The Architect of His Ruin

Name: The Architect of His Ruin
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My boyfriend Ethan and I broke up a year ago, but I'm still the one he calls in a crisis. I'm his rock, the foundation of the company we built together. After closing a seven-figure deal for him, the celebration landed me in the ER with alcohol poisoning. That's where I overheard him on the phone, telling our finance manager to give the credit, the title, and the public glory for my project to his secretary, Olivia. He said I'd get a bonus check, as if that could pay for my life's work. He then dismissed my past sacrifices, even calling the miscarriage of our child a "blessing in disguise" because a baby would have been a "complication." That night, at a gala, he proposed in a public trap. As he was on one knee, a screen behind us played faked photos painting me as a corporate spy. Then, Olivia "accidentally" spilled a glass of mango juice on me. I have a deathly allergy to mangoes. As I gasped for air, Ethan looked from my very real medical emergency to Olivia, who had chosen that moment to swoon dramatically into his arms. He hesitated. He actually hesitated, choosing to comfort her as I was dying. But a different man saved me. Liam Sterling, Ethan's biggest rival, administered an EpiPen and led me out of the chaos. That night, I sent him a message: "I hold the key to the Henderson project. Every contact, every piece of data. Ethan is about to make a fatal error. Are you interested in a strategic partnership?"

Suspense Modern Revenge CEO

Chapter 10 10

11-04 07:17

Chapter 1 1

The chemical taste of charcoal coated my throat.

My stomach felt like it had been scoured with steel wool, a raw, burning reminder of the five shots of Maotai I'd forced down my throat hours earlier to close the Henderson deal.

My head felt fuzzy from the sedative the ER doctor gave me after they pumped my stomach.

Just acute alcohol poisoning, they said. And a dangerously low blood pressure.

Ethan was supposed to pick me up, but he was late.

Always late when it involved me, even now, a year after we'd officially broken up.

He still called me his 'rock.' I was still the one he called in a crisis. The lines were blurry, toxic, and entirely my fault for letting them stay that way.

I dragged myself out of the stiff hospital bed, the IV stand squeaking beside me, needing the restroom.

The painkiller was stronger than I thought. My eyelids felt heavy.

I drifted, not quite asleep, but not fully awake.

Then I heard Ethan's voice from the quiet stairwell landing, low and urgent.

He was on the phone. With our finance manager, David.

"It's perfect, David. The Henderson project is locked down. That seven-figure bonus is as good as ours."

My project. The one I'd poured my lifeblood into for six months.

"We give the credit to Olivia," Ethan continued, his voice smooth. "A Project Director title. It'll put her on the map. Make her feel valued."

Olivia. His secretary. A cold knot formed in my stomach.

"What about Sarah?" David asked. His voice was tight. "It's her deal, Ethan. Her masterpiece."

"Sarah doesn't need a title," Ethan said, a dismissive laugh in his tone. "I'll make sure she's taken care of. Besides, she understands the big picture. She always does."

My breath caught. The big picture. My sacrifice.

David sounded uneasy. "Are you sure? After everything she's done for this company? She built the sales department from scratch. She took the fall for those financial irregularities in the early days, nearly wrecking her own reputation!"

Tears pricked my eyes. He remembered. Ethan never mentioned that.

My own professional standing almost ended because I said I made the call Ethan botched. To protect him and our fledgling company.

"That was ages ago," Ethan scoffed. "Ancient history."

"And the baby, Ethan?" David's voice dropped, heavy with something dark. "You remember the baby? How relieved you were?"

My heart stopped. The baby. Our baby. From before we split.

The miscarriage I'd blamed myself for. The stress, the doctor said. Too much stress.

"That has nothing to do with this," Ethan snapped, but his voice lacked conviction. "It was just... a terrible accident."

"Accident?" David's voice was laced with disbelief. "You said it yourself, it was a 'blessing in disguise.' Your exact words. Because a baby would have been a 'complication' and you were trying to get the company on its feet."

I felt a wave of nausea. The room started to spin.

Ethan's voice hardened. "Olivia is an asset, David. Sarah... Sarah's the bedrock. Solid, dependable. But Olivia keeps things running smoothly behind the scenes. This title will keep her happy. It's a small price to pay."

He was talking about my life's work as if it were a commodity.

My body, my baby, my career. All just tools for him. For his convenience.

"She'll get a hefty check," Ethan conceded, as if bestowing a great favor. "A big one. But the title and the public win go to Olivia. It's non-negotiable."

He wasn't my boyfriend anymore, but this felt like a deeper betrayal than any infidelity.

He was plundering our shared history, my unwavering loyalty, to fuel his present.

"I'm doing this, David," Ethan said, his voice final. "Make the arrangements. The press release needs to name Olivia Monroe as the driving force behind the Henderson deal."

My project. My contacts. My strategy. Given to his secretary.

The betrayal was a physical thing, clawing at my insides.

The fuzziness in my head sharpened into a piercing ache.

It wasn't just the project. It was everything.

Years of being the 'cornerstone' of his company.

Putting my own ambitions on hold.

The endless emotional labor.

The baby. Oh god, the baby.

He let me believe it was my fault. My weakness.

I must have blacked out for a moment.

When my eyes focused again, the hallway felt cold. Sterile.

Ethan was walking toward my room, his face a mask of concern.

"Sarah? You okay, baby? You look pale."

He still called me that. A manipulative echo of our past. His hand reached for my forehead. I flinched.

"The doctor said you should rest," he murmured, his voice soft, caring. The voice he used when he wanted something. "Just a bad reaction to the celebration, but you scared me."

He didn't know I'd heard. He thought I was just dazed from the alcohol, from the medication.

"David called," he said casually. "Just some boring financial stuff. You know how it is."

Liar.

The word screamed in my head.

Every sacrifice I'd ever made for him felt like ash in my mouth.

He was going to steal my soul and pat me on the head with a bonus check.

A cold calm settled over me.

He thought I was naive. Devoted. Easily manipulated.

He was wrong.

I had been those things. For him.

Not anymore.

This was the end.

He had taken everything. He wouldn't get another chance.

I needed a plan. I needed to get away.

Liam Sterling.

The name surfaced from the depths of my memory.

A rival CEO. Ethan's nemesis. Ethical. Respected.

Years ago, at an industry mixer, he'd complimented a market analysis I'd published. He'd remembered my name. He'd told me, "If you ever get tired of building someone else's empire, call me." It had seemed bold then. Now, it felt like a lifeline.

He was based here.

I closed my eyes, feigning drowsiness.

"Just tired," I mumbled.

Ethan smoothed my hair. "Rest, baby. I'll take care of everything."

Yes, you will, I thought. You'll take care of destroying me, if I let you.

When he left the room to take another call, I reached for my phone, hidden under a cushion.

My fingers trembled as I found Liam Sterling's contact information.

I typed out a short, direct message.

"Liam, it's Sarah Jenkins. A situation has developed. I hold the key to the Henderson project. Every contact, every piece of data. Ethan is about to make a fatal error. Are you interested in a strategic partnership?"

I hit send before I could lose my nerve.