. "List the house on South Bay. I don't care about the price. Sell it today, even if we lose money. The sooner the better."

Olivia dabbed at her eyes, as if she was holding back tears. "You can't do that. That place is in such a good neighborhood. Property values are rising. Selling now would be such a waste. And that was supposed to be your future home with Melissa. She won't agree to this."

She glanced at me, eyes flickering.

Nigel's voice turned cold. "What does it matter if she agrees? It's not her house."

Then he looked straight at me. "Olivia's all alone in this city. We should help her.

"We can rent after we get married. I'm already marrying you. That should be enough."

For a second, I couldn't breathe.

In his mind, I was a woman who couldn't live without him, someone who had to marry him no matter what.

He made it sound like marrying me was some kind of sacrifice.

Did he forget he was the one who pursued me in the first place?

What hurt even more was that he was selling our future home for Olivia.

I remembered another day clearly.

My mother was in critical condition. The doctor said that if we couldn't pay, they would stop the medication.

I cried so hard that I could barely speak. I begged Nigel to lend me 50 thousand and told him I would sign an IOU.

He said, "That house is all I have. I'm not selling it. Not a chance."

Now, Olivia just needed money to redo her floors and kitchen, and he was ready to dump the place without blinking. He even said losing money didn't matter.

So that was the difference.

My mother's life wasn't worth as much as Olivia's renovation.

My face felt numb. My voice came out steady. "It's your house. Sell it if you want."

He frowned, looking as if he wanted to argue, but he didn't.

I turned again. But he caught my wrist.

"I've been tied up wrapping up projects," he said quietly. "This Saturday, I'll go visit your mom. She always wanted to see us get married. We can talk about the wedding and start planning."

Something twisted in my chest.

He hadn't visited her once throughout her hospital stay.

When my mother asked about him, he was either busy helping Olivia move, or driving her to buy furniture, or picking out appliances with her.

Now, she was gone.

And he said he would go see her.

I took a slow breath and looked at him. "There's no need."

I didn't look back. I just walked faster until he was behind me, and the street swallowed me up.

When I got back to my empty studio apartment, my phone rang.

It was a friend. She said a headhunting firm had reached out. They wanted me and were offering triple my current salary. She asked if I would consider it.

"Yes," I said.

I didn't hesitate.

There was nothing left for me in this suffocating city.

The next morning, I went to the office and submitted my resignation.

That same evening, our department manager organized a team dinner at a bar a few blocks away.

Halfway through the night, someone suggested we play Truth or Dare.

The bottle ended up pointing at Olivia. She picked dare, and they challenged her to kiss a man of her choice.

Her eyes swept across the table, quick and deliberate, before stopping on Nigel.

"I'll pick Mr. Cross," she said with a teasing smile. "Don't take it seriously. It's just a game."

The bar went quiet.

I remembered another party years ago. A girl had confessed to Nigel in front of everyone. He didn't refuse her right away and even accepted the glass of champagne she handed him.

I grabbed the glass straight from his hand and dumped it into a nearby planter.

I had always been ruthless about boundaries. Cross the line, and I would rather burn everything down than pretend it didn't matter.

My coworkers glanced at me, waiting for a reaction.

I simply smiled, lifted my glass of water, and drained it in one go. Then I started clapping.

"Go ahead," I said lightly. "Let's keep the game going. Don't kill the mood."

People stared, stunned. No one expected that from me.

Nigel's expression shifted from cautious curiosity to outright shock. He opened his mouth, as if he wanted to stop it, but my applause drowned him out.

Olivia froze for half a second, clearly thrown off by my calm reaction, then quickly recovered her sweet smile.

She looped her arms around Nigel's neck and kissed him.

For a brief moment, he hesitated.

Then he kissed her back, and he didn't stop. The longer it lasted, the more he leaned into it.

The cheers around us grew louder, but the sound felt distant, as if it couldn't reach me at all.

I suddenly remembered a long-ago night when a girl had stolen a kiss from Nigel while he was drunk. I cried the entire night after finding out, my eyes swollen by morning.

He kneeled in front of me then and said, "I swear I'll never touch another woman but you."

Now he was kissing someone else right in front of me.

That promise meant nothing.

Even though I had already decided to walk away, the pain still pressed against my chest until breathing felt hard.

A few minutes later, they finally pulled apart, both flushed.

Olivia wiped the corner of her mouth, a hint of triumph hiding behind her polite tone. "Sorry, Melissa. It was just a game. Don't be mad."

Her words sounded apologetic, but her eyes were full of open challenge.

Nigel gripped the edge of his shirt, clearly bracing for me to explode like I used to.

I calmly set down my utensils, picked up a napkin, and wiped my lips.

"It's fine," I said evenly. "As long as everyone's having fun."

I gave them a faint, almost polite smile.

The tension drained from Nigel's face. Then something else replaced it.

Disappointment.

He looked at me as if he didn't recognize me anymore.

After finishing the resignation paperwork, I went home and started packing for Kentonshire.

Then I remembered something.

In the house Nigel had sold, there was a rocking chair my mother had built by hand. She had made it as a wedding gift for me.

Now, it was the only thing she had left behind.

I decided to go get it.

When I arrived at the house, I automatically entered my birthday as the door code.

Error.

I frowned and tried again.

Still wrong.

Thinking I had mistyped, I switched to fingerprint unlock.

Access denied.

My authorization had been removed.