My Fiancée Drank From Her Assistant’s Glass, So I Ended Our Engagement

At the company dinner, Cheryl Delgado sat down next to her male assistant.

Right in front of me, she peeled shrimp for him with an intimacy that was impossible to miss.

Then she picked up his wine glass and drank from it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The next day, I found her. My voice was calm.

"Effective today, I'm stepping down from the board."

"Also, our arranged engagement, the one our families set up when we were kids. Let's call it off."

She blinked. Then she let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Over something this trivial? You're throwing another tantrum?"

"Drew Dickerson, how old are you? Seriously, grow up."

Twenty years. Childhood sweethearts for twenty years. Everyone knew how much she meant to me.

She was certain I'd never let go.

What she didn't know was that this time, I meant every word.

Cheryl slammed the folder in her hand onto the desk, her red lips curving into a contemptuous smirk.

She wore a sharply tailored white suit today, the fabric setting off her porcelain skin.

But those beautiful almond-shaped eyes held nothing but impatience.

"Drew, how old are you? Seriously, grow up," she said, her tone light and dismissive.

The way she looked at me, I might as well have been a child throwing a fit over nothing.

"Trivial?"

My voice was quiet, but the air in the office seemed to go still.

"In front of the entire company, you peeled shrimp for your assistant. You drank from his glass."

"And you call that trivial?"

Cheryl answered without a shred of concern.

"Douglas hurt his hand yesterday. What's wrong with me peeling a few shrimp for him?"

She stood, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

"Drew, don't you think you're being a little oversensitive?"

"As for the wine glass," she added lazily, "I just grabbed the wrong one. Since when did you become so petty?"

Cheryl loved getting her nails done. She hated peeling shrimp more than anything.

She was also a germaphobe who never shared a glass with anyone. Not even me.

I knew all of this. My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms.

She was always like this. She could always use that effortlessly dismissive tone to make my feelings sound worthless.

Just then, a soft knock came at the office door.

"Sorry to interrupt. Is this a bad time?"

A smooth, gentle voice drifted in from the doorway.

We both turned.

Douglas Gilbert stood at the threshold in a tailored charcoal suit, his handsome face arranged into just the right amount of apologetic concern.

His gaze drifted between us before settling on me.

A flicker of satisfaction passed through his eyes. Barely perceptible.

Nauseating.

"Get out."

I pointed toward the door.

Cheryl's expression shifted instantly.

"Drew! What kind of way is that to talk to someone?"

She strode over to Douglas and looped her arm through his as if it were second nature.

"Douglas is here to deliver the quarterly report. And this is my office. Who gave you the right to tell him to leave?"

She turned to Douglas, her voice softening. "Ignore Drew. He clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

Douglas put on an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, Mr. Dickerson. I didn't realize you two were in the middle of something."

"I'll go."

He made as if to turn, but Cheryl held his arm firmly in place.

"You're not going anywhere." Cheryl shot me a cold glance. "The one who should leave is the person making a scene over nothing."

Douglas lowered his head. The corner of his mouth twitched upward, so faintly it was almost invisible.

The expression vanished in an instant, but I caught it.

Because I knew his games all too well.

Humble on the surface. Calculating underneath.

Ever since he'd joined the company six months ago, he had played the role of the gentle, considerate, reasonable man in front of Cheryl.

And whenever the opportunity arose, he found ways to undermine me, sometimes openly, sometimes behind my back.

"Ms. Delgado, Mr. Dickerson, please don't do this." Douglas's voice was soft, conciliatory. "Mr. Dickerson is probably just in a bad mood. I'll come back later."

The words said one thing. His feet said another. He didn't move an inch.

And just like that, Cheryl's heart went out to him.

She took Douglas by the arm, led him into the office, and sat him down on the sofa.

"Douglas, you're too kind for your own good."

"Drew is clearly the one in the wrong, and you're still making excuses for him."

"You sit right here. You're not the one who needs to leave." She turned on me, her expression ice-cold. "Drew, apologize to Douglas. Now."

I let out a dry laugh.

"Apologize? To him?"

I pointed straight at Douglas.

"Do either of you have any idea what he's been doing behind your backs? That hundred-million-dollar bid we lost last month? That was because of him"

"Enough!" Cheryl cut me off without a shred of hesitation. "Drew, you're becoming impossible."

