Chapter 9

“Janitorial staff, please clean this up. Everyone, back to work.”

I calmly gave the instruction, then turned and went back to my office.

A mountain of documents was piled on my desk. Thankfully, they kept me busy, leaving no room for sorrow.

But the calm lasted only one morning before trouble struck again.

After lunch, some employees turned green, clutching their stomachs, and started making endless trips to the restroom.

Julian had run off, his phone unanswered, leaving me as the only one to clean up this mess.

The fiasco triggered by the “CEO’s generous gesture” finally turned into a heavy burden crashing down on my shoulders.

“HR! Compile a list of sick employees! Mild cases, rest. Severe cases, send to the hospital immediately!”

“Legal! Report this mass food poisoning incident! Prepare all the necessary documents!”

“All departments, review urgent tasks, ensure core operations continue without interruption! Minimize the impact!”

My instructions were clear and cold, like a machine in motion.

I forced myself to ignore the sharp pain of my nails digging into my palms, to ignore the frozen emptiness in my chest, and even more, to ignore the SnapChat notification of Skylar’s latest update:

In front of a dimly lit claw machine, Julian was shown in profile, an expression of indulgence on his face that I had never seen before.

Skylar’s hand was covering his larger one; they were “working together” to control the joystick.

Caption:

**[CEO is here playing claw machine with me instead of working]**

**[Wuwuwu, it’s all my fault for being so clumsy, couldn’t win anything after dozens of tries, cried QAQ!]**

**[The CEO couldn’t stand it anymore, personally stepping in to teach me! Feeling his hand over mine is just too swoon-worthy!]**

**[Even though I still didn’t win the strawberry bear I wanted, the feeling of being pampered is already a perfect score!]**

**[#CEOSoGentle #JuniorMentee’sExclusiveCoach]**

The background sound seemed to still echo in my ears—"Skylar, don’t cry, which one do you want? I’ll help you win it.”

And the background sound of reality now was the wailing sirens of ambulances approaching, the painful moans of employees, the incessant sharp ringing of phones.

What an utterly absurd contrast.

I twitched my lips, giving a self-deprecating laugh.

In college, once, when we passed an arcade, I had impulsively asked him, “Julian, let’s try to win one too?”

What did he say then?

He frowned, his voice full of disdain: “Anya, how old are you, still playing this? So childish. You’d be better off reading another financial report.”

It turns out, he didn’t dislike playing claw machines.

He just disliked playing claw machines with *me*.

Or rather, he preferred the “clumsy” girl who allowed him to play the role of “savior” and “gentle mentor.”

Not me, the “older woman” who could fight alongside him, rational and calm.

It wasn’t worth it anymore.

Julian, and this crumbling ten-year relationship, weren’t worth another second of my effort.

It was time to cut ties, decisively.