Chapter 4

"Scarlett!"

Julian's furious voice exploded through the empty office.

He grabbed my collar, slamming me hard against the wall.

His right hand flew up, a sharp whistle of air preceding the brutal slap across my face.

*SMACK!*

The crisp sound of the slap was excruciatingly loud in the silent office.

I stumbled back a few steps, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth.

"Are you out of your damn mind?! Did losing your right hand make you lose your brain too?! I never knew you were so malicious!"

Julian's eyes were bloodshot, veins throbbing at his temples, all traces of his usual composed financial elite persona gone.

I slowly wiped the blood from my mouth, a cold laugh escaping my lips: "Malicious? Who really took those pictures anyway, and—"

"Shut up!"

Julian roughly cut me off. "Candace has been looking out for you every step of the way! Do you know how much those photos cost the company? Clients withdrawing funds, stock prices plummeting – the board wants to know who's responsible! If you hadn't willingly stooped to visiting places like that, those photos never would have gotten out!"

I stared directly into his eyes: "Julian, can you look me in the eye and say *I* had those photos taken?"

His gaze visibly flickered, his Adam's apple bobbed uncomfortably.

But quickly, that handsome face reverted to its usual cold ruthlessness.

"Don't play innocent here!"

He yanked open a drawer, pulling out a stack of papers and flinging them at me.

"Look at your employment contract's supplementary clause! Any employee's personal actions that damage the company's reputation will result in a twenty-million-dollar fine!"

Papers scattered across the floor, my signature emblazoned on the top sheet.

I bent to pick up the contract, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.

So, from the very first day we started dating, he had been planning this all along.

Not only did he make me sign this exorbitant penalty clause, but he also transferred all my savings away under the guise of "joint investments."

He had calculated, precisely, that I couldn't afford to pay, which is why he dared to push me so ruthlessly.

"You must publicly review your actions at tomorrow morning's meeting, so the entire company can learn from your mistakes."

Julian adjusted his tie, his tone suddenly softening: "Scarlett, please don't make this difficult for me."

That familiar "Scarlett" sent a sharp pang twisting in my stomach.

Once, he always called me that late at night after we worked overtime,

and then, as if by magic, pull out my favorite Tiramisu from his briefcase.

"Don't worry, Mr. Julian."

I fought back tears, straightening my back. "I'll... perform exceptionally well."

He nodded, satisfied, and turned to leave.

Just then, Candace, in her ten-centimeter Jimmy Choo heels, pushed the door open.

The scent of Chanel No. 5 instantly filled the entire space.

"Julian, the board members..."

She feigned surprise, covering her mouth. "Oh dear, Ms. Scarlett is here too."

Julian immediately adopted a tender expression, naturally wrapping an arm around Candace's slender waist: "It's all handled. Shall we go?"

Candace flashed me a victor's smile, her lips, painted with CL red-bottom lipstick, moving as she spoke: "Oh, and Scarlett, remember to dress formally tomorrow. After all, it's going to be live-streamed on the company's internal network."

Watching them walk away hand-in-hand, I bit down so hard on my lip, I tasted blood.

The next morning, at 6 AM, I stood by the HR department's door.

My resignation letter was already crumpled in my bag.

The elevator chimed open, and Candace, swaying her hips, stepped out.

Her new Givenchy Fall collection suit made her look both sharp and alluring.

"Well, well, isn't it our 'star trader'?"

She deliberately raised her voice, causing several early-bird colleagues to glance over.

"Weren't you going to resign? What, slinking back already?"

She leaned close to my ear, her warm breath caressing my neck: "Or perhaps... the men in that private room didn't satisfy you that night?"

I snapped my head up, meeting her malicious gaze head-on.

The timid intern who used to trail behind me with reports, shyly calling me 'Ms. Scarlett,' had vanished completely.

*SMACK!*

My hand moved faster than my brain, but just as it was about to connect with her cheek, it was caught in a vice-like grip.

Candace's perfectly manicured nails dug deep into my bandaged wrist.

The excruciating pain made my vision blur.

"A trader without her right hand? Can't even throw a punch, it's like a tickle."

She maliciously ground her nails into my wound, and blood quickly seeped out, staining the gauze.

"If that little slap affects my trading performance today, what do you think... Julian will do to you?"

She flung my hand away, then elegantly pulled a wet wipe from her Hermes bag to clean her fingers, as if I were something dirty.

The crisp click of her heels gradually faded away.

I leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the floor, the searing pain in my wrist shooting straight to my heart.

At 7:30 AM, Julian was setting up the projection equipment in the trading hall.

The massive LED screen cycled through company promotional videos, among them, clips of me accepting the "Best Trader" award years ago.

"Where's Scarlett?"

He checked his watch for the third time, impatience in his voice.

"The market's about to open, the morning meeting *must* start on time! How can someone with this level of discipline be trusted with client funds?"

Ben, the assistant, stammered: "We've called her three times, but no one's answering..."

Julian irritably loosened his tie and slipped into the fire escape to call Candace.

"Baby, how about we go to 'The Summit' tonight? That role-play you mentioned wanting to try..."

His voice suddenly turned syrupy. "Yes, just like in those photos... you play the drunk client, I'll be the attentive manager..."

"Every time I see your eyes red with pleading, I just..."

His breathing grew heavier, and his other hand unconsciously unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt.

Suddenly, Ben burst in, panic-stricken: "Mr. Julian! It's bad! Security says... says Scarlett went to the rooftop..."

Julian's expression froze instantly.

The next second, like a furious lion, he lunged for the elevator, frantically jamming the 'up' button:

"Damn it! Seal off the news immediately! Notify security... No, I'll go myself!"

When he kicked open the rooftop safety door, the first rays of morning sun were piercing through the clouds.

The wind on the thirty-eighth floor was fierce, whipping my white blouse around me.

"Scarlett!"

His voice was tinged with genuine fear for the first time.

"Get your ass down here! I don't care about the twenty million! Do you hear me?!"

I looked back at him one last time, the man I'd loved for five years, his tie crooked, his composure shattered.

How pathetic. Even now, all he cared about was the company's reputation.

"Julian."

I said softly,

"You will never, ever get that Chief Analyst position."

Amidst the blaring police sirens.

I spread my arms wide, just as I had when I made my first foreign exchange trade, embracing this grand, magnificent fall.