"Douglas was working on that bid until three in the morning. Where were you?"

"Losing a bid happens. He gave it everything he had."

"What right do you have to blame him?"

Douglas lowered his head at just the right moment, the picture of wounded innocence. "Ms. Delgado, please, don't. Mr. Dickerson only wants what's best for the company. And the bid falling through really was my fault."

"It had nothing to do with you." Cheryl scoffed. "He's jealous of you, plain and simple. Looking for reasons to pick a fight."

"You've been with this company six months, and your results speak for themselves."

"Meanwhile, certain people coast on their board seat, do nothing all day, and have the nerve to criticize everyone else's work."

"It's pathetic."

A chill spread through my chest.

That bid was mine. I'd shepherded it from the ground up, and it had been all but guaranteed.

Then, in the final stretch, while I was away on a business trip, Cheryl made a unilateral decision. She handed full control to Douglas. Said it would be a good learning opportunity for the new guy.

The result? Critical details were altered. The client was furious. A rival firm swooped in and took the deal.

This was my childhood sweetheart. The girl I'd stood by for twenty years.

For the sake of an outsider, she could twist the truth this completely.

Douglas was clearly rattled, but he put on an earnest face and stepped closer to me.

"Mr. Dickerson, if I've done anything wrong, I sincerely apologize."

"We're all on the same team here. There's no need for things to get this ugly."

He was too close. I shoved him back on instinct.

I barely used any force, but Douglas stumbled backward several steps and crashed into the coffee table with a dull grunt.

"Drew! Have you lost your mind?"

Cheryl rushed to his side instantly, steadying him, her eyes blazing.

"You put your hands on him?" Her voice shook with fury. "Douglas has bent over backward to accommodate you, and this is what you do?"

"Is throwing tantrums the only thing you're good at?"

Douglas sagged against Cheryl, shaking his head weakly. "Ms. Delgado, I'm fine. I just slipped. Please don't blame Mr. Dickerson..."

I watched his flawless performance, and something inside me simply gave out.

I was done. Done with this circus.

I turned toward the door.

"Fine. If he's not leaving, I am."

"Stop right there!" Cheryl's voice cracked like a whip. "You haven't apologized to Douglas!"

I stopped walking.

"I'm not going to apologize."

"As of today, I'm done with both of you."

"The board seat? Give it to whoever you want."

"And the arranged engagement... consider it a joke."

Cheryl's brow furrowed. "Drew, are you threatening me?"

I didn't look back.

"Think whatever you want."

Back home, I started clearing out everything connected to her.

The photo albums were full of good memories.

But as I burned them, I felt nothing. Not even a ripple.

Maybe that's what it really meant when a heart finally died.

At dinner, my parents noticed something was off.

Mom placed a piece of braised pork in my bowl and asked softly, "Drew, honey, is something going on?"

"You seem like you've got a lot on your mind."

Dad set down his newspaper too, his eyes full of quiet concern.

I stared at the food in my bowl. After a long silence, I finally spoke.

"Dad. Mom. I've decided to go abroad to study."

The air seemed to freeze.

Mom's hand paused mid-reach. Dad's brow furrowed slightly.

They exchanged a glance, and something unspoken passed between them.

"You're sure?" Dad's voice was steady. No questioning. No attempt to talk me out of it.

"Yeah. I'm sure." I nodded, my voice firm.

Mom let out a quiet sigh and reached over to pat my shoulder. "Back then, you gave up your chance to study overseas for Cheryl. If this is what you've decided now, we're behind you."

A flicker of heartache crossed her eyes, but beneath it was something closer to relief.

Dad lifted his tea, took a slow sip, and said evenly, "Getting out might do you good. A change of scenery helps you see things more clearly."

"As for the arranged engagement your grandfather set up, I'll explain things to the Delgados."

I lowered my head. A sour ache bloomed in my chest.

When I'd given up studying abroad to start the company with Cheryl, my parents hadn't said a word against it. But I knew they'd carried that regret quietly all these years.

And now, after everything, I'd come full circle. Right back to where I started.

After dinner, I went to my room and opened the app to book a flight.

My phone buzzed. A message from Cheryl.

"Zenith Group sent someone over. They specifically asked to see you."

