The Accountant's Million-Dollar Revenge

I had been with him since I was eighteen. From a shampoo girl at a hair salon to the head accountant at his company, from a cramped studio apartment to the luxury villa he bought. Yet, he never once brought up marriage. I foolishly believed the time just hadn't come. Until the new receptionist arrived. They had known each other for barely three months, and on her birthday tonight, he proposed. His close friend couldn't bear to watch me stay in the dark and secretly sent me the location. It turns out ten years really couldn't beat three months. Staring at the pin drop on my screen, my hands trembled so violently I could hardly hold my phone. When I arrived at the restaurant, the private VIP room was bustling with laughter. I pushed the door open, and the very first thing I saw was him holding that young girl in his arms. I picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and walked right up to him. "Congratulations." "Thanks," he said instinctively. But the moment his eyes focused on my face, he froze dead in his tracks. "What... what are you doing here?" I didn't look him in the eyes. Instead, I gently swirled the golden liquid in my flute. "A proposal is a huge deal. Why didn't you let me know?" Brandon's face drained of color. He reached out, trying to grab my wrist. "Chloe, go home first. I'll explain everything later." I pulled my arm back, my voice disturbingly calm. "There’s nothing to explain. I was just asking." The receptionist stood up from her seat, biting her trembling lip as she looked at me. "Chloe, I'm so sorry... I was the one who told Brandon to keep it a secret." Her voice was soft, fragile, laced with tears. "I was scared you’d target me at the office. I was scared people would talk behind my back." A cold smile touched my lips. "Don't worry. I'm not that petty." I locked eyes with her, letting every word drop with deliberate weight. "Though, honestly, when someone chooses to be a homewrecker, being talked about is just an occupational hazard, don't you think?" Her face went stark white, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. Brandon immediately pulled her behind him, shielding her as he glared at me, his brows knitted tight. "Chloe, that's enough! Whatever you have to say, we talk at home." He guarded her like she was some fragile, irreplaceable piece of porcelain. Staring at that familiar face, I suddenly felt like I was looking at a total stranger. Ten years. It took me an entire decade to see who he truly was. "Fine. Keep celebrating." I set the flute down on the table, turned around, and walked away. Behind me, soft sobs echoed, followed by Brandon’s tender whispers as he comforted her. I didn't turn back. Not once. Stepping out of the hotel lobby, the cool June breeze swept over me. I stood by the curb and hailed an Uber home. Streetlights blurred past the car window in streaks of neon, but my mind was stuck on a loop of yesterday. Just yesterday, I had stood before my mirror in a brand-new dress, wondering if I should finally bring up marriage over the weekend. We had been together for ten whole years. I thought it was time to settle down. Looking back now, it was utterly pathetic. I was eighteen when I gave my life to him. That year, my younger sister was diagnosed with severe kidney disease. My family went bankrupt trying to cover the medical bills, and I had to drop out of college to work as a shampoo assistant in a salon. Brandon had walked in for a haircut. Seeing my raw, peeling hands, he said, "Kid, come work at my firm. I'll teach you." He taught me bookkeeping from scratch, walked me through balance sheets, and showed me how to navigate the business world. From a run-down studio to a multi-million-dollar villa, from an uneducated salon girl to a corporate accountant—it took me ten years. Everyone used to tell me I was living a real-life Cinderella fairytale, and I almost believed them. Except in the fairytale, the prince proposes to Cinderella. My prince got down on one knee for someone else. I took a deep, shaky breath and rolled the window down. The rushing wind stung my eyes, but I didn't shed a single tear. From this night on, Chloe and Brandon were done. Permanently. It was past eleven when I got back. I didn't turn on the chandelier, only leaving the warm hallway lamp on as I sat alone on the sofa. I had lived in this luxury house for five years. I had decorated every single corner with my own hands. I picked out the couch, measured every window for the custom drapes, and bought every plate in the kitchen piece by piece. Yet, only Brandon’s name was on the deed. An overwhelming wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I leaned back and shut my eyes. My mind was a chaotic mess, flooded with memories of the past decade.Whenever Brandon drank too much at business dinners, I was the one staying up to nurse him with hangover soup. Whenever his birthday approached, I spent an entire month planning his gift. When he said he was too busy with his startup and didn't want to get married yet, I told him, "Okay, I'll wait for you." I waited, and waited, and waited. And this was where my waiting led. At two in the morning, the front door lock clicked. Brandon was back. I opened my eyes and watched him switch into his slippers in the hallway. Under the faint amber light, the fresh, angry red mark on his collarbone was impossible to miss. A hickey. In the past, he never allowed anyone to leave visible marks on him, always saying it looked unprofessional. I guess tonight, he was just too blissfully happy to care. Seeing me sitting on the couch, his steps hesitated. He didn't walk over to hold me like he usually did, nor did he explain why he was home so late. Instead, he walked over to the single armchair farthest from me, sat down, and remained silent for a long time. "Chloe." He finally spoke, his voice dry and