You Treated Me Like Trash, So I Took Out Your Entire Life

He once held me close and told me this was his most precious good-luck charm.

I stared straight at Otto, waiting to see what he would do.

Otto closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Then he strode to the table, grabbed the mug, and hurled it at the floor.

Crash!

Ceramic shards exploded across the room.

A jagged piece sliced across the back of my hand. Blood welled up instantly, dripping onto the pristine white carpet.

Davina clapped her hands and laughed.

Otto's gaze landed on the blood on my hand. His brow twitched twice.

He turned away, his voice cold and hard. "Hurry up. Take the trash and get out. And don't ever take another job from our household."

My stomach lurched violently. I bit down on my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

Without a word, I bent down and picked up the broken pieces from the floor. Then I grabbed the garbage bag stuffed with seven years of my life, turned, and walked out the front door.

I had barely stepped past the gate of the complex when my phone screen lit up.

A text from Otto: Meet me at the coffee shop across the street. I'm coming now.

I stood on the corner in the biting wind for ten minutes before Otto appeared, wearing a surgical mask and a baseball cap pulled low, jogging toward me.

He grabbed my wrist and tried to examine the cut on the back of my hand.

"Joan, does it still hurt? Davina was right there. I couldn't just—"

I wrenched my hand free and took a full step back, putting distance between us.

"Don't touch me. I'm too dirty for you, remember?"

Otto blinked, then irritation crept across his face. He lowered his voice, an edge of accusation in every word.

"Joan, can you stop being so dramatic? What was I supposed to do back there?"

"Davina has tens of millions of followers. My company's cash flow just collapsed. I need her reach for product promotion and the investors behind her. Being with her is just an act. You're the one I love. You've always been the one."

I stared at that familiar face of his and felt nothing but nausea.

"Just an act?" I let out a cold laugh. "Does 'just an act' mean throwing my things out like garbage? Does it mean buying her handbags worth over a hundred thousand dollars? You make me sick, Otto."

He stepped forward and gripped both my shoulders.

"You think I enjoy groveling for someone else's approval? Who do you think I'm killing myself for? It's for us. For our future! You're an organizer. You fold clothes and sort closets all day. You have no idea how cutthroat the business world is!"

"Once I land the investment from Davina's family and the company stabilizes, I'll dump her and marry you. All you have to do is hang on a little longer. Just pretend none of this happened."

So that was his logic.

He had used my money to start his company. He had spent my youth as his safety net. And now, for profit, he had climbed into another woman's bed and had the nerve to blame me for not being understanding enough.

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face as hard as I could.

The crack rang out sharp and clear down the empty street.

His head snapped to the side. A vivid red handprint bloomed across his pale skin.

"We're done."

I turned and walked away without looking back.

Otto shouted after me. "Joan! If you walk away today, don't ever expect me to come crawling back! You have no idea what you're throwing away!"

I didn't slow down. I raised my arm, flagged a cab, climbed in, and slammed the door shut.

Back in my cramped little apartment, I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled out my phone, ready to block Otto on everything.

That was when a new message popped up in my work group chat.