/0/77278/coverorgin.jpg?v=e33b5a48fd64490b6c3dab31c8798b9a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
For five years, I poured my soul into my career and my secret lover, my boss Hudson. But for the fifth time, he gave the promotion I bled for to my incompetent rival, Kaitlyn.
My world shattered when I overheard him callously admitting our entire relationship was just a "cost-effective strategy" to keep me motivated without the director's salary.
The humiliation didn't end there. He physically forced me into a deeper bow before Kaitlyn, re-injuring my back. When I finally quit, his revenge was swift: an assignment to a notoriously dangerous remote site.
That night, I was brutally attacked. My desperate emergency call to Hudson went straight to voicemail. A notification later revealed why: he was on stage at a company party, singing a love duet with Kaitlyn while I was fighting for my life.
The man I loved had left me to die.
After I cut all ties and finally started to heal, he showed up at my parents' door, begging for forgiveness.
This time, I wouldn't just walk away. I would make him face every lie he ever told.
Chapter 1
Alex Evans POV:
The email landed in my inbox like a lead weight, crushing the last sliver of hope I had left. "Director of Digital Strategy – Kaitlyn Chen." For the fifth time. Five times I' d poured my soul into this company, into this role, only to be passed over for someone less competent, less deserving. My fingers shook as I reread the name, the words blurring through a sudden, hot haze in my eyes.
The frustration tasted like ash in my mouth.
My phone vibrated, an incoming call from my mother. I almost ignored it. Lately, her calls were just reminders of everything I wasn't doing right – not married, not settled, still chasing a career that clearly wasn't chasing me back. But today, something shifted. A weariness settled deep in my bones, a kind of surrender I hadn't felt before. I answered.
"Honey, still no news about the promotion?" Her voice was soft, laced with that familiar maternal concern. "You know, if San Francisco isn't working out, Portland always has a place for you. And maybe it's time to think about settling down, you know? A nice architect, a family…"
Normally, I'd bristle. I'd launch into a fierce defense of my choices, my ambition. But today, the fight had drained out of me.
"Maybe, Mom," I whispered, the words surprising even myself. "Maybe you're right."
A beat of stunned silence on the other end. My mother knew this wasn't like me. I hung up before she could probe, the unexpected admission hanging in the air between us.
I needed to talk to Hudson. He was the only one who truly understood, or so I thought. My boss, my secret lover of five years, the Vice President who had always promised me the world, just not yet. I composed a text, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard. "Can we talk? Urgent."
Then, a flicker of movement in the reflection of my office window caught my eye. Hudson's door, usually closed, was ajar. And I heard voices. His voice. And another, deeper, male voice. Greg Ashley, his colleague.
I leaned closer, my heart thumping a nervous rhythm against my ribs.
"So, Alex was passed over again," Greg said, his tone sympathetic. "Harsh, man. She's been gunning for that director role for years. And after all she's done for you, for the company…"
A cold dread began to seep into my veins. This was about me.
/1/102835/coverorgin.jpg?v=cba698dce2ace0c40d418e991926c8fd&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/23972/coverorgin.jpg?v=0c4cb5f953bba42e803c7083881d4427&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/51850/coverorgin.jpg?v=78a63ac906d0ab4a07b440d3430ddfff&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/43844/coverorgin.jpg?v=20230916181935&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/28411/coverorgin.jpg?v=dde86a99ad1398cfc2c05a23aa8a1514&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/103125/coverorgin.jpg?v=b87f88a1072ea41f8a03fe92754b543e&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/83031/coverorgin.jpg?v=49c131b6b8d5ee0d8d8a6d7495f07481&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/63664/coverorgin.jpg?v=03cf1c5e87295da12b347cb2e8474e31&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/21427/coverorgin.jpg?v=1e0002e5d5c081af7c0da881b40fc397&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/60875/coverorgin.jpg?v=20250113093604&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/18725/coverorgin.jpg?v=d2fad23145a2c61f392a435e986a48ed&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/69434/coverorgin.jpg?v=20250215145448&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/79398/coverorgin.jpg?v=bab8bd621cb19ea558f3f506fcae42a1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/67413/coverorgin.jpg?v=49525dde8a0ca61f8ca73e7e4897312f&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/74479/coverorgin.jpg?v=654aac5aad65efbb195b44e8dd4b6e42&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/16420/coverorgin.jpg?v=9832a91f80db1e1f59318cd347bf03f6&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/82429/coverorgin.jpg?v=20260106200435&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/75221/coverorgin.jpg?v=20250527042611&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/62797/coverorgin.jpg?v=9907303c3e30cc311564d1a63d2292b5&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/45434/coverorgin.jpg?v=404887c43794f5ace8edf9a216aa8104&imageMogr2/format/webp)