Chapter 2

It was nearly eleven when I got home.

I leaned back on the sofa. Not long after, Antoine returned.

"Why are you sitting here by yourself?"

"Waiting for you."

She walked over, loosening her cuffs, a barely suppressed irritation in her voice.

"You went too far tonight, Alexander. Chris is just an intern, a twenty-two-year-old kid who doesn't know any better. Was all that really necessary?"

"He's 'naive,' and you're just as naive?"

I looked at her, slowly lowering my legs from the sofa.

"Antoine, you know what kind of man I am, don't you?"

"Of course I do."

She tugged at her collar, then her voice slowly rose.

"You're just too controlling. An intern sat in my car, and you react like this? What will people outside think?"

"Do you think I care what people outside think?"

She paused.

"I have to take people with me for many things at the company. Giving him a ride when it's 'on the way,' what's wrong with that?"

"On the way?" I chuckled. "Our villa stands on its own private estate; everyone around here knows it. Antoine, what 'convenient route' are you talking about?"

Her face fell. She didn't speak for a long time.

After a good while, she finally spoke in a low voice.

"I'll take care of the car tomorrow. About Chris... can't you reconsider? He just graduated."

"What I've said stands."

"Alexander!"

"If you feel so bad for him," I interrupted her, getting up and walking towards the bedroom. "You can go comfort him right now. But if you walk out that door, don't bother coming back."

A long silence followed behind me.

When I woke up the next morning, there was a vehicle disposal receipt on the coffee table, next to a copy of Chris's termination paperwork.

The signature block bore Antoine's handwriting.

I picked it up, glanced at it, then put it back down. She wasn't foolish enough to directly defy me.

A short voice message came through on my SnapChat from Sarah.

"Mr. Williams, Chris's termination paperwork is finalized. Antoine signed it herself. But he cried for half an hour at reception when he left, though. Said you'd regret this eventually."

I replied: "Noted."

I'd heard words like that too many times. Not a single person who said them had ever made me regret anything.

I'm not someone who enjoys utterly destroying people.

But I have one flaw: the harder someone tries to hit me, the harder I hit back. I'll make sure they know regret will never be mine.

During lunch, I received a SnapChat from Antoine.

"Car's replaced, Chris is gone. Is that enough?"

I typed a few words back: "Depends on your performance."

She didn't reply again, and the matter seemed to be over.

But a month later, I realized something was off.

Antoine had been too quiet lately, uncharacteristically so.

That night, lying in bed, I scrolled through my company's project records for the past six months, focusing on projects she had overseen. I found a new supplier I didn't recognize, took a screenshot, and sent it to Sarah.

"What's the story with this company?"

Sarah's SnapChat reply came three minutes later. It was long, but one sentence was all I needed to see:

"Mr. Williams, I need to check further. The registered legal information for this company is a bit strange."

I stared at the company name for a long time, then placed my phone screen down on the pillow.

Before I went to sleep, I sent Antoine a SnapChat: "Breakfast together tomorrow."

She replied quickly: "Okay."

I turned off my phone, closed my eyes, and muttered, "Antoine, you'd better not disappoint me."