The Day My Childhood Sweetheart Came to Kill Me

"Mr. Grant, something terrible has happened. Someone has taken over your office and thrown all your things into the trash."

I didn't expect Ryan to be so impatient and brazen as to try to seize my position.

I set my phone down, told the doctor to take care of my mother, and stormed back to the office with a rage I had never felt before. When I arrived, I found the top talent I'd recruited packing their belongings at their desks. They glanced up at me with hesitant hope.

"Mr. Grant, you're back."

I walked briskly across the floor and grabbed one man's box before he could lift it. "Put that down," I ordered. "You're not being fired."

Before I could finish, Ryan appeared, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Tsk. I fired them all. So what?" he said.

"Not them — you too," I replied, my voice low.

He was followed by a cluster of newcomers: men and women with smug faces, clearly his replacements. He regarded me with insolent calm and exhaled smoke in my direction.

"This is absurd," I said through clenched teeth. "How can a worthless upstart like you dismantle the empire I built? Who gave you the right?"

"Your company?" He scoffed. "You lost it the moment you became useless." He waved a hand toward Ivy’s portrait on the wall. "This is Ivy’s company. You're just a caretaker, temporarily managing her assets."

"My name is above the doors," I snapped. "I invested everything here."

Ryan laughed. "Now she’s transferring everything to my son. So it belongs to us — father and son. Do we need your permission to divide it?"

His cronies barked with laughter.

"Do you hear me, you cuckold?" one of them jeered. "Pack your things and leave. You're a disgrace."

My team bristled. "You can't bully us like this. You'll pay for this," one protested.

"Bang!" Ryan grabbed a wooden rod and struck one of my people, sending him reeling to the floor.

"You two desperate fools," Ryan taunted, "what right have you to scold us? You're protecting a dying man."

I stepped in and blocked his next swing. "Michael, call everyone back," I ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

Ivy arrived then, breathless and composed as ever. Ryan smirked. "Ivy, finally. Ethan says he wants to kick us out."

She crossed her arms and defended him without hesitation. "I can't keep relying on your money," she said. "I need a job. I have a baby to feed. I don't want people looking down on me."

She trusted him implicitly — all her doubts seemed swallowed by his promise.

"Ethan," she said plainly, "if you can't tolerate Ryan, then leave. Pack up and go."

Something in me snapped. I slapped her.

"You're wrong," I said flatly. "You and your cronies should leave, not me."

I held up the company's legal agreement — the document showing the transfer my father had signed — and thrust it toward her. "Read this carefully before you act like you're in charge," I said.