Say No to Being Second Choice

A smile tugged at Beatrice's lips as she read Zachary's text.

Then, seeming to notice I was still there, she quickly suppressed her smile and said dismissively, "Stop talking about depressing stuff with your friends. If you have that much time, you should spend it on getting familiar with the project."

Her voice was cold, completely different from how she spoke to Zachary.

Even then, I didn't argue, nor did I mention that the project had already been handed over to Zachary.

Beatrice didn't acknowledge me as well. With a smile, she replied to Zachary's messages and went back into the bedroom.

Before long, her carefree laughter drifted from behind the door. She seemed to have completely forgotten that I had spent all these years by her side, working day and night, until I had lost contact with every friend I once had.

But it was fine that way. At least it spared me the trouble of wasting my breath on her.

I returned to the small study I had converted out of the storage room and pulled out the Alvertonian materials I hadn't finished.

Five years had passed, and the research center had long since shifted its focus. Even with Charles' help, I'd still need to be capable on my own if I wanted to return.

Fortunately, my foundation was solid. So, picking things back up wouldn't take long.

"Are you reading an Alvertonian magazine?"

I was absorbed in my reading when Beatrice appeared out of nowhere. She grabbed the magazine from my hands, flipped through a couple of pages, and tossed it back.

She scoffed. "Why are you reading this? Can you even understand it?"

"Just browsing," I replied flatly, putting the materials away. "Did you come for something?"

In the past, whenever Beatrice came to me on her own, I would have greeted her warmly. This time, perhaps not expecting my indifference, she froze for a moment.

Her expression faltered, then she said, "There is something. Zachary just wrapped up a major project. I'm planning to promote him and to motivate the rest of the team. What do you think?"

Beatrice looked at me as she spoke. She asked for my opinion, but I knew she was only informing me and not really seeking it.

I nodded anyway. "Fine by me."

"But rewards come with consequences. Otherwise, the team can't be managed," she added. "You haven't completed a project in a long while, so I want to temporarily reassign you to a lower position.

"I'll move you back once things settle. Don't worry. It won't be for long. I'm thinking of the team's best interests. As my boyfriend, you'll support me, right?"

I laughed bitterly to myself. As it turned out, she still had no idea I had already resigned.

Beatrice could tell Zachary's moods from the slightest clues, and even knew what he liked from little details. Yet, she was unaware that she had personally signed her own boyfriend's resignation letter.

Sure enough, all it took was a few words to see who cared and who didn't.

When I didn't respond, she assumed I was about to argue with her like I used to. Her expression darkened, and she said sharply, "Whether you agree or not doesn't matter. I've already sent out the paperwork. Besides, your office has been given to Zachary."

Then, she warned, "Either you accept the reassignment, or you leave. But take my advice. You'd better think twice before walking away. After all, the company's preparing to go public."

Her tone left no doubt that I wouldn't leave. In fact, this had happened far too often. In just a year, a few remarks from Zachary had demoted me again and again.

I had endured it before. Hence, Beatrice was certain I'd be even less willing to walk away now.

"I never said I didn't agree," I replied with a wry smile.

"Then it's settled."

She visibly relaxed. Since I hadn't said no, she took it as a yes.

Just as Beatrice was about to leave, she noticed something and came back. "I remember you used to keep a photo of us on your desk. Why isn't it there anymore?"

It was only then that the realization dawned on me.

It wasn't just the desk. Photos of us were everywhere—on the walls of my room and in my wallet too. I reminded myself constantly that no matter what Beatrice did, she still loved me.