Chapter 2
"After everything we've been through together, you still can't trust me?" Mick said, his voice rising.
"Can't you put yourself in my shoes for once?"
When I didn't answer, he slammed his foot against the door in frustration and stormed off.
I wasn't surprised at all.
After all, every time we argued, I was always the one to back down first. Even when Mick was clearly at fault, I'd be the one to swallow my pride and give him an easy way out.
For him to actually admit he was wrong today? That was honestly unheard of.
How could he ever be as desperate for forgiveness as I was?
Lying in bed, I couldn't help but replay all the memories from the past few years in my mind.
When Mick and I first got together, he was so good to me.
He used to promise that just being with me made everything feel sweeter—even the air.
If I asked, he'd drop whatever he was doing and be by my side in a heartbeat.
He was really possessive.
Whenever I had any male friends around, he'd get all moody and sulky.
He'd even vet my female friends, checking if they were trustworthy enough to hang out with me.
He was always attentive to my needs, fussing over every little detail in my life.
To outsiders, his love might have seemed a bit overbearing, but I actually liked it.
But he had long gone from the person he used to be.
And I was no longer the girl whose whole heart revolved around him.
Just then, my phone buzzed on the pillow beside me.
I tapped the screen to see what it was.
It was a message from Laurel Grant, Mick's secretary.
[Mick, thanks to you, today was the happiest birthday I've had in years. I'm really grateful, and so happy.
[Oh, and I left you a surprise on my feed. Go take a look!]
I was still a bit out of it, and before I could say anything, the message was recalled.
[Whoops, sorry about that, Whitney. Wrong chat. Don't be mad, okay?]
I snorted, shook my head, and tossed my phone aside.
Was that really a slip-up, or was she just doing it on purpose?
When I first met Laurel, she was just a newbie straight out of college, totally new to the workforce.
She was always getting sidelined, never really fitting in anywhere.
One time, she made a mistake at work, and her boss was ready to fire her.
She came to me, sobbing uncontrollably, pouring out her troubles about her rough upbringing and how hard things were for her.
I gave her a chance and showed her the ropes myself.
That was how she got noticed by Mick.
When Mick personally requested she become his secretary, I didn't give it much thought—I was honestly happy for her.
Who could've guessed that someone who seemed so sweet was actually so manipulative underneath it all?
The one I took under my wing ended up stabbing me right in my weakest spot.
Early the next morning, I booked my flight home, then headed straight to the office to hand in my resignation letter.
Mick looked genuinely surprised when he saw the resignation letter on his desk.
"You're really doing this?" he asked.
With a smile, I shot back, "What else did you expect?"
Mick just went quiet.
After a long moment, he finally spoke up, "Please stay. The company needs you."
"The company isn't just mine," I said firmly.
Without waiting for his reply, I turned and headed for the door.
But just as I was about to walk out, Mick rushed over and grabbed my arm.
"Two days!" he called out urgently.
I turned to face him.
He looked genuinely panicked—something I'd almost never seen before.
"Just give me two days. Once I finish up my work, I'll go with you to get our marriage license. Please, trust me one more time," he begged.
I just looked at him, my expression calm and unreadable.
I stayed silent, giving him nothing in return.
"Just give me one more chance, okay?" he pleaded.
Mick looked genuinely anxious, like my answer really mattered to him.
Suddenly, a wicked thought crossed my mind—what if I told him right now that I was getting married, and my fiancé was none other than the brother he could never beat, the one who always overshadowed him since they were kids?
I wondered how he'd react to that. But I kept my mouth shut and just turned and left without another word.
When I got home, I stepped into the study and saw the whole room plastered with photos—every little memory from the past came rushing back to me.
But instead of feeling sentimental, I just felt restless.
I took down every single photo and tossed them all into the fire, watching them burn.
But halfway through, Mick, who was supposed to be at work, came home unexpectedly.
"What are you doing?!" he shouted.
When Mick saw me tearing up the photos, he cried out and rushed over, his face anxious and hurt.
He even tried to salvage the photos that were already burnt beyond recognition.
But the flames were already blazing, rising higher and higher.
He couldn't even get close.
"Why? Why are you doing this?!" Mick yelled, his voice quivering with anger.
He stared at me, his eyes rimmed with tears.
He seemed genuinely upset, not just faking it.
But somehow, I just found it ridiculous.
He treasured those photos like they were priceless.
But he never gave a damn about me—the living, breathing person right here.
Honestly, the irony of it all was almost laughable.
Expressionless, I snatched the photos from Mick and threw them straight into the fire.
"What's the point of keeping pictures when the love is gone?" My voice was flat, distant.
Mick was taken aback. "Are you still mad about that day?"
Before I could even get a word out, he roared at me, his anger barely contained, "What do you want from me?!"