The Quiet Exit

Chelsea and I had been friends for two years before dating for another two.

We had been married for three years. To pay off her debt, we never held a wedding. Through it all, I never once complained.

Could she really throw away a seven-year relationship just for someone who had been back in the country for a few months?

I still held on to one last shred of hope.

Yet, Chelsea stayed silent for a long time. Then, she pulled a document out of her bag and handed it to me.

"I already wrote your resignation letter for you. Sign it and go home. When the year-end bonus comes in, I'll take you to Cratesisle."

Even after everything, Chelsea really wanted me to step aside for Donald.

"Do you really think this is what I've been killing myself for all these years at this company?" I clenched my fists, my voice rising despite myself.

Right then, Donald shoved my shoulder and shot me a challenging look.

"That's enough! For Chelsea's sake, get your people here and apologize to me. Then we'll let this slide. Otherwise, forget about bonuses for your entire team. And another thing. Your team's been way too dependent on your personal clients. That's unhealthy. We can't let you control all the resources. Organize all your client information ASAP. Before you leave, hand it over to my assistant. I'll decide who takes over."

He was stripping me of everything, even my last foundation.

"I don't agree!" I growled.

"I'm the owner of this company. Do what he says. Finish the handover by this afternoon at the latest," Chelsea shot back unhappily.

She paused, her gaze flickering away.

"Donald's doing this for the company's good. Stop forming cliques. Quit thinking only about your own gains and losses."

Those words slowly made my heart go cold.

And they instantly ignited the anger of the entire sales department.

"Is this a joke?! Clients are a salesperson's lifeblood! Forcing Will to hand over everything he's built to Donald is basically cutting us off at the knees," Tommy snarled.

He had just sat down, but he shot back to his feet, his eyes red now.

"We followed him because he taught us how to make money, not like some clueless parachute hire who doesn't know a damn thing!" he roared.

"Watch your mouth when you talk about Donald!" Roger snapped.

Barely containing his frustration, he finally seized the chance to strike back. He stood up, pointed at Tommy, and began to shout.

"You ungrateful idiot! That wine-and-gifts approach is ancient history. This is the age of data, analytics, and precision marketing. That's Donald's game. I've known for a while that Will's approach was the real problem. That's why my numbers never went up, and I was almost fired. If you morons want to keep clinging to him, then be my guest and go down with him!"

The truth was, Roger was lazy and sloppy. He talked down to people and drove off several female clients, ruining his own reputation.

I had to keep swallowing my pride, apologizing over and over, and lowering myself to beg just to keep those clients from jumping to competitors.

And now, somehow, it became my fault that he nearly got fired.

"Who the hell do you think you are, telling Will to get lost?" Tommy snapped.

Blood rushed to his head, and he finally couldn't hold back. He swung a punch straight at Roger's face.

Roger fought back immediately. The two of them tangled together, and the scene spiraled out of control.

Documents, keyboards, and coffee cups were knocked off desks, scattering everywhere.

The guys from Team A rushed over to break it up, but Donald's people boxed them in, shoving and shouting. The entire floor erupted in chaos.

"Enough! Stop it right now!" I yelled.