Chapter 2

The next morning, Anya walked into the NextGen Solutions office.

This was the company she'd poured her life into. Eighty-hour weeks were normal. She'd secured their seed funding when no venture capitalist would touch Ethan's half-baked pitches. She'd designed and overseen the development of their core technology.

Her salary was still $65,000 a year. Ethan, as CEO, took home multiples of that, plus bonuses she knew nothing about until she saw company financials.

Ethan was at his large mahogany desk, looking pleased with himself. He'd probably re-watched his Forbes interview.

He saw her and, perhaps feeling a twinge of something that might pass for guilt, or more likely, wanting to ensure her continued hard work on the critical upcoming Series B investor pitch, he tossed a small, generic-looking jewelry box across the desk at her.

"Happy early birthday, Anya."

She picked it up. Inside, nestled on cheap velvet, was a flimsy, gold-plated necklace. She recognized it. It was a freebie from a corporate gift basket he'd received last Christmas. He hadn't even bothered to re-box it.

Anya felt nothing. Not anger, not disappointment. Just a cold, flat contempt.

She placed a single document on his desk. "Need your signature on this."

Ethan, assuming it was a vendor contract or an NDA – Anya handled all of those – scribbled his name on the line without looking up.

It was her resignation letter. Effective immediately.

"I'm taking a personal leave for the next few days, by the way," Anya said, her voice even. She wouldn't be back after that.

Ethan waved a dismissive hand, already focused on his monitor. "Sure, sure. Take your time. But be back soon. That Series B funding pitch absolutely needs your touch. We're counting on it."

Anya nodded once and turned to leave his office.

As she walked through the open-plan workspace, she passed the reception desk.

Brittany Hayes was there, holding court. She was showing off her massive Tiffany yellow diamond ring to a small group of junior employees. A copy of what looked like a deed was also on the desk.

"My fiancé got this for me!" Brittany said, her voice high and carrying. "The ring alone was five million! And the penthouse in Tribeca? Priceless views! I bet you guys have probably never seen anything like it in your lives."

Some of the employees looked skeptical, others envious.

"Is it real, Brittany?" one of them asked. "Who is this mystery fiancé of yours?"

Brittany smirked, tossing her blonde hair. "Oh, you'll all find out soon enough. He's very important."

Anya knew Brittany. Ethan had hired her as an intern from a local community college. She was stunningly beautiful and stunningly incompetent. He'd tried to make Brittany Anya's assistant. Brittany couldn't manage to schedule a simple meeting or draft a coherent email. Ethan, frustrated but clearly smitten, had moved her to reception, a role created just for her.

Anya felt a chill. Twelve years of her strategic brilliance, her relentless hard work, her sacrifices... outmaneuvered by this. It was a bitter pill.

Just then, Ethan emerged from his office. "What's all this commotion about?"

He saw Anya standing near the group. "Anya? Thought you were on leave already?"

Anya offered a small, polite smile. "Just congratulating Brittany on her upcoming good fortune."

Ethan looked nervous for a split second, glancing at Brittany. "She didn't say who...?"

"Nope," Anya said. "Very mysterious."

Ethan visibly relaxed. He then turned his attention back to Anya, his CEO voice firmly in place. "Don't bother making dinner tonight, I'm out with clients. But make sure you finish that Series B pitch deck before you officially go on 'leave'. I need it on my desk ASAP."

Anya gave a noncommittal nod and walked out of the NextGen Solutions office for the last time.

She returned to the apartment and began to pack.

Meticulously. Everything company-related – laptops, files, confidential documents – she left neatly stacked on the desk in the small home office.

Her personal items filled several large suitcases. Clothes, books, a few cherished possessions.

Late that night, her phone buzzed. It was Chad.

"Anya, hey! Ethan's totally wasted at 'The Peak' rooftop bar. He's a mess. Can you get over here with some Pedialyte or something? He's in VIP suite 5." Chad hung up before she could reply.

Anya hesitated. She didn't want to see Ethan or his obnoxious friends. But then she remembered. The key. The key to the small storage unit in Edison where her grandmother's wedding sari and some family heirlooms were stored. Her mother had given them to her for her future marital home with Ethan. Ethan had the only key, having insisted on keeping it "safe."

