Chapter 6

The three-day transition period flew by.

I didn't hand over any substantive client information, leaving only superficial documents of no consequence.

On the afternoon of the third day, I walked out of the building where I'd worked for five years, carrying a cardboard box.

The sunlight was a bit blinding.

I took a deep breath of freedom.

"Sasha!"

Urgent footsteps sounded behind me.

Ethan rushed out and grabbed my arm.

I shook off his hand in disgust, looking at him coldly.

Today he wore a well-tailored suit, his hair meticulously styled, but his face showed a kind of condescending, pained expression.

"Do you have to make this so ugly?"

Ethan frowned, his tone full of reproach.

"You haven't shown your face these three days, and the transition documents are a mess.

Mr. Wade is very angry."

"Whether he's angry or not is none of my business."

I jostled the box in my hands.

Ethan took a deep breath, suppressing his anger, and put on an affectionate face.

"Sasha, I know you feel wronged.

But you have to understand my position.

Lily has a powerful background.

We can't afford to offend her.

What can you do out there alone?

This industry is only so big.

Without Mr. Wade's reference letter, you can't even find a decent job."

He paused, stepped forward, and tried to take my hand again.

"Stop being stubborn.

Go back and apologize to Mr. Wade.

Humble yourself.

I'll give you the director position and work as your deputy.

We'll start fresh, okay?"

Looking at this face that once captivated me, I only felt my stomach churning with nausea.

"Ethan Miller, do you know what you look like right now?"

I stepped back, creating distance.

"What?"

"A dog that wants to eat shit but also finds it disgusting."

Ethan's face instantly turned ashen.

"Sasha!

Watch your language!

I'm trying to help you!"

"Help me?"

I laughed coldly, my eyes like knives.

"Helping me by throwing me under the bus without hesitation to protect your little mistress when things went wrong?

Helping me by watching me get buried under ten million in debt and blacklisted across the industry?"

"What are you talking about!

What industry blacklist!"

Ethan's eyes shifted, clearly guilty.

"Drop that disgusting act of deep affection."

I moved closer to him, lowering my voice.

"From the moment I signed that paper, we were completely done.

You'd better pray you never fall into my hands, because if you do, I'll make you wish you were dead."

With that, I stopped looking at his face that changed colors like a palette and turned toward the curb.

A black Maybach glided silently to a stop in front of me.

The rear window slowly descended, revealing Jackson Cross's chiseled profile.

He wore gold-rimmed glasses, adding a touch of refined menace to his appearance.

He glanced at Ethan frozen in place, then his gaze landed on me, a playful smile curling his lips.

"Miss Clarke, get in.

Let's discuss your 'guaranteed profit.'"

I opened the door and got in without hesitation.

The car pulled away smoothly.

In the rearview mirror, Ethan's face was twisted beyond recognition.