Chapter 1

My boyfriend of seven years had an old handle on his socials that he never changed: "MoonlightHoarder".

Whenever I teased him for being corny, he just smiled and stayed quiet.

I only understood why when his first love—using the handle "Moonlight"—sent me a screenshot of a private post he had hidden from me.

In that screenshot, the very day his tech company went public, Ethan couldn't wait to make things official with her.

Our mutual friends stood up for me in the comments, calling him out, but he brushed them off with cold impatience.

"People settle when they’re broke. Back then, I didn't have a choice."

"Besides, seven years with her? I got tired of it a long time ago. She’s fine for passing the time, but when you get married, you marry the one you actually love."

"So what if she finds out? She’s just my assistant. If she wants to walk, she can walk!"

I quietly saved the screenshot and booked a one-way flight back to my hometown for three days later.

"Chloe, redo this financial report."

Ethan didn't even look up from scrolling through his phone as he tossed the file onto my desk.

Not once did he glance my way.

So, naturally, he didn't notice the resignation letter already halfway out of the printer behind me.

A faint smile lingered on his lips.

I knew he was texting Rachel.

He used to have that exact same look back in college whenever he got a reply from her.

"Mr. Miller," I said, my voice completely calm, "this report already cleared accounting yesterday."

He finally looked up, his brow furrowing. "I said redo it, so redo it. Do you have a problem with that?"

I lowered my eyes, my thumb unconsciously tracing the palm of my hand.

"Fine. I’ll have it for you tomorrow."

"I need it before you clock out today," he said dismissively. Then, as if remembering something, he added, "Oh, order a box of liquor-filled chocolates for me. Make sure they're imported Belgian. They’re a gift."

My chest tightened. "For a client?"

"What's wrong, Chloe? Jealous?"

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Relax, it’s for a client."

"If you want some, order a box for yourself too. Put it on the company card."

"No thanks. You know I'm allergic to chocolate."

He blinked, caught off guard. "Sorry. Slipped my mind."

I said nothing, simply jotting down the note on my tablet before leaving his office.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the ribbons and banners from the IPO celebration hadn't even been fully cleared away.

Just yesterday, we were raising our glasses together, celebrating the biggest triumph of our seven years together.

I had thought it was the start of our new life.

I never imagined it was just the end of my one-sided delusion.

Before the end of the day, I emailed the revised report to Ethan's inbox.

Passing his office, I saw him through the cracked door, adjusting his tie in the mirror.

On his desk sat the bouquet of white roses I had ordered for him.

Tightly budded and fresh, just like the eager anticipation written all over his face.

My assistant, Jason, leaned in and lowered his voice. "Chloe, does the boss have... a date tonight?"

The corner of my mouth twitched into a flat smile. "Focus on your own work."

In the elevator, I stared blankly at the reflection of the thirty-year-old woman in the mirrored walls.

The spark in my eyes from years ago was long gone, replaced by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion.

When Ethan first started the business, I quit a six-figure job to help him build everything from scratch.

After pouring every cent of our savings into the startup, we were so broke we didn't even have a hundred dollars between us.

Squeezed into a tiny hundred-square-foot office, sharing instant noodles, he had looked right into my eyes and said with absolute conviction:

"Chloe, we're going to make it. Once we hit it big, I swear I’ll pay you way more than that six-figure salary."

I believed him.

It wasn't about the money. I just believed that one day, he would finally see the woman who had always stood right behind him.

Seven years passed. The company was now valued in the billions, and to him, I was just someone to "pass the time with."

My phone buzzed. It was Ethan.

"Chloe, cancel tomorrow morning's meeting. I have some personal business to take care of."

I already knew, but I asked anyway, "Should I arrange a car for you?"

"No need, I'll pick up Rachel myself."

"Rachel." He said it so naturally.

"Alright. Do you need me to prep anything else?"

"No, just..." He paused. "Get some rest early."

Before he hung up, I heard Rachel's voice in the background: "Ethan, who's calling you this late?"

"Nobody, just the company secretary. Wrapping up some work."

"Secretary."

A single title, drawing an unmistakable line between us.