After His Affair, I Became His Corporate Rival

I realized I had left something at the house I once shared with Rowen, so I asked the driver to drop me off downstairs. As soon as I stepped out of the car, ready to head straight to the elevator, someone grabbed me from behind.

Rowen clasped my wrist, pulling me into the stairwell, his eyes intense. "Whose car did you just get out of?" he demanded.

"A Lamborghini Aventador. Wrenley's right—you really are just a gold digger," he sneered.

I wrenched my hand free from his grip and slapped him hard across the face. Rowen looked stunned. "You hit me?"

I felt a sense of satisfaction. If it weren't for my years of judo practice, he might have tried hitting me back by now. Ever since the early days of his startup, when he had nothing, to his modest success now, I had been there every step of the way. Out of pride, I never spent a dime from my family.

During our toughest times, Rowen and I lived in a leaky apartment, with the only dry spot being near the door. We pushed the bed over there, cramped together on a single bed, shivering. Those days were physically tough but filled with a sense of happiness.

Anyone else could call me materialistic, but not Rowen. Anyone but him.

Under my unwavering gaze, Rowen looked uneasy, trying to placate me by lifting my hand to his cheek. "Baby, feel it, you really hurt me."

His eyes were pleading, his hand gently resting on my stomach. "Don’t be mad, you're still pregnant," he reminded me, watching my reaction.

"When are we setting the wedding date?" he asked cautiously.

I pulled my hand away. "There won't be one."