She needed that key.

She took an Uber to The Peak.

The bar was loud, crowded, reeking of expensive perfume and desperation. The bouncer at the VIP section waved her through when she mentioned Ethan's name.

Chad, Brad, and Kyle greeted her at the door of suite 5 with jeers and laughter.

"She actually came! Dude, Ethan, you win the bet! Drinks on Chad!" Brad hooted, slapping Ethan on the back.

Ethan was lounging on a plush sofa, a drink in his hand, looking perfectly sober. He smirked at her. "Told you guys. Hundred percent she'd show. What can I say, she just can't resist me."

Anya understood. It was a bet. Again.

She remembered a similar incident years ago, when they'd faked a car accident late at night, just to see if she'd rush out to help. She had.

Kyle leaned forward, his eyes mocking. "Damn, Anya, it's like, midnight. You're always on call for him, aren't you? Such a simp. You got no self-respect at all?"

Brad snickered. "Hey, that's harsh, Kyle. She's just devoted. You know, like a golden retriever... a very *舔* retriever." He used the Chinese internet slang for a sycophant, knowing Anya understood it from her language classes. They all laughed.

Ethan watched, amused, making no move to stop them.

Anya, instead of her usual pained anger or quiet resignation, looked directly at Ethan. Her voice was calm, devoid of emotion. "The key to the Edison storage unit. If you have it on you, I need it now."

Ethan looked surprised by her composure, by the lack of tears or pleading. "Mad? Come on, Anya, they're just kidding around. Guys, apologize to Anya." He gestured vaguely at his friends.

They mumbled insincere, slurred apologies.

Anya didn't acknowledge them. "The key, Ethan?"

Ethan, puzzled by her lack of the usual reaction, reached into his pocket and tossed the key to her. She caught it.

As she turned to leave, she heard Chad's voice, clear in the sudden lull of music. "Seriously, E? Why'd you make us apologize to *her*? She's just your doormat."

Another of his friends, probably Kyle, added, "It's the push-pull, man. Gotta keep her on her toes. A little praise, a little pain. Keeps 'em hooked. Right, E?"

Ethan's reply was a low, indistinct, "Yeah..."

Anya felt a grim, cold satisfaction. Her decision was not just validated; it was screamingly obvious.

Leaving the noisy bar, she stepped out into the cool night air. As her Uber pulled up, she saw Brittany Hayes arriving, looking glamorous.

Ethan rushed down the steps from the VIP entrance, shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around Brittany's shoulders. "Baby, it's cold out here! Why are you out so late by yourself?" His voice was full of concern.

Brittany pouted prettily. "I missed you!"

Anya noticed Brittany's shoelace was undone.

Ethan, Mr. Big Shot CEO of NextGen Solutions, knelt on the pavement and carefully tied it for her. He looked up at Brittany with an expression of pure adoration.

Chad and Brad had followed them out for a smoke. Chad whistled. "Holy crap, E-man tying shoelaces? For *her*? Never thought I'd see the day."

Ethan shot Chad a glare. "Put that cigarette out! Brittany hates the smell of smoke. And watch your mouth around her, got it?"

Anya, watching from the back seat of her Uber as it pulled away, saw the stark, undeniable contrast. Ethan had never once defended her, not from his friends, not from anyone.

She returned to the apartment. She finished packing the last of her things.

Ethan stumbled in the next morning, clearly hungover, reeking of stale alcohol and Brittany's perfume.

He looked around the nearly empty living room, then at her suitcases by the door. "Where's all your stuff?"

Anya closed a suitcase. "Getting rid of old things. Things I don't need anymore."

Ethan, probably thinking about Brittany moving in soon, grunted. "Good. About time. Clear it all out then." He rubbed his temples. "Ugh, my head's killing me. Make me one of those green smoothies you do, the one with ginger... And where's that Series B pitch deck? I need to review it before the investor call Monday."

Anya picked up her purse. "I'm going out now. You can make your own smoothie. And no, the pitch deck isn't done."

She walked out the door, leaving him standing there, stunned and speechless.