Eliza's POV
After failing to get promoted to management for the fifth time, my mom called again, urging me to come home for another blind date. Normally, I wouldve refused without hesitation. But this time, I answered calmly.
Maybe it was because Id lost yet another promotion to my long-time rival, so frustrated and unwilling to accept it, I decided to confront my boyfriend, who also happened to be my boss, and ask why.
But before I could knock on his door, I overheard him talking to someone inside.
Eliza practically grew up under your guidance. Why do you keep voting for someone else every time theres a promotion? the other person asked.
Sean Thompson let out a short, amused laugh. I give her the affection she wants and give Mr. Bellamys daughter the position she wants to keep both of them around. Everyone gains something. Isnt maximizing benefits the smartest move?
The other person sounded shocked. Youre ruthless. You string her along with the lowest-cost version of love. Arent you afraid shell get disappointed and walk away?
But his tone was casual, confident as he replied, Were just sleeping together. Its mutual. If she leaves, its no real loss.
Then he added, almost lazily, But she stopped using protection last month. I doubt shes actually willing to go.
In that moment, he tore apart the last shred of dignity I had, and with it was the five years of love I had so carefully convinced myself to be real.
I ripped up the appeal form in my hand and bought the earliest ticket home. Maybe it was time to let go of the job I couldnt earn in seven years and the love I couldnt keep.

Before I could toss the shredded pieces away, Yvette Bellamy snatched them from me.
An appeal form? Youre really planning to file again? She let out a mocking laugh. Eliza, people should know their limits. Failing once or twice can be chalked up to bad luck. But five times? You still think its bad luck?
She flicked the shreds of paper into my face. If your character doesnt match the position, no amount of appeals will help.
I suddenly remembered the four neatly stacked rejection slips tucked in the bottom of my drawereach one stamped with insufficient capability, each one written by Sean. For the first time, I found it all strangely funny.
Every time he coaxed me, saying he couldnt make it look like favoritism, it was like forcing me to swallow something unbearably bitter, with no way to spit it out.
Id closed six multimillion-dollar deals in seven years, ranked first in quarterly performance thirteen times, ended up in the hospital twice to fix the messes my colleagues left behind, and not a single client who worked with me ever doubted my ability.
In the past, I wouldve argued with Yvette, fought to prove I wasnt incompetent. But now, I was tired.
Because every argument would just end with me standing in front of Sean, listening to him say something like: Past achievements dont matter. If your overall capability isnt enough, accept it.
And then, manipulated again, Id throw myself back into work, trying to prove myself and helping him reach his low-cost, high-return goals.
But in the end, I finally realized the truth that the person who had never been treated fairly was me.
Sean, you really knew how to plan for your own benefit.
Tears splashed onto my phone screen, then a sharp ding sounded as the screen lit up.
[Come to my office.]
My numb heart jumped twice, still foolishly holding onto a trace of hope.
But as I approached his office, I heard Yvette crying inside.
All right, stop crying, he said gently. If I say youre qualified, then youre qualified. Ill handle her.
Sean's soft, patient voice stabbed my chest like a dull knife, twisting, scraping open wounds that never had the chance to heal.
Six months ago, when Yvette spread rumors that I had slept with a client to close a deal, and the clients wife beat me so badly I could only drink liquid food for two days, I had stood in front of him just like this, begging him to clear my name.
But all he said was: Dont be so dramatic and na?ve. In the workplace, innocence speaks for itself.
Bitterness spread through my wounds.
But I had to admit, he never gave me much love to begin with.


Eliza's POV
I pushed the door open, feeling numb.
Sean froze mid-gesture, his hand still near Yvettes face as he wiped her tears. His expression darkened the moment he saw me.
I heard youre unhappy about Miss Bellamys promotion. His voice was cold. Has no one ever told you that the workplace isnt run on gossip? Is it really that hard to admit someone is more capable than you?
I blinked, stunned. I didnt
But he cut me off sharply. Write a one-thousand-word reflection. Youll apologize publicly at the afternoon meeting.
A baseless accusation against me, and he demanded an apology. Meanwhile, the rumors that had been hammered into his ears were treated like air.
Before, I used to convince myself he was simply keeping personal and professional matters separate.
But now that I knew Id always been nothing more than cheap labor to him, I didnt even have the strength to defend myself.
I swallowed the bitterness and lowered my gaze, forcing a small smile.
Youre right, I said quietly. I admit Im not as capable. Ill apologize.
Then I bowed slightly to Yvette and added, Miss Bellamy, I was wrong. I shouldnt have questioned your ability. I shouldnt have even thought about filing for a review.
Despite that, she didnt respond.
I was about to lift my head, but Sean pressed a firm hand against my lower back, forcing me down.
He then leaned close to my ear, his voice soft and almost coaxing. I promised her father I wouldnt let her suffer. Just bear with it a little and put on a show.
His hand pressed down harder, pushing directly on my injured lower back. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through me, stealing my breath.
Yes, Yvettes father had helped him once, and he wanted to repay that favor. But what about me?
Years ago, during an inspection of a construction site, a machine malfunctioned. Without thinking, I rushed forward to shield him from the swinging control lever, and it smashed into the side of my lower back, leaving me with a serious injury.
Back then, he had red eyes as he asked if I had a death wish. He massaged my back every day during my recovery.
And now, he was pressing down on the very injury I got for him all to help the person who had humiliated me.
What a ridiculous way to repay kindness.
Those few seconds felt like an eternity. By the time I raised my head again, it felt like my waist had snapped in half.
Yvette let out a dramatic gasp, pretending to be concerned. Oh my, I almost forgot. Eliza hurt her back saving you, didnt she? Mr. Thompson, you really dont know how to cherish a woman. How cold-hearted.
His hand loosened instantly. A shadow crossed his face. If if theres nothing else, you can go.
I bit down on my lip, trembling, and forced myself upright despite the tearing pain. Then I walked out.
But it was Yvettes words that cut the deepest.
There were so many ways he couldve staged an apology. Yet he chose the one that caused me the most physical pain.
Back at my desk, it took a long time before I could even gather the strength to hand my resignation letter to my supervisor.
He had tried to fight for my promotion too, but once Sean said no, there was nothing he could change.
Youve contributed seven years to this company, he said softly. Mr. Thompson knows that. Youre still young. Youll have more chances in the future. Are you sure you dont want to wait a little longer?