Chapter 5

Elena's POV

Ethan’s voice echoed off the walls of the vast office, saturated with the absolute, suffocating authority of an untouchable billionaire.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turned around, and held my spine rigid. "And what kind of price are you expecting me to pay, Mr. Sterling?"

"Nicole was publicly humiliated because of you. I want a formal, public apology from you right now," Ethan decreed, his index finger tapping rhythmically against the mahogany desk like a judge's gavel. "And after that, you will go down to the plaza outside the main entrance and kneel. You stay on your knees until Nicole decides she has forgiven you."

Kneel.

Outside the main entrance of Sterling Tower, exposed to the massive crowds of Midtown Manhattan, kneeling like a convicted criminal.

I stared at Ethan in utter disbelief, wondering if my ears were playing tricks on me. He was the chief executive of a Fortune 500 company. How could he possibly utter something so degrading, so completely stripped of human dignity?

"Are you out of your mind, Ethan?" I didn't even bother calling him Mr. Sterling anymore, my voice trembling with raw, unbridled fury. "I told you, I didn't leak those photos. I didn't pay any press outlets. You can verify it yourself! If you just ordered your IT department to trace the source, you would know the truth in five minutes!"

"I already told you, Nicole doesn't lie," Ethan cut me off, his dark eyes brooding and merciless, without a single trace of hesitation.

Nicole sat on the couch, dabbing at the dry corners of her eyes with her handkerchief, playing the role of the merciful angel while pouring fuel on the fire. "Ethan, please... don't be too harsh. She has worked for you for three years, after all. Making her kneel outside is so humiliating... people will say you mistreat your staff."

"She brought this on herself," Ethan said, his icy gaze fixed on me. "You refuse to go down on your own? Security! Escort her down."

The heavy double doors were immediately pushed open, and two burly corporate security guards moved into the room, flanking me.

I took a step back, staring at Ethan—the man I had poured three years of my life, my soul, and my devotion into loving.

Memories flashed through my mind like a chaotic film reel.

I remembered three years ago when he was hospitalized for a severe stomach hemorrhage. I had sat beside his bed for forty-eight hours straight, terrified to close my eyes for even a single second. When he finally woke up, he had gripped my hand tightly, his voice hoarse as he whispered, "Elena, you're the only one I have left."

I remembered his birthday last year. Nicole hadn't sent him a single text, and Ethan had spent the entire night smashing every piece of furniture in the villa. I had spent an entire month's salary hunting down a rare vintage lighter he had casually mentioned in passing, yet I hadn't even dared to give it to him in person; I slipped it into the company's incoming mail without a sender name. Months later, I found that same lighter rolling around the filthy floor mat of his car, caked in dust.

And I remembered the countless intimate moments we had shared over the past three years. In the private suite behind his office, on the plush sofa in the villa... whenever he kissed me, his large, calloused palm would always reach up to cover my eyes.

Back then, I was too blind to understand. I thought it was just his overwhelming, possessive nature. Now, the cruel truth laid bare before me. He covered my eyes because he couldn't stand the sight of my face. As long as he couldn't see my eyes, he could pretend the woman beneath him was Nicole Vance.

For three entire years, I had been nothing more than a faceless vessel.

When heartbreak reaches its absolute peak, the pain simply vanishes, leaving only a vast, hollow numbness.

I looked at the guards closing in, straightened my shoulders, and spoke in a voice as dead and still as stagnant water. "Don't touch me. Fine. I'll kneel."

I turned and walked out of the executive suite. No screaming, no pleading, no tears. I didn't even spare Ethan a single backward glance.

It was December in New York, and the temperature outside hovered near freezing. The sky hung low and slate-gray, threatening snow at any moment.

The grand plaza in front of Sterling Tower sat right in the beating heart of the city's busiest financial district.

I walked out into the biting wind. A security guard dragged over a coarse, heavy-duty rubber floor mat, tossed it down at my feet, and sneered at me like I was a piece of garbage. "Mr. Sterling's orders, Ms. Vance. Right here."

I didn't say a word. I slowly bent my knees, letting them sink onto the rigid, freezing rubber.

Thud.

I knelt upright, folded my hands neatly over my lower abdomen, and fixed my gaze straight ahead.

The arctic wind sliced across my cheeks like razor blades, biting through the thin fabric of my tailored pencil skirt and blouse. Pedestrians began slowing down, pulling out their smartphones to snap photos and record videos.

"Isn't that the assistant from Twitter who tried to seduce her boss?"

"They actually made her kneel outside? Sterling doesn't mess around."

"Good! That's what homewrecking gold-diggers get. Let her freeze!"

"I heard she tried to steal company secrets too. Why isn't she in handcuffs?"

The vicious whispers washed over me in waves. Colleagues who had smiled and greeted me respectfully just this morning were now gathered behind the glass revolving doors, pointing at me, their faces twisted with smug amusement and schadenfreude.

The textured ridges of the rubber mat dug deep into my flesh. Within thirty minutes, my knees were completely numb. The bone-chilling dampness crept up through my joints, turning every shallow breath I took into a cloud of white mist.

The minutes bled into hours.

One hour. Two hours. Three hours.

Dusk settled over the city, and the wind whipped harder through the concrete canyons. I could no longer feel my lower legs at all; there was only a fiery, throbbing agony radiating from my kneecaps. My sheer black stockings had shredded against the coarse rubber, and blood was seeping through the fabric, staining the mat and congealing into dark rust in the freezing air.

My face was as white as paper, my lips turning a bruised shade of purple. My torso swayed slightly in the wind, but I refused to let myself collapse.

I refused to break. Ethan wanted to use this ritual humiliation to shatter my pride and force me to beg for mercy. But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. The moment I discovered the truth at the courthouse, my heart had died. What was kneeling out here now was nothing more than a hollow shell.

At six o'clock, the evening rush poured out of Sterling Tower.

My head was tilted down, but my back remained ramrod straight. The pool of dark blood beneath my knees stood out garishly against the gray rubber.

Through the crowd, I saw Ethan emerge.

I saw him take an instinctive step toward me, his hand reaching out as if to pull me up from the pavement.

"Ethan." A pair of delicate, manicured hands wrapped around his arm. Nicole leaned into him with an air of fragile grace, her voice carrying a faux sense of pity. "Elena has been out here all day. That's punishment enough. Even though she tried to destroy my name, I just can't bear to watch her suffer like this. Please, let her stand up."

Hearing her words, Ethan's jaw tightened, and the brief flicker of hesitation in his eyes instantly hardened into cold stone.

"Let's go," Ethan said, pulling his gaze away with utter indifference. "If she isn't taught a lesson she'll remember for the rest of her life, she'll never learn her place."

Shielding Nicole with his body, he led her toward his waiting Maybach. The heavy luxury sedan pulled away from the curb, its tires splashing a spray of freezing, dirty slush across the hem of my blood-stained skirt.

I didn't look up.

I listened to the low rumble of the engine fading into the city traffic and closed my eyes. The very last, pathetic ember of hope I had held for that man died with the hum of that departing car.