Chapter 4

On my first day of leave, I slept in until noon.

For the first time in three years of building this startup, I had nothing to do.

My phone was dead silent.

Julian hadn't sent a single text.

In the past, if I replied ten minutes late, he would call me three times.

Now that he had his new "emotional outlet," I was completely disposable.

In the afternoon, Marcus sent over his findings.

*Chloe, I got her.*

*That Celeste woman doesn't have a state license at all.*

*She used to be a relationship influencer on Twitter under the handle 'Goddess Coach.' She literally wrote threads on how to manipulate wealthy men.*

*She rebranded herself recently and opened this wellness studio.*

*Her business license is only registered for 'general consulting.' She has zero clinical credentials.*

I looked at the screenshots Marcus sent.

Celeste’s old Twitter pinned post read: *How to get a millionaire to pay for your lifestyle willingly.*

I sneered.

Julian always thought he was the smartest guy in the room.

He would analyze every line of a business contract to the letter.

Yet, he had been completely brainwashed by this cheap pop-psychology scammer.

Or maybe he wasn't brainwashed.

Maybe he just wanted an excuse.

An excuse to get rid of me without looking like the bad guy.

Celeste simply gave him exactly what he wanted.

She used fancy-sounding words to package his selfishness as "post-traumatic self-preservation."

She painted my hard work and sacrifice as "suffocating control."

I saved all the screenshots into an encrypted cloud drive.

For the next few days, I stayed completely away from company matters.

The deputy head of development messaged me every day to complain.

*Chloe, that Celeste lady is walking around the office every day.*

*She’s making us put plants on our desks and do ten minutes of group meditation.*

*We have deadlines to meet! Who has time for this spiritual nonsense?*

I replied: *Just cooperate with Julian's orders. Keep a paper trail of everything.*

By Friday night, Julian finally called.

"Chloe, there's an investor gala tomorrow night."

His voice sounded exhausted.

"Get ready. You're coming with me."

I looked out at the city skyline from my hotel window.

"I'm on leave. Shouldn't your wellness consultant go with you?"

"Stop acting like a child," Julian said, his voice sharp with irritation.

"This is about our next round of funding."

"Mr. Harrison specifically asked to see you. He wants to hear your explanation of the backend architecture."

"Celeste doesn't know tech. How is she supposed to explain that?"

Ah. So he needed his tool back.

"Fine. Send me the address."

The next evening, I showed up at the hotel ballroom wearing a sharp, tailored black pantsuit.

When Julian saw me, his brow furrowed.

"Why are you wearing that? Didn't I buy you that red evening gown?"

"You bought that for Celeste. You only left it at home because you got her size wrong," I said flatly.

Julian stiffened and didn't reply.

The dinner went smoothly.

Mr. Harrison was highly impressed with my technical presentation.

Just as we were about to shake hands on the term sheet, Julian's phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and his face turned pale.

"Pardon me, Mr. Harrison. I have an urgent matter to attend to."

He hurried to a corner to take the call.

A few minutes later, he rushed back, looking panicked.

"Chloe, Celeste's claustrophobia kicked in. She's trapped in her studio's elevator."

"I have to go right now."

My wine glass froze halfway to my mouth.

"Mr. Harrison is waiting to sign the letter of intent."

"You can sign it. You're the tech lead anyway," Julian said, grabbing his coat.

"She's in danger. Panic attacks can cause hyperventilation. She could die!"

"Does her building not have maintenance? Can she not call 911?" I stared at him.

"You don't understand! I'm the only one she trusts!" Julian raised his voice.

Mr. Harrison was watching us from a distance, his eyes curious.

But Julian didn't care.

He didn't even say goodbye to our lead investor. He just bolted out of the ballroom.

I stood there alone.

Watching him abandon three years of our shared hard work, all for another woman.

Mr. Harrison walked over.

"Chloe, where did Julian go?"

"He had an urgent personal issue to handle," I said, raising my glass.

"Mr. Harrison, about the data concurrency solution we discussed... shall we go over the details?"

That night, I handled all the investment details alone.

When I got back to the hotel, it was 2 AM.

I opened Instagram.

Celeste had posted an update an hour ago.

In the photo, a man's hand was holding hers.

On his wrist was the Patek Philippe watch I had given Julian for his birthday last year.

The caption read: *In my darkest hour, thank God for your light.*

I liked the post.

Then I shut off my phone and fell fast asleep.