Chapter 4: Free at Last, Broken at Last

After that, I checked into a hotel.

The room was tiny, the bed lumpy, but it was mine. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the city’s hum.

Brett kept sending me taunting messages—photos of Lauren cooking for his family, videos of her massaging his feet.

Every ping made my stomach twist. I muted the notifications, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

[You’ve been married nine years—has she ever done this for you?]

His words were petty, childish. I deleted the message, didn’t bother replying.

I felt nothing. Turned off my phone.

It was almost a relief. The silence was a gift.

Then I logged onto my computer and sent my resignation to HR. It was approved instantly—Lauren probably didn’t even notice.

I typed the email with shaking hands. When I hit send, a weight lifted. I was free.

Three days later, just as I was about to head to the airport, HR messaged me: my resignation wasn’t complete. Lauren had to sign it in person.

I sighed, already picturing the scene. But I didn’t care. Nothing she said could change my mind.

So I grabbed my suitcase and went to the office, leaving it by the door.

The office was buzzing—people whispering, gossiping. I ignored them, heading straight for Lauren’s office.

Unexpectedly, I saw Lauren and Brett there.

They were at the conference table, papers everywhere. Lauren looked up, eyes narrowing.

When she saw me, Lauren called out loudly, “From today, Brett is the new project manager!”

Her voice rang out, drawing every eye. I heard a few snickers.

I knew she wanted to provoke me.

I didn’t take the bait. I kept walking.

I stepped forward, wrote out my resignation, and handed it to her.

I placed the papers on her desk, my hand steady. She looked surprised.

“Lauren, please sign this.”

I kept it formal. This was business, not personal.

She thought it was an apology letter, took it with a smug smile. But her face froze when she saw the word ‘resignation.’

She flipped through the pages, her face falling. The room went dead quiet.

“You’re quitting?”

Her voice was sharp, incredulous. I nodded.

Brett smirked. “Ethan, no need to quit just to make a point!”

He leaned on the desk, arms crossed. I ignored him.

Lauren crossed her arms and snorted, “Ethan, don’t forget—your dad’s still in the hospital! Without a job, how will you pay his bills?”

The words hit like a punch. She still didn’t know. Rage simmered in my chest.

The other coworkers didn’t get what she meant about my dad—just that I was quitting. They started mocking me.

I heard whispers—"Finally!" "About time he left." I kept my eyes down.

“Ethan, you should’ve quit ages ago!”

Someone snickered. My fists clenched.

“Always clinging to President Lauren, what a doormat. No wonder your dad died!”

The words echoed. Lauren’s face went pale.

Lauren froze, grabbing a coworker. “What did you say? Whose dad died?”

Her voice shook. I watched her carefully.

The coworker replied, “Ethan’s, President Lauren. Didn’t you know? Ethan’s dad died three days ago. The hospital couldn’t reach him—even called the company.”

A hush fell over the room. Lauren’s hands shook as she turned to me.

Lauren’s face was ghost-white. She suddenly remembered: three days ago, I was still being tormented—after she’d auctioned me off.

I saw it hit her. For the first time, she looked truly sorry.

She hurriedly pulled me into her office, guilt all over her face. “Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know about your dad…”

Her voice cracked. She reached for my hand. I pulled away.

“I thought you were just picking a fight with Brett. I only wanted to toughen you up, never thought it would hurt you so much—let alone that your dad would pass away…”

She sounded small, her confidence gone. I almost pitied her.

She stuffed the resignation back in my hand, her tone softer. “This was my fault. In a few days, I’ll promote you to vice president as compensation. Please don’t be mad, okay?”

She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I shook my head.

She stood on tiptoe to kiss me. I turned away and handed the resignation back.

Her lips brushed my cheek. I felt nothing.

“President Lauren, my mind’s made up. Please sign.”

My voice was steady. She looked at me, defeated.

Right then, Brett, red-eyed, burst in. “Lauren, I heard everything. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t bid against Ethan, his dad wouldn’t have… I should just die to make it up to him!”

He lunged for the wall, hamming it up. Lauren rushed to stop him, voice shrill.

He started to throw himself at the wall. Lauren tried to stop him, wanting me to comfort Brett.

She looked at me, pleading. I shook my head.

But I said, cold as ice, “If you want to die, go ahead. Who are you putting on a show for?”

My words froze him. Brett’s act faltered.

Lauren slammed her hand on the desk, furious, and scrawled her signature. “Ethan, let’s see what amazing job you land without me!”

She shoved the papers at me, her face twisted with anger. I took them, silent.

I took the signed papers and left.

I walked out, the door closing softly behind me. I never looked back.

As soon as I opened the door, a coworker stuck out a foot and tripped me. Everyone was waiting for the show.

I stumbled, catching myself on the wall. Laughter rippled through the office.

I fell, my bandaged left hand coming undone, the bloody wound exposed for all to see.

The bandage slipped, blood oozing from the raw flesh. The room froze.

Everyone stopped, staring.

No one moved. Even Brett turned pale.

Brett, playing innocent, said, “Ethan, is that more special effects makeup? Trying to get sympathy again?”

His voice shook. I ignored him, standing tall.

Lauren’s face changed. She frowned, walked over. I braced for her to accuse me of faking it again.

She knelt beside me, her hand trembling as she reached for mine. For the first time in years, I saw real fear in her eyes. "What happened to your hand?" she whispered, voice breaking. The office was silent, everyone watching. I looked at her, and for a moment, I almost believed she cared. But I knew better. This was the end. I was finally free.

Whatever she felt, it was too late.