Chapter 2

Tears started falling before I realized it.

I hurriedly wiped at my face, but ended up knocking over my cold dinner on the desk.

Leftover food was scattered everywhere, leaving a mess all over the floor.

I finally couldn't take it anymore and ended up crouching on the floor, bawling my eyes out.

Meanwhile, Henry was in his riverfront villa, having Christmas Eve dinner with his wife and kid, digging into the best food in the world.

Maybe after dinner, they'd snuggle up by the window to watch the fireworks, or chill on the couch, catching the Christmas show on TV.

But me? I was stuck working late in a dark office building. No overtime pay, and my dinner was a three-dollar hot dog.

I didn't know how long I'd been crying when my phone started ringing.

When I picked up, Henry's voice came on the line. "Bea, Merry Christmas! I'm still out here looking for investors. I'll take care of things out here. You keep things running at the company. Next year, let's grow the company together."

I sniffled hard, trying to push down the bitterness in my throat. "What are you doing right now?"

Henry sounded as tired and needy as always. "Just finished a work dinner. My stomach's killing me from all the booze. I wish you were here."

In the past, whenever he said that, my heart would ache for him, and I'd always reply, "Don't worry, you've got me."

Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, he'd hand off tougher tasks to me.

This time, I didn't say anything back.

There was a brief silence on the line before he spoke up, "Oh, by the way, Bea, looks like you won't be able to head home tomorrow after all.

"Khalid Morris from Aurora Group is bringing his wife and kid to Rivergate for a trip on the third day of Christmas break. You'll need to be their guide the whole time."

I kept rescheduling and canceling my train ticket home before Christmas, over and over again.

I'd lost track of how many times my trip home got postponed.

All I remembered was my grandma calling me over and over again, her voice always soft and careful. "Bea, are you coming home this year? Grandma made your favorite dishes for you."

With my voice trembling uncontrollably, I asked him, "Why is it always me? I've worked nonstop all year, and I haven't been home in forever. And Grandma's sick. You know I have to go see her."

Henry's tone suddenly went cold, launching into the same old spiel. "The company's ours, you know. I'm out here grinding for investors, so of course, you've got to cover things back at the company for me.

"Whether this deal goes through or not, it all comes down to how you handle this guide work. You're the only one I trust to pull it off."

When I stayed silent, he switched to a gentler tone, trying to coax me. "Hang in there, okay? Once we seal this deal, I'll go back with you.

"You know your grandma's been dying to see you get married, right? Once we're stable, we'll go back together and make it a big deal, okay?"

Before I could say anything else, he hung up.

This wasn't the first time he'd made promises like that.

Back when we'd been secretly dating for three years, he found out I only had my grandma to rely on.

Ever since then, "I'll go home with you to see your grandma" became another empty promise he dangled in front of me. But he never actually made it happen.

On a summer day before last, I got a raging fever. But Henry sent me out to drop off a contract at the city's west end in the pouring rain.

He said, "Take the contract over there and get it signed. Once that's done, I'll go with you to visit your grandma."

On the fourth Christmas, when he had me skip my holiday, he said, "Pull an all-nighter on Christmas Eve this year. Once we're through this busy stretch, I promise I'll go home with you."

Even now, he's still feeding me the same line. "Once we've got our own place in Rivergate and things are stable, we'll go back to see your grandma and have her move in with us."

But the truth was, he'd had a place all along.

It was a spacious riverfront villa, glowing with lights. And the woman running that house wasn't me.

My phone suddenly buzzed, and a message from Henry popped up on the screen. [Hey, don't be so upset. It's Christmas. Go buy yourself some good food, and when I'm back, I'll make it up to you.

[Money's tight at the company this year. Sorry you're having a rough time. Next year, I'll make sure you get more.]

Then a digital transfer notification appeared on the screen.

I didn't bother clicking it, but I already knew the most he'd send was no more than fifty dollars.

Meanwhile, that woman posted an update. [My husband's company's entire annual profit, every single penny, got transferred straight to my bank account.]

She attached a screenshot of her bank balance that ended with a clean string of eight zeros.

Some netizens, like me, had dug into her profile after seeing that "managing employees" post, and one of them asked, [Your husband made so much this year.

[How much did he have to pay that girl to make her work herself to the bone?]

She shot back a sneering reply. [Fifty bucks, tops. Honestly, I couldn't watch anymore, so I told him to toss that workhorse a little tip for all her late nights.]