After His Affair with HR, I Ended His Career

Chapter 1

Three years. Three years of loving Jake Morrison with every fiber of my being. Three years of supporting his dreams, celebrating his victories, and planning our future together. Tonight was supposed to be special—our anniversary dinner at Maison Laurent, the restaurant where we'd had our first date.

I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing a strand of hair behind my ear. The bouquet of white roses—his favorite—lay on the passenger seat beside me. I'd left work early to pick them up, along with a vintage watch I'd been saving for months to buy him. Jake had been working late all week on the Henderson campaign, and I wanted to surprise him, to remind him that even in the midst of his rising career at Blackstone Entertainment, we still had each other.

The elevator hummed as it carried me to the fourteenth floor. The office was nearly empty at this hour, most of the staff having left for the day. Only a few desk lamps illuminated the open workspace, casting long shadows across the sleek, modern furniture. I twisted the silver ring my grandmother had given me—a nervous habit I'd developed over the years—as I approached Jake's corner office.

The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. I heard voices—low murmurs punctuated by soft laughter. Jake wasn't alone. I hesitated, not wanting to interrupt if he was with a client. But then I heard her voice—Sophia Blake, head of talent acquisition. Something in her tone made me pause, my hand frozen in mid-air before knocking.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me," Jake's voice, husky and intimate in a way I'd only ever heard directed at me.

"Do I?" Sophia's reply was playful, teasing. "Maybe you should show me again."

My heart stuttered. I pushed the door open just enough to see inside, praying I was misinterpreting, that this was some innocent work conversation.

But there they were, behind his desk. Jake's hands tangled in Sophia's dark hair, her body pressed against his, their lips locked in a passionate embrace that spoke of familiarity, of a relationship well beyond its beginning stages. His suit jacket was draped over his chair, her blouse partially unbuttoned. On his desk, I could see the framed photo of us from our trip to Catalina Island last summer, now turned face-down.

The roses slipped from my grasp, but I caught them before they hit the floor. Neither of them noticed me—they were too consumed with each other. I backed away silently, my mind struggling to process what my eyes had just witnessed.

Somehow, I made it to the elevator. Somehow, I pressed the button for the parking garage. Somehow, I walked to my car on legs that felt disconnected from my body.

Only when I was safely inside, doors locked, did the trembling begin. It started in my hands, spreading through my body until I was shaking uncontrollably. The tears came next, hot and silent, streaming