My Ex’s Wedding Became Their Funeral

That night, Ursula returned to her apartment.

The first thing she did was throw out every piece of garbage connected to Thomas.

It wasn't until hundreds of messages flooded her phone that she realized all hell had broken loose online.

Following the trail, Ursula found a series of freshly posted announcements on Fox Group's official website.

Five in total. All about her.

"Due to personal conduct issues, former Vice President of Design Ursula Abbott has been demoted to Department Head."

"Due to personal conduct issues, former Vice President of Design Ursula Abbott has been demoted to Manager."

"Due to personal conduct issues... Ursula Abbott has been demoted to Sales Associate."

"Due to... Ursula Abbott has been demoted to Janitorial Staff."

Each announcement deliberately included her previous title, ensuring everyone could watch her plummet from the clouds, one rung at a time.

It wasn't just character assassination—it was public humiliation, plain and simple.

The bizarre announcements caught the attention of countless netizens, all speculating about what could have happened.

"God, this poor woman. What kind of 'conduct issue' gets you demoted from VP all the way down to janitor? Is that even legal?"

"Right? Talk about social death. Whatever happened, couldn't they just call the cops?"

"I'm cringing so hard my toes are curling. Girl, just RUN. What kind of garbage company is this?"

Ursula was, in fact, planning to run.

She'd never liked working at Fox Group to begin with. It was Thomas's mother who'd wanted her to become his right hand, so she'd forced herself to climb the ladder.

Turns out, twisting yourself into knots for someone else really wasn't worth it.

She logged into her company account. Finding her permissions still active, she posted her own announcement—along with a detailed list of every achievement she'd accomplished during her years there.

"With a clear conscience, Ursula Abbott resigns."

Those few simple words sent the trending charts into overdrive.

"Thank god, we're saved—she's a total badass!"

"First time I've ever seen someone quit via company announcement. I need to know how this tastes."

"Also, this woman is seriously impressive. Has Fox Group lost their minds? They're letting talent like this walk?"

"Calling it now: this announcement will be deleted any second. Screenshot while you can!"

The resignation announcement was indeed taken down almost immediately. Ursula didn't care—she'd already made her point.

Fox Group and Odette, however, wouldn't stop calling. When she didn't answer, they resorted to sending sixty-second voice messages, one after another.

She didn't want to hear it. She tossed her phone aside, poured herself a cup of hand-dripped coffee, and retreated to her study.

Two hours later, a new video on traditional Chinese medicine appeared on a certain account.

Ursula diligently replied to a few private messages from mothers asking for advice, then finally emerged.

At some point, her WeChat had gone quiet. The most recent message contained just two words: "You okay?"

From her contact: Greg Weiss.

Her mind drifted back to that snowy night in Melbourne four years ago.

Snow piled waist-deep. A man drenched in blood. Legs nearly destroyed.

She had just inherited her mentor's legacy. He was a Chinese man on death's doorstep.

One willing to try. One willing to gamble.

Fortunately, they'd both won.

As she was lost in thought, the chat window suddenly transformed into an incoming call.

Ursula blinked, hesitated, then tapped accept.

"Hello?"

"It's me. Greg Weiss." The man's deep, measured voice cut through the years between them, stirring something in her chest.

"Mm. I know."

After that, the line fell into an odd silence. Beside him, Hailey grew impatient and shouted into the receiver.

"Ursula! My brother's in Northport! He wants to take you to dinner!"

Her voice grew distant, as if someone was physically pushing her away.

Ursula pictured the scene and smiled. "Sure. When?"

Greg's reply was unhurried. "Your call."