Chapter 2

Mark flinched, turning red.

"Victoria, I was just... she was just..."

Victoria cut him off, her voice like ice.

"I want her out. Now."

She strolled into our living room, our shared space, and sank onto the sofa as if she owned it.

Mark, desperate to placate her, turned to me.

"Sarah, could you... could you get Victoria a glass of sparkling water?"

I stared at him, aghast. He wanted me to serve his mistress in my own home?

Victoria smirked, enjoying my humiliation.

"You know, Sarah," Victoria said, examining her nails, "your layoff wasn't just restructuring. Your performance at Innovatech was subpar. Unassertive. Lacking ambition. Purely performance-based."

Rage boiled inside me. I opened my mouth to retort, to tell her exactly what I thought of her and her "performance" as a CEO.

But Mark grabbed my arm, hard.

"Sarah, just go pack," he hissed, shoving me towards my bedroom. "Leave."

Victoria then feigned a sudden wave of nausea.

"Oh, dear," she gasped, clutching her stomach. As she "stumbled," her coffee cup tilted, its scalding contents splashing all over my shoulder and down my arm.

I cried out, more in shock and anger than pain, though it burned.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Victoria said, not sounding sorry at all. She looked at Mark, her eyes wide with fake distress.

Mark immediately rounded on me.

"Sarah! How could you upset a pregnant woman? Look what you made her do!"

I was too stunned to speak. He was blaming me?

My aversion to being messy, to sticky liquids on my skin, kicked in. I rushed to the bathroom to clean up, the coffee staining my blouse, my skin stinging.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar. I heard their voices.

"She's just so unambitious, a drag on my career," Mark was saying to Victoria, his voice dripping with a contempt I'd never heard before. "Honestly, I was planning to break up with her anyway. This just... sped things up."

Victoria laughed, a low, satisfied sound.

My heart shattered into a million pieces.

After they finally left, their laughter echoing in the hallway, I stood numbly in the ruined apartment.

Then, a cold resolve settled over me.

I packed a small bag, just a few essentials. I wasn't going to stay here another minute.

I headed to the airport. Our "celebratory vacation" was supposed to be in Napa Valley, at a luxury resort.

I decided I'd take that vacation. By myself.

As I waited at the gate, a message pinged on my phone. It was Mark.

"So sorry about everything, babe. Here's $10,000. Get a nice hotel. I booked separate rooms for the retreat, promise. We'll sort this out."

Ten thousand dollars. A pittance, considering his Innovatech salary, and an insult given my actual worth.

He still thought he could buy my silence, my compliance.

He had no idea who he was dealing with.