"I'll pick you up in ten minutes."

I stared at the screen, jaw tight.

Zenith Group was the company's biggest client. I'd managed that account personally. Years of work, years of relationship-building.

I hesitated for a long time before typing back: "Got it."

Ten minutes later, a black sedan pulled up in front of my house.

The window rolled down. Cheryl leaned out, impatience threading through her voice. "Get in. Don't keep Uncle Rufus waiting."

My gaze drifted to the passenger seat. Douglas turned his head and flashed me a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Mr. Dickerson." His voice was warm, but his gaze clung like something venomous. "It's an honor to accompany you to meet such an important client."

I let out a cold laugh and stepped back.

"Go without me. I'm not coming."

Cheryl's expression shifted instantly.

"Drew! What is that supposed to mean?"

"Uncle Rufus asked for you by name, and you're pulling this now?"

I looked at Douglas. Said nothing.

Right on cue, he ducked his head and put on a wounded expression. "Mr. Dickerson, if I've done something wrong, I sincerely apologize."

"But work comes first. Please don't let me be the reason you miss something important."

As he spoke, his eyes began to redden at the rims, as if he'd suffered some tremendous injustice.

Cheryl's brow creased at the sight. Her voice turned sharp. "Drew, Douglas has already humbled himself. What more do you want?"

"Don't push it!"

Douglas bit his lower lip at just the right moment, his voice trembling. "Ms. Delgado, maybe I should just get out of the car. I don't want to make things difficult for Mr. Dickerson."

He made a show of reaching for his seatbelt, but his hands moved so slowly it was like someone had hit the pause button.

"No!"

Cheryl pressed down on Douglas's shoulder and whipped her head around to glare at me.

"Drew, how long are you going to keep acting like this?"

"Douglas has given everything for this company, and what about you?"

"What do you do besides throw tantrums?"

"Get in the car!"

"I don't have the patience to argue with you."

I looked at her coldly. "You want me in that car? Fine. Fire Douglas Gilbert right now. Tell him to pack his things."

The color drained from Cheryl's face.

Douglas lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly, as if he were fighting to hold back some deep well of hurt.

"Drew, that's enough!"

Cheryl shoved the car door open, her heels striking the pavement hard.

"Have you lost your mind? What has Douglas done wrong? What gives you the right to fire him?"

She stormed toward me, jabbing a finger in my face. "You're being completely unreasonable!"

"Everyone can see how capable Douglas is. Who are you to dismiss him with a single word?"

That was when Douglas finally "couldn't hold it in" anymore.

He stepped out of the car with reddened eyes, moved behind Cheryl, and said softly, "Ms. Delgado, please don't fight with Mr. Dickerson because of me..."

"If my being here makes Mr. Dickerson uncomfortable, I... I can resign on my own..."

A second later, actual tears slid down his cheeks, and Cheryl's heart shattered on the spot.

She spun around and grabbed his hand. "Douglas, you've done nothing wrong. The only one at fault here is a certain petty, small-minded person!"

"The company needs you. I will never let you suffer this kind of treatment!"

I watched the whole performance unfold and found it so absurd I almost laughed.

"Mr. Dickerson." Douglas's voice cracked. "I know that from my very first day at the company, you've never liked me."

"But I truly want us to get along. If you'd just give me a chance, I promise I'll work twice as hard. I won't let you down..."

His acting was getting better by the day.

I let out a cold laugh.

When I still refused to budge, Cheryl was shaking with fury. "Drew, Douglas has already bent over backward for you. You still won't let him be?"

"Do you want to push him to his breaking point before you're satisfied?"

"You've gone too far! In what way is Douglas not your equal?"

"He works harder than you. He's more considerate than you. He cares more about this company than you ever have!"

"And you, as one of the company's founders, what do you do besides throw your weight around and bully him?"

I had no interest in continuing this circus. I turned and walked away.

But Douglas suddenly rushed forward and grabbed my wrist.

"Mr. Dickerson, please don't go! The Zenith Group deal can't happen without you!"

I shook his hand off. He used the momentum to tumble to the ground, letting out a sharp cry of pain.

Cheryl rushed over immediately, pulling him up, her eyes blazing with fury and heartbreak.

"Drew! You put your hands on him again?"

