Chapter 2

The next morning, I walked into Ethan's office as usual, carrying a warm black coffee.

He was leaning back in his chair, chatting and laughing with Serena. Seeing me enter, Serena immediately wiped the smile from her face and put on the air of a superior director.

"Assistant Reed, just put the coffee down," Serena said imperiously. "Oh, by the way, I heard you have an idea bank on your computer, filled with creative drafts from over the years? Could you copy it for me? I'm a bit short on inspiration lately."

I sneered inwardly.

That was my accumulated treasure trove of material from three years of day and night work, my core competitive advantage. She thinks she can just open her mouth and claim it?

"Director Monroe, those are just rough drafts, completely disorganized. I'm afraid they'd offend your eyes," I said, feigning apprehension, lowering my head.

"Why are you talking so much nonsense?" Ethan tapped the table impatiently. "Serena asked you to copy it, so copy it. It's your honor if your subpar stuff can give Serena some inspiration. Go quickly!"

"Yes, Mr. Vance."

I obediently retreated.

Back at my desk, I opened the folder named "Inspiration Bank" and transferred all core, valuable proposals to my encrypted cloud drive. Then, I downloaded hundreds of generic, free PowerPoint templates and cliché ad copy from the internet, bundled them into a folder, named it "Core Creative Library," and sent it to Serena.

Trying to get something for nothing? Dream on.

That afternoon, while making tea in the pantry, I called my headhunter.

"Hello, Mark? It's Summer Reed. Yes, have you seen my portfolio? ...Okay, Starwing Media? No problem, I can interview anytime."

Starwing Media, the undisputed industry leader, and Ethan's company's biggest rival.

Hanging up the phone, I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders.

That evening was the company's celebration banquet.

The banquet hall buzzed with lights, laughter, and clinking glasses. Ethan, with Serena on his arm, moved among investors and major clients, elevating her to a pedestal.

As the nominal "chief assistant," I was relegated to the furthest table, crammed with a few interns.

"Hey, look at Summer Reed, she looks so pathetic. She followed Mr. Vance for three years and couldn't even get a title. Now that his official girlfriend is back, she's completely out of the picture."

"Right? An associate degree holder, really thought she could become a Cinderella story. She only had some looks, good enough to warm Mr. Vance's bed, that's all."

The colleagues' whispers stung like knives, but I just continued eating the food on my plate, expressionless.

What were a few cold words? Compared to what I was about to do, this was just a warm-up.

After a few rounds of drinks, a corpulent, greasy-faced Mr. Hayes, a key channel partner for the company and notoriously lecherous, swayed over with a drink in hand.

"Well, well, isn't this little Summer? Why are you hiding here drinking alone?" Mr. Hayes plopped down beside me, his greasy hand brazenly rested on my thigh, giving it a hard squeeze through the thin fabric.

My body froze, my stomach churning with nausea.

I shot up, backing away a couple of steps, and said coldly, "Mr. Hayes, you're drunk. Show some respect."

"Don't act so high and mighty!" Mr. Hayes, his pride wounded, grew angry. "Everyone knows you're Ethan Vance's cast-off! What, Ethan Vance gets to sleep with you, but I can't even touch you? Spend a night with me tonight, and I'll get you a big deal!"

The commotion drew everyone's attention.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, watching me like a show.

I looked at Ethan.

He stood not far away, glass in hand, his eyes as cold as if he were looking at a stranger. Not only did he not step in to stop it, but a smirk played on his lips, as if enjoying the spectacle.

At that moment, my last illusion about him shattered completely.

This was the man I had spent three years with. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a plaything to be used to appease clients.

Just then, Serena Monroe sauntered over, swaying her hips.

She daintily grabbed Mr. Hayes's arm, cooing, "Oh, Mr. Hayes, why bother with an ignorant assistant? Come, Serena will toast you. Consider it an apology on her behalf."

Mr. Hayes's attention immediately shifted to Serena, his eyes lecherously fixated on her cleavage. "Ms. Monroe is much more sensible. Fine, I'll give Mr. Vance some face!"

Serena turned, looking at me with a triumphant gaze, and falsely said, "Assistant Reed, aren't you going to thank Mr. Hayes for his generosity? In the future, in the workplace, keep your eyes open and don't always cause trouble."

I looked at the despicable pair and suddenly found it utterly comical.

Without a word, I picked up a glass of red wine from the table and, to everyone's stunned silence, splashed it directly onto Mr. Hayes's greasy face with a loud "splash"!

"Ah! You bitch!" Mr. Hayes shrieked, clutching his eyes and cursing.

The entire hall fell silent.

Ethan Vance's face turned ashen. He rushed over, raising his hand to slap me. "Summer Reed! Have you lost your mind?!"

I met his gaze without fear, and coldly uttered three words: "I was disgusted."

With that, I walked out of the banquet room without looking back, leaving the mess behind me entirely.