Goodbye, CEO Trashbag

Morning came. Alfred still hadn't.

The pain got worse. I finally called an ambulance.

While waiting, I scrolled through social media—and there it was. Vivian's latest post.

A whole sob story about being harassed at a bar and Alfred swooping in just in time. So brave, took a punch for her, she was so touched.

Attached? A picture of her, all teary-eyed, dabbing medicine on Alfred's face.

Caption:

[Love can overcome anything, and love is worth enduring anything.]

The comments? Filled with admiration.

[A man this handsome right in front of you, and you didn't make a move? Are you sure you're into men?]

[Exactly! If he were in front of me, I'd take care of his injuries too—just... in a different way.]

Vivian, smug as ever, replied:

[What's the rush? Sooner or later, he'll be mine.]

Then, someone casually dropped a video.

[Wow, what a coincidence! I saw you two that night!]

I pressed play.

Vivian, crying like some delicate little thing. Alfred, holding her close, shielding her, berating the so-called thugs.

His gaze was soft and tender.

And just like that, half a month ago came rushing back.

Alfred had invited a group to a club for drinks.

I got there early. No one else had arrived. He said he'd be there soon—something urgent at work.

Then George Lively walked in.

Alfred's business partner. Alfred always bragged about how George was some young, genius entrepreneur—secured two rounds of funding, company about to go public.

George's eyes swept over me as he moved closer.

"Hannah, you're beautiful. Even more than Alfred described."

I opened my mouth to speak—he clamped a hand over it.

"Alfred said you've got a great body. And that you're obedient."

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me close. His breath was warm against my ear.

"Tell me, Hannah, just how obedient are you?"

I thrashed, desperate to break free.

Annoyed, he bit down on my neck. Hard.

When I didn't scream, he pressed a freshly lit cigar to my collarbone.

The burn seared through my skin. I shoved him with everything I had and bolted.

Ran straight into Alfred and Vivian in the lobby.

Alfred barely glanced at me. Kept his arm around Vivian and walked right past.

Vivian? She smirked. Gave me a little wave.

A dazzling yellow diamond necklace hung around her neck.

I knew that necklace.

Alfred had won it at a Sotheby's auction. Said it was my Valentine's gift.

Then he changed his mind. Said I was too fat to pull it off.

He didn't come home till midnight, reeking of alcohol.

"Hannah, what's your problem now? You left before anyone even showed up. When did you turn into such a spoiled brat?"

I said nothing. Just tilted my head, showing him the bite mark on my neck, the blistered burn on my collarbone.

His face paled. He rushed over, voice suddenly soft.

"Babe, does it hurt? What happened?"

I told him. Everything.

He scoffed.

"Do you even hear yourself? If you're gonna lie, at least make it believable. Why would George be interested in you? What, did you try to seduce him?"

Then he grabbed my hair and dragged me in front of the mirror.

A mess of a woman stared back. Tear-streaked. Swollen eyes.

"Look at yourself. Who would want you? Look at all that fat on your tummy—disgusting."

Then he walked off to the bedroom.

I stayed in the closet, crying till morning.

The next day, he bought me a diamond necklace. Called it an apology.

I thought I'd buried that night deep.

But then I saw that video in Vivian's comments.

Alfred's eyes.

Not disgust. Not ridicule.

Not like how he looked at me.

No—when he looked at Vivian, his eyes were soft.