Chapter 1

My boyfriend was an extreme germaphobe. If my lips so much as brushed against his mug, he would throw it out and buy a brand-new one.

That afternoon, I stopped by his office to drop off an umbrella.

Through the glass door, I saw a woman take a sip straight from his personal mug.

Not only did he not flinch, but he naturally took it back from her and continued drinking.

When he looked up and saw me, his immediate reaction was to explain: "She's on her period and having awful cramps, so I—"

I snatched the mug from his hand and splashed the water directly onto his face.

"Awake now?"

Water dripped down Ethan’s jaw, soaking the front of his pristine white dress shirt. The dark tea dripped onto his tailored slacks, leaving an unsightly stain.

He froze, his eyes shifting from sheer shock to utter disbelief.

The woman, Chloe, shrieked. She bolted out of her chair, grabbed a handful of paper towels from the desk, and began furiously blotting Ethan's chest.

"Mr. Hayes, let me dry you off! You'll catch a cold!"

Ethan didn't move.

He stared straight at me, his brows knitted into a tight knot.

"Scarlett, have you lost your mind?"

My fingers were still wrapped around the empty glass. The mug was still warm, and on its rim sat a faint, baby-pink lipstick print.

It wasn't mine.

Chloe's hands kept rubbing Ethan's chest. The paper towels were completely soaked and disintegrating, but she kept pressing, turning the damp fabric translucent against his skin.

"Mr. Hayes, I think Miss Scarlett misunderstood. I just—"

"That's enough, Chloe."

Ethan brushed her hands away and took a step toward me, looking down with cold authority.

"Scarlett, listen to me. Chloe wasn't feeling well today. I just let her have some warm water to soothe her stomach."

"Out of your personal mug," I said flatly.

"It's just a glass of water." His voice held a trace of impatient irritation. "She was pale as a ghost from the pain. I couldn't just stand by and watch her suffer—"

"What happened to your germaphobia?" I cut him off.

Ethan’s expression stiffened.

His severe germaphobia was an open secret to everyone who knew him. After three years together, nobody understood his strict boundaries better than I did.

Out of the hundreds of employees in this corporate tower, anyone who dared touch his pen holder earned a vicious scowl.

Yet this woman, Chloe, was allowed to drink from his personal cup.

Ethan pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began dabbing his face. His movements slowed, and his tone softened just a fraction.

"Scarlett, stop making a scene. She's my new executive assistant. I can't just let an employee collapse in front of me."

"Does keeping her from collapsing require sharing your private mug?"

I slammed the empty glass onto the marble desk with a sharp, echoing clatter.

"Did the company run out of paper cups, or is the water dispenser broken?"

Chloe’s eyes welled with tears. Her lower lip trembled, and she shrank back into her chair, trembling like a wounded bird.

"Miss Scarlett, I'm so sorry. The pain was just so overwhelming that I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't realize it was Mr. Hayes's cup... It's all my fault..."

She lowered her head, her shoulders shaking as if she were about to burst into sobs.

In the hallway outside, several coworkers were already peeking through the glass partition.

Ethan glanced over his shoulder, and the prying eyes instantly vanished.

"Scarlett, go home first. I'll explain everything tonight." He lowered his voice, his fingers gently squeezing my wrist. "Don't cause a scene here. It looks bad for the office."

I yanked my hand back.

"Tonight? What time are you planning on coming home? Ten? Midnight?"

Ethan parted his lips, but nothing came out.

A cold weight dropped into the pit of my stomach.

For the past three months, he had dinners and networking events every single night. He always came back long after I had fallen asleep, and left in the morning before I opened my eyes.

I thought he was overwhelmed with projects. I tried to be understanding.

Only now did I realize that no matter how busy a project was, a man didn't just vanish into thin air for three straight months.

My gaze drifted across Chloe's desk—a pastel pink insulated mug, a fluffy fleece throw blanket, and a notebook plastered with cute cartoon stickers.

When had these items migrated into Ethan’s pristine office?

I bent down, picked up the umbrella from the corner of the desk, and tossed it onto the couch. "I brought the umbrella. Find your own way home tonight."

Ethan stepped forward. "Scarlett—"