Chapter 4

Lena POV

The next day, I went to the architecture firm as usual.

My colleagues looked at me with sympathy and curiosity. News of what happened at last night's Whitmore Corporation gala had spread. Everyone knew that Lena, the girl Ethan Whitmore had held in the palm of his hand, was out.

I acted like nothing had happened, sitting at my desk organizing my resignation letter and handover documents.

At three in the afternoon, the firm's glass door was pushed open.

Ethan walked in wearing a tailored suit, his posture upright. He carried a box from that French patisserie in Manhattan that was hardest to get.

Before, he would personally queue up every month to buy me matcha mousse from this shop.

Colleagues exchanged glances, thinking Ethan had come to make up with me.

But the next second, Vivian emerged from behind Ethan.

Ethan opened the box and took out the only strawberry Napoleon inside, tenderly handing it to Vivian. "You said yesterday you wanted to try this place. See how it tastes."

Vivian smiled sweetly, accepting the pastry, then turned to look at me. "Lena, Ethan said you love the matcha mousse from this shop most. He brought some for you too. Let's all eat together."

I didn't even look up, staring at my computer screen. "No thanks. I've given up sweets."

Ethan's brow furrowed slightly as he placed the matcha mousse on my desk. "There's a limit to throwing tantrums. Vivian specially came with me to bring you afternoon tea, and you're showing attitude? To whom?"

My fingers paused on the keyboard.

I finally looked up, my gaze calm as I looked at Ethan. "Ethan, this is an office area. If you're here to show off your relationship, please go outside."

"You!" Ethan's anger flared at my cold attitude.

Just then, Vivian suddenly exclaimed. "Wow, this model is so beautiful!"

She walked to my desk and reached for the wooden architectural model inside the glass case.

This was my life's work from my university graduation, which had won the highest-level international architecture student award. Back then, to polish this model, Ethan had stayed up three all-nighters with me, his fingers cut by the carving knife.

"Don't touch it!" I shouted.

Vivian was startled by my voice, her hand shaking, her fingertips catching the edge of the glass case.

Crash.

A crisp sound.

The glass case along with the intricate wooden model inside smashed to the floor, instantly breaking into pieces, becoming a pile of scrap wood.

The entire office area fell deathly silent.

My breathing stopped. I looked at the pile of fragments on the floor, and the tightly wound string in my mind finally snapped.

I shot up from my seat and shoved Vivian aside. "I told you not to touch it, don't you understand?!"

Vivian, wearing high heels, fell straight onto the glass-covered floor from my push, her palm instantly cut, blood flowing freely.

"Ah! It hurts..." Vivian cried, her face covered in tears.

"Vivian!" Ethan's expression changed drastically. He rushed over and gathered Vivian into his arms. Seeing the blood on her hand, he turned to look at me with eyes as cold as ice.

"Lena! Have you lost your mind?!"

"It's just a broken model. Did you really need to be so violent?!"

Ethan's roar echoed through the office area.

I stood there, cold all over.

A broken model?

Years ago, when he held my hand and assembled these wooden pieces bit by bit, he said. "Lena, this is the first 'home' we've built together. I'll always treasure it as priceless."

Now, for another woman's sake, he degraded our past as worthless.

I watched Ethan protectively hold Vivian with heartache in his eyes, and suddenly I laughed.

I laughed until tears nearly came, but my voice was oddly calm. "Yeah, just a broken model. Ethan is so rich. How do you plan to compensate?"