Douglas curled up on the ground, clutching his arm, tears rolling down his face in fat, heavy drops.

"Don't blame Mr. Dickerson... I just lost my balance..."

I left without looking back.

Cheryl's furious shouting chased me down the street.

The next morning, the moment I stepped through the company doors, the entire office went silent.

Every pair of eyes found me, studying me with complicated expressions before quickly dropping back to their screens, pretending to be busy.

I walked straight to my office and started packing my things.

I had barely set a framed photo into a cardboard box when the door flew open.

Cheryl stormed in.

The second she saw what I was doing, something flickered in her eyes that I'd never seen before. Panic.

She slammed her hand down on the files I was gathering. "Drew, how far are you going to take this?"

I pulled my hand free and went back to emptying the drawer.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear yesterday."

"You didn't mean any of that!" Cheryl stamped her foot, her voice climbing. "Twenty years we've been in each other's lives. You can't just throw that away!"

I stopped packing and looked up at her.

"Twenty years... so you do remember."

She bit her lip.

"Look, I know yesterday went too far. But you started it by going after Douglas. You can't blame me for getting angry."

"Enough!" I slammed the drawer shut. "Don't say that name in front of me."

The office plunged into silence.

Then a commotion erupted outside.

Someone screamed down the hall: "Oh my God, Assistant Gilbert is going to jump!"

The color drained from Cheryl's face.

She didn't even glance at me. She bolted out the door like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.

When it came to choosing between me and Douglas, she never hesitated.

I let out a bitter laugh, picked up my cardboard box, and headed for the elevator.

As I passed the lounge at the end of the corridor, I caught sight of Douglas through the floor-to-ceiling windows. He was sitting on the ledge, legs dangling over the edge, swinging them back and forth.

A crowd had already gathered on the street below. Fire truck sirens wailed, growing louder as they approached.

"This is all my fault! I'm the one who ruined the company!" Douglas's voice drifted in through the open window, thick with sobs. "If I hadn't made Mr. Dickerson angry, Zenith Group never would've pulled out of the deal..."

Cheryl stood by the window, nearly frantic.

"Douglas, get down from there! This isn't your fault!"

"So what if we lost the partnership? You can't do this to yourself!"

Then she spotted me. She lunged forward and grabbed my arm like I was a lifeline.

"Drew, call Rufus Swanson. Right now!"

"If he agrees to keep the deal going, Douglas won't do anything rash!"

I shook her hand off, cold.

"Call him yourself."

"Drew!" Her voice turned sharp as a whip crack. "Douglas already apologized. Are you really not going to stop until someone dies?"

She snatched a fruit knife off the table and pressed it against her own throat without a second of hesitation.

"If you don't make that call today, I'll die right here in front of you!"

The blade bit into her pale skin, leaving a thin red line.

The scene was so familiar it ached.

When I was fourteen, cornered by a gang of thugs in an alley, Cheryl had stood in front of me just like this, clutching a box cutter. Her eyes had been fierce and unwavering. "Anyone who touches him answers to me!"

Now those same eyes burned with the same fire.

But this time, she was protecting another man.

I stared at the bead of blood welling on her neck.

Slowly, I pulled out my phone and dialed Uncle Rufus.

"Uncle Rufus, it's me... Yeah, about the partnership..."

The moment I hung up, Douglas was helped down from the ledge.

He threw himself into Cheryl's arms, sobbing.

She let out a long breath of relief and turned to me with a smile.

"See? Isn't this so much better when everyone gets along?"

I said nothing. I picked up my box and walked away.

She froze, about to chase after me, when Douglas let out a pained groan behind her.

She stopped immediately.

"Douglas, what's wrong?"

"I think... I think my leg cramped up..."

The sunlight hit me like a blade when I stepped outside the building.

My phone buzzed. A message from Uncle Rufus.

"Kid, that phone call was an act for their benefit, wasn't it?"

"Don't worry. The partnership can pick back up anytime, but I only work with you."

I texted back a quick "thanks," then flagged down a cab.

As the car pulled away from the office building, I took one last look at the place where I'd spent five years of my life.

Then I blocked Cheryl's number. Every contact method, every platform. All of it.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.

I turned my gaze forward, toward the straight road ahead.

"The airport."