raspy. "We've been together for too long." I stared at him without a word. "We know each other too well. We're like family now, and that's just not what marriage is supposed to be." He kept his head down, carefully choosing his words. "Mia is different. Being with her makes me want to get married. She makes me want to settle down." Mia. The little receptionist. I repeated the name silently in my head. "I know this is on me. I will compensate you." He finally looked up at me. "I'll transfer the title of this house to your name, plus a million dollars in cash. It's more than enough for you to live comfortably." He paused for a beat. "As for the firm... submit your resignation tomorrow. If Mia sees you at the office, it will make things awkward for her." After hearing him out, I simply nodded. "Deal." He blinked, clearly taken aback by how easily I surrendered. "You... agree?" "I agree." I stood up, staring right into his eyes. "Move your things out right now." He frowned. "Tonight?" "Yes. Right now." My voice was devoid of emotion. "Since the house is legally mine now, you have no business sleeping here. Pack up and leave." He stared at me for several seconds before giving a stiff nod. "Fine. I'll go upstairs and grab my bags." He headed upstairs, while I stood rooted to the floor. Moments later, the sound of drawers slamming and hangers rattling drifted down from the master bedroom. I walked out onto the balcony, gazing out into the quiet night. My chest felt hollow. It wasn't pure sorrow; it was an emptiness that came after being completely drained. When the breeze blew past, I felt weightless. About half an hour later, Brandon came down carrying two large suitcases. He reached the foyer, turned back to look at me, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something. I didn't even look his way. The front door opened and clicked shut. The roar of his sports car faded into the distance. Standing in the vast, empty living room, I suddenly let out a soft laugh. Ten years, packed into two suitcases and driven away. How remarkably clean.The next morning, I went to the office as usual. Some loose ends still needed tying up. The moment I stepped through the glass doors, I saw Mia behind the front desk. She was wearing a pristine white sundress today, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, looking utterly innocent and youthful. Catching sight of me, she deliberately raised her left hand. The diamond ring on her ring finger flashed blindingly under the fluorescent lights. I kept walking without batting an eye, but she hurried out from behind the desk, blocking my path. "Chloe, good morning!" She smiled brightly, waving her hand right in front of my face. "Isn't it gorgeous? Brandon picked it out himself. A full carat." She tilted her head, her tone sickeningly sweet. "You were with Brandon for ten years... did he ever buy you a diamond ring like this?" I glanced down at the rock on her finger. "I have dozens of rings that size sitting in my jewelry box." I smiled calmly. "Every single one of them is bigger than yours. I usually just pair them with casual outfits. I never thought a tiny rock was something worth bragging about." Her smile instantly froze. I brushed past her and walked straight toward my desk in the finance department. I opened my cabinets and began clearing out my personal items. Truthfully, there wasn't much to take. I began packing my few belongings into a cardboard box. As I was packing, Mia hovered over again, peering down into the box. "Are you sure those aren't company property? You can't just take whatever you want, you know." She pointed at a thick leather binder. I flipped it open for her to see. "These are my personal working notes. Private property." She scoffed, rolling her eyes. I ignored her and pulled out several branded executive pens, desk organizers, and custom planners Brandon had gifted me over the years, setting them on the desk. "Actually, you're right. These things really aren't worth taking." I looked straight at her. "I was going to toss them in the dumpster outside so building maintenance wouldn't have to deal with them." Her expression twisted. "Excuse me?" "I said, they're useless trash. I was just going to throw them away." I pushed the pile toward her chest. "Since you care so much about Brandon's leftovers, you can throw them out for me." She gritted her teeth, about to snap, when footsteps sounded at the door. Brandon walked in. Seeing the cardboard box in my hands and Mia's furious face, his brow furrowed. "Mia, give us a minute. Go back to your desk." Mia parted her lips, clearly unhappy, but seeing Brandon’s stern expression, she turned and stormed out. Not before shooting me a venomous glare. Brandon walked over and reached for the box. "Let me help you carry it." I didn't fight him, leaning against the desk as I watched him pack. He pulled open my bottom drawer, revealing a neat stack of client files. As he moved them, his hands suddenly froze. Tucked between the folders was a framed photo taken during our very first year together. In the picture, I was nineteen, sporting a ponytail, laughing into the camera with wild, carefree abandon. He stared at that photograph for a very long time. "Chloe." His voice was barely above a whisper. "When I loved you... I truly did." I listened quietly. "I honestly thought we were going to get married." He placed the photo gently into the box. "But after meeting Mia, I realized..." He stopped, unable to finish the sentence. "You realized what?" I finished it for him, completely detached. "You realized that the woman you wanted by your side wasn't me anymore. It was her." He stayed silent, which was an admission in itself. I picked up the box. "Brandon, you don't need to explain anything." I looked at him, feeling an unprecedented wave of peace wash over my heart. "Because the truth is, I don't love you anymore either."