The world had shrunk to the four walls of her apartment. Sharon was curled on her couch, wrapped in a blanket that failed to provide any warmth. The professional, polished woman was gone, replaced by a raw nerve of pain. Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed maps of the tears she'd cried on the flight home and all through the night.
Sasha moved through the dim room like a sympathetic ghost, clucking her tongue. "I just can't believe it. I mean, I can, but… what a snake." She placed a steaming mug of tea on the coffee table. "Drink this. Men like Kenzo Hayashi are all the same. All charm and private jets on the outside, but rotten to the core. You are so much better off without him."
Sharon nodded numbly, pulling the blanket tighter. She accepted the mug, the heat stinging her icy fingers. Sasha's words were a familiar soundtrack, but they were starting to sound hollow, like a script she was expected to follow.
He looked so broken when he begged me in front of everyone, her mind whispered, cutting through Sasha's monologue. His voice was cracking. Was that all a performance? A CEO's trick to keep his valuable secretary in line? Or is he just a weak man who runs back to his ex the second things get real? Which one is the truth?
The two conflicting images of Kenzo, the desperate, sincere man and the betrayer in Nadia's bed, warred in her mind, each one more painful than the last.
"You just need to forget him," Sasha declared, plopping down beside her. "Block his number. Delete the photos. He's not worth another second of your time."
Forget him. The words echoed, but they collided with a colder, more pressing reality. A reality she'd been ignoring while playing the part of the fake fiancée.
Her eyes drifted from Sasha's concerned face to the small desk in the corner of her room. Lying next to her closed laptop was a stack of envelopes. She didn't need to open them to know what they were. Final notices. Medical bills from her mother's long illness that had drained her savings, followed by the funeral costs that had pushed her into debt.
The massive bonus from the fake fiancée deal was supposed to be her lifeline, her chance to finally breathe. Now, it was gone. The salary from Hayashi Tech was the only thing keeping the wolves from the door. And now that was gone, too.
A cold knot of panic, sharper than the heartbreak, tightened in her stomach.
I was the one who saved his company from the hack, she thought, the realization landing with the weight of a final judgment. I was the one his family adored. I held his secrets and his heart in my hands... and I walked away. I had that power. And he took everything from me.
Sasha's phone buzzed, and she glanced at it with an annoyed sigh. "Ugh, work. Don't even think about that stuff yet. You need to rest."
But Sharon's gaze remained locked on her laptop. The two threads, her heartbreak and her desperation twisted together, forging something new and unyielding in the ashes of her old self. The tears stopped. A chilling clarity washed over her.
She wasn't just a heartbroken woman. She was a bankrupt, unemployed, heartbroken woman. And Kenzo Hayashi was the architect of it all.
Sasha looked back at her, mistaking her silence for despair. "Seriously, Sharon. Just forget him. He's not worth it."
Sharon's head slowly turned. Her eyes, now dry and glinting with a hard, unfamiliar light, met Sasha's.
"Forget him?" Sharon's voice was quiet, but it was no longer shaky. It was low, flat, and filled with a terrifying resolve. "No. I'm not going to forget him."
She threw the blanket off and stood up, walking toward the desk with a new, purposeful energy. She opened her laptop, the screen lightening her determined face in the dark room.
With neutral precision, she opened a new document. The blank page was her battlefield. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, not with emotion, but with the cold focus of a strategist.
SUBJECT: Formal Invoice and Breach of Contract
TO: Kenzo Hayashi, CEO, Hayashi Tech
FROM: Sharon Lee, Former Executive Assistant & Contracted Associate
This letter serves as a formal invoice for services rendered under our verbal agreement for the "Fiancée Proposition," which was terminated due to your actions...
She itemized everything. The days spent with his family, each hour calculated at a consultant's premium rate. The overtime during the Nakamura hack. A separate, hefty sum for "reputational risk and emotional distress." She added a final line: "Outstanding bonus for successful patent protection and family integration." The total at the bottom was staggering. It was more than a year's salary. It was a lifeline.
It was also a declaration of war.
She attached the document to an email. Her finger hovered over the send button for only a second before she clicked it with a final, decisive tap.
A firm knock echoed from the front door.
Sasha jumped up. "I'll get it. Probably just a delivery."
But Sharon knew. A cold dread, entirely different from her earlier grief, trickled down her spine. She heard the door open, and then Sasha's voice, sharp and hostile.
"She doesn't want to see you."
"Please. Five minutes. I just need to see her." Kenzo's voice was ragged, stripped bare of all its CEO polish. It was the same raw voice from the gala, and it sliced through her newfound resolve like a knife.
Sasha stood her ground, but Sharon could see his silhouette in the doorway. He looked terrible, his hair was a mess, his clothes were the same ones from Seoul, his eyes desperate.
"Sharon, please!" he called past Sasha, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry! It was a mistake! A stupid, drunken mistake that means nothing! What we had... what I feel for you... that was real. Please, just let me explain!"
Tears, hot and traitorous, filled in Sharon's eyes again. She pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob, her body trembling. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to scream at him. The cold woman from moments ago was gone, replaced once more by the heartbroken one.
From the hallway, a neighbor's door cracked open. An elderly woman peered out, frowning at the scene.
Kenzo saw the curious look, saw Sharon's trembling form behind Sasha, and the fight seemed to drain out of him. His shoulders slumped in defeat. He was causing a scene, humiliating her further.
"Okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Okay." He took a step back, his eyes locking with Sharon's for one last, agonizing moment before he turned and walked away.
The door clicked shut.
Silence.
Sharon stood there, tears streaming down her face. She looked from the closed door to her laptop screen, to the sent email. The two worlds, the heartbroken woman and the ruthless claimant, collided inside her.
With a trembling hand, she picked up her phone. She navigated to his number and typed a new message, her vision blurred by tears.
Sharon: Don't come back. My lawyer will be in touch about the payment. That's all I want from you now. Nothing more.
She sent it, then dropped the phone onto the couch as if it had burned her. The payment was all she wanted. It was the only thing left between them that wasn't a lie.