Chapter2

I clutched my phone in my hand, the screen reflecting my utterly ridiculous expression at that moment. I didn't leave the building; instead, I turned toward the elevator and pressed the button for the basement parking garage.

I hid behind a concrete pillar near the VIP parking area. The basement exhaust fans let out a low rumble.

Half an hour later, the private elevator chimed softly. The doors slid open.

Asher walked out. But he wasn't alone.

Vivian walked right beside him. The wind was strong in the underground garage, and draped over her Chanel jacket was a broad, oversized coat.

I recognized that coat. It carried a faint scent of cedarwood; just last night, I had curled up into a tight ball inside that very coat as he carried me, coat and all, into the bedroom.

Asher pulled the passenger door open for her. Right before Vivian ducked her head to get in, he reached out to shield the car roof with his hand, naturally leaning in to press his lips against her forehead.

The exact same angle. The exact same tenderness.

Even the tilt of his head matched perfectly with the kiss I had received in the kitchen this morning.

A wave of nausea hit me. It turned out he wasn't naturally aloof, mistaking routine for tenderness. He just had a set of rehearsed moves that he could casually replicate on two completely different women.

That night, I didn't return to the dorms. I sat in the 24-hour library all night long. My phone lit up three times. They were all messages from Asher.

...

Ten o'clock the next morning. Asher's private office on the fifth floor of the business school.

He shut the heavy door behind me. He hit the lock, then walked over to the blinds and twisted the slats completely shut.

Hanging on the wall were three beautifully framed certificates of appointment: the youngest tenure-track associate professor in the Ivy League business school, standing committee member of the Finance Department's Graduate Admissions Board, and academic advisor to the Endowment Fund Council.

I remembered when I applied for his research assistant position in my sophomore year, ranking first in the entire department. The very first thing he said to me was: "You have talent, but talent requires a channel. And I can provide that channel for you."

He turned to look at me. "Vivian is my fiancée."

"It's an arranged family marriage. The two families finalized the wedding date last year. We've known each other since we were kids." He leaned against the edge of his desk, casually adjusting the silver Patek Philippe on his wrist.

I stared at his Adam's apple. "Fiancée?"

"Elara, these past eighteen months were a mistake." He looked into my eyes, revealing a hint of resignation. "I didn't manage the boundaries well. But this was never a commitment. Now that Vivian is here, everything stops here."

"A mistake?" I fought to suppress my rising anger, taking a step forward to meet his gaze head-on. "Last night in bed when you said, 'I can't sleep without you,' was that losing control? Kissing me next to my coffee mug this morning, was that a mistake too?"

Asher's jaw tightened.

"I did need you at the time." He paused. "But that doesn't mean I could choose you."

So, it was nothing but a "need."

Just like he needed a cup of chamomile tea late at night, he needed a cheap substitute with no background, who wouldn't cause trouble, and who was always at his beck and call.

"There is one more thing."

Ignoring the pale look on my face, he walked behind the desk and picked up a file. "The recommendation slot for the research assistant position at the top Wall Street investment bank next month—you can no longer compete for it."

My mind instantly went completely blank.

That was the only stepping stone I had earned by grinding for three whole months, combing through hundreds of financial reports, and running on just four hours of sleep a night. It was the only narrow bridge for an ordinary student with no background like me to cross the class divide.

"...Why?" I bit my lip until it bled.

"Vivian plans to go into Wall Street later, and this resume builder is very useful to her. I need to give the nomination to her." He dropped the recommendation form that should have been mine right into the paper shredder. "Besides, if you were in the same project group, your paths would inevitably cross. To prevent Vivian from getting any unnecessary ideas, we must maintain absolute social distance."

I stared him dead in the eye. I tried to find a trace of guilt deep in his gaze, even just a single second of internal struggle. But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He personally severed my lifeline, stripping away all my blood, sweat, and tears, just to roll out a perfectly smooth red carpet for his wealthy heiress fiancée.

He needed me to make way for the true princess.

"If Vivian hadn't transferred in yesterday, how much longer were you planning to hide this from me?" My voice was cold and hoarse. "Were you going to keep treating me like some shameful dog hidden away in that apartment?"

"Watch your language, Elara." Asher frowned. "I never promised you any kind of future. You received the highest monthly financial stipend. I helped you out, and now it's time for you to know your place."

I suddenly felt unbelievably disgusted.

I looked at the man I had loved deeply for almost two years. "I get it." I didn't say another word. Uttering a single syllable more would just be degrading myself.

I turned and grabbed the doorknob. Asher's low voice drifted from behind me.

"Those things you left in my apartment..."

"Throw them away like trash. Just like what you're doing right now."

I twisted the lock and strode out.

I returned to my single dorm room alone, my entire body feeling ice-cold. When I pushed open the narrow door, I still hadn't shed a tear.

It wasn't until I stepped into the bathroom and looked at the shelf in front of the mirror, where only a solitary mouthwash cup sat.

That was when it suddenly hit me. When I woke up this morning, out of sheer habit, I had left my favorite pink electric toothbrush sitting perfectly on the massive double vanity in his apartment.

From the looks of it, I wouldn't ever get the chance to go back for it.