Chapter 3

Transferred to logistics?

I almost laughed out loud.

If he truly wanted to reassure his girlfriend, he would have fired the person who crossed his line, not tucked her away in another department on the company payroll.

"Really? Let me see the transfer order on your phone then."

Ethan’s expression shifted, his fingers curling slightly. "HR is still processing the paperwork. I'm getting her far away from my office. Stop being so aggressive."

"Fine."

I zipped the suitcase shut, the zipper making a harsh, tearing sound in the quiet room.

"The lease on this penthouse is under your name. I'm moving out. Enjoy having the place to yourself. And don't forget to change the sheets—I find them filthy."

Ethan froze. He clearly hadn't anticipated me being this decisive. In the past, no matter how heated our arguments became, I was always the one who surrendered.

He grabbed my wrist tightly. "What are you doing? Scarlett, are you breaking up with me? Over a complete stranger?"

"A stranger?"

I repeated the word, savoring the bitter irony.

"Ethan, for three whole years, I never met your parents, never set foot in your private study, and walked on eggshells just so my breathing wouldn't disturb your peace. I turned myself into a ghost just to cater to your precious germaphobia."

I yanked my arm back violently, the force leaving a sharp sting on my skin.

"And now you tell me the woman who drinks from your personal mug is just a 'stranger'?"

Ethan stumbled back from the force of my shove. His face darkened into a furious sneer—a look of wounded pride I had never seen on him before.

"Scarlett, stop being so unreasonable! Chloe is Mr. Vance’s personal referral. If I don't treat her with respect, our multimillion-dollar contract goes up in smoke."

"Can't you grow up and stop obsessing over petty, insignificant nonsense?"

"Insignificant?"

I laughed until tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

"For a contract, you don't even mind an indirect kiss from her cup? Tell me, if Mr. Vance asks you to sleep with her, are you going to put in some overtime for the sake of the project, too?"

His hand shot up as if to slap me, but when his eyes locked with mine, he lowered it.

"Watch your mouth! You're completely out of your mind! Totally irrational!"

I looked at him.

The man I had loved for three years was looking at me with pure disgust, as if I were a bag of garbage that needed to be hauled to the curb immediately.

No guilt. No remorse.

Just raw, defensive rage at having his dirty secret dragged into the light.

I picked up my suitcase, didn't spare him another glance, and headed for the front door.

"If you walk out that door, don't you dare come back!"

Ethan's enraged roar echoed behind me. "Step foot out of this apartment, and you can forget about me ever begging you to return!"

I checked into a boutique hotel nearby.

The moment I stepped into the room, my phone began vibrating incessantly in my tote bag.

It was Ethan.

I stared at the name flashing across the screen and hit decline.

Seconds later, a barrage of texts lit up my screen:

*Scarlett, what are you trying to prove? It's pouring rain outside and you go stay in some hotel?*

*Get back here right now. Don't make me come drag you back like an embarrassment.*

*Do you have any idea what time it is? I have an executive board meeting first thing tomorrow morning.*

Not a single word of concern. Only orders and accusations.

I tossed the phone onto the king-size bed and took a steaming hot shower.

As the hot water rinsed over my skin, I looked at my pale reflection in the steamy vanity mirror and curled my lips into a cold smirk.

*Scarlett, you were such an idiot.*

Stepping out in a bathrobe, I typed a short message and sent it to Ethan:

*Let's break up. You disgust me.*

Then, I powered off the phone.

That night, I slept better than I had in years.

The following morning, I was jarred awake by aggressive pounding on the door.

Looking through the peephole, I saw Ethan’s face, dark as a storm cloud.

He was wearing the exact same clothes from yesterday, now crumpled and rumpled. Dark circles hung heavily beneath his bloodshot eyes. He clearly hadn't slept a wink.

I didn't open the door.

Through the thick wood panel, his voice was tight with suppressed fury. "Scarlett, open the damn door."