Chapter 3

As I was zipping up my suitcase, Ryan appeared in the bedroom doorway. He was still wearing my mother' s scarf, a smug look on his face.

"Hey, before you go, Victoria needs you to run an errand," he said, his tone casual, as if he were speaking to a subordinate. "My suit is at the dry cleaner' s on sixth. She wants me looking my best for dinner tonight. Could you go pick it up?"

The audacity was breathtaking. He was not just the other man; he was an active participant in my humiliation, an underling gleefully wielding his newfound power. I looked at him, at the scarf around his neck, and felt a strange sense of detachment. The pain from moments before had cooled into a hard, clear resolve.

"No," I said simply.

Ryan' s smirk faltered. He clearly expected me to obey, to perform one last act of servitude before I slunk away in defeat.

"What did you say?"

"I said no," I repeated, my voice steady. I picked up my suitcase and my briefcase, which held my laptop and portfolio. "I don' t work for you. And I don' t work for her anymore."

I walked past him and headed for the door. My first priority was to make my resignation official. I needed a clean break, legally and professionally. I went straight to the Hayes Development headquarters, a gleaming skyscraper that bore Victoria' s name.

At the Human Resources department, I submitted my letter of resignation. The HR manager, a woman who had always been deferential to Victoria, looked at the letter with wide eyes.

"Mr. Miller, I... I can' t process this," she stammered. "Company policy for executive-level staff requires a direct signature from Ms. Hayes on all separation paperwork."

Of course. It was another one of Victoria' s traps, another chain to keep me bound to her. She would never sign it, not without a fight. My freedom wouldn' t be that easy.

"Where is she?" I asked, my voice tight.

"She' s at a lunch meeting at 'The Pinnacle' ," the manager replied, avoiding my gaze.

I knew the restaurant. It was one of the most exclusive, most public places in the city, a spot where the powerful went to be seen. It was the perfect stage for whatever game she was planning to play.

I took a cab to the restaurant. Through the large glass windows, I could see her. She was at a prime table, laughing with Ryan, who was now wearing the suit I was supposed to have picked up for him. She saw me approach, and a slow, triumphant smile spread across her face. She had been expecting me.

I walked to her table, the resignation form in my hand.

"Victoria, I need your signature," I said, keeping my voice low and even.

She took a slow sip of her wine, savoring the moment. The entire restaurant seemed to be watching.

"You want my signature?" she said, her voice loud enough for the surrounding tables to hear. "After you' ve been so difficult? After you' ve upset me on our anniversary?"

She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with malice.

"Fine. I' ll sign it. But first, you have to earn it."

She gestured to the floor beside her.

"Get on your knees, Alex. Right here. And I want you to tell everyone in this restaurant that you are not good enough for me. Tell them that you are leaving so that I can finally be happy with a real man, like Ryan."

The air in my lungs turned to ice. It was a demand of such profound cruelty, designed for maximum public humiliation. Ryan sat back, a look of pure enjoyment on his face. This was my final test. The price of my freedom.

I looked at her, at the faces of the strangers watching us, their expressions a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. For a split second, my body refused to move. The last shred of my pride screamed in protest.

But then I thought of Chloe' s email. I thought of the new life waiting for me in Northwood. I thought of the years of quiet degradation I had already endured. What was one more moment of shame compared to a lifetime of it? This wasn' t a surrender. It was a transaction.

Slowly, deliberately, I lowered myself to my knees on the cold marble floor. The murmuring in the restaurant grew louder. I looked up at Victoria, my expression completely blank.

I took a breath.

"My name is Alex Miller," I said, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion. It carried through the now-silent restaurant. "I am not good enough for Victoria Hayes. I am leaving her so that she can be happy."

I held her gaze, refusing to show a single flicker of the pain or rage I felt. I had performed my part. Now it was her turn.

Victoria' s smile was wide and victorious. She took a pen from her purse, and with a dramatic flourish, she signed the bottom of the resignation form. She held it out to me.

"There. Was that so hard?"

I took the paper from her hand, stood up, brushed off my knees, and turned to leave without another word. The whispers and stares of the crowd followed me out the door. I could feel their judgment, their scorn, but it was like listening to static. It didn' t matter.

I had the paper. I was free.