Fake gift 3

 

Chapter 3 

Ethan froze, narrowing his eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I’m just saying,” I replied, coolly, “She’s so talented-naturally she deserves the top position.” 

“I was trying to have a civil conversation, and now you’re throwing a tantrum?” 

His face darkened, irritation rising in every line. 

When I refused to compromise, he accuse me of targeting Zoey. 

Now that I gave in, he said I was being unreasonable. 

Amazing how he always managed to be the only rational one in the room. 

I said nothing. Ethan’s brows drew together. 

“It’s just a watch. I’ll buy you one right now if that’s what this is about.” 

“I’m really disappointed,” he added. “You’re a director, for heaven’s sake-holding a grudge over something this small? Zo’s 

way more forgiving. Take a page from her book…” 

He still thought this was about a watch. 

I smiled faintly. 

“No need. Save your money for the woman you really care about.” 

Ethan’sexpression twisted. He grabbed a throw pillow from the couch and flung it at me. 

“I’ve told you a hundred times-my relationship with Zoey is strictly professional! Why are you just as filthy-minded as the 

office gossips?” 

Everyone else called her Zoey, but he always used that cozy “Zo.” 

The truth was written all over his face, and he still thought he could gaslight me. 

“You know exactly what’s going on,” I said calmly. 

His composure snapped. His voice rose. 

“If that’s how you really see it, then go ahead-wipe off that watch I drew! I made it for you-you don’t deserve to wear it!” 

He grabbed my wrist and tried to roll up my sleeve. I yanked away and held my arm out. 

The cartoon sketch had been gone for days. My wrist was spotless. 

“No need to tell me. I washed that off a long time ago.” 

Ethan stared, pain flashing in his eyes. His arm lifted slightly, tense-like he might strike. The veins along his forearm 

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bulged with restraint. 

“You win,” he spat, then stormed out, slamming the door behind him. 

The woman I used to be would’ve run after him, afraid of what might happen if he drove off angry. 

But this time, I simply lay down and went to sleep. 

When I woke, my phone was buzzing like crazy. This time, it wasn’t my team getting demoted or docked pay. 

It was me. 

“Since she believes she’s unfit to lead, let’s make it official demotion effective immediately.” 

The announcement hit like a slap. 

Those who had once stood up for me had all been punished. Now, no one dared say a word. 

I didn’t hesitate. I gathered my entire team and walked straight to HR to submitted our resignations. 

The HR manager blanched and scrambled to dial Ethan. 

“Mr. Foster, we’ve got a situation-someone just submitted a resignation…” 

But Zoey’s voice was the first thing that came through the phone. 

“Ethan, if work’s calling, you should go. I don’t mind watching the movie alone.” 

“No way,” Ethan said, voice soft. “You’ve already been through enough. I told you I’d make it up to you-and I meant it.” 

Then his tone shifted-sharp, impatient. 

“You’re calling me over a resignation? Seriously? What the hell do I even pay you for?” 

“But sir, I just thought-” 

“Thought what? If they want to leave, let them. You’re in HR. Use your judgment. I don’t need to sign off on every minor staffing change. Just handle it.” 

Click. 

The line went dead. His phone powered off. 

HR stood there, helpless. Face red, fingers trembling. 

With no other choice, they processed our resignations. 

The news spread like wildfire. 

By the time it hit the rest of the office, the story had twisted into something else entirely. 

According to the grapevine, we had all been fired. 

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Zoey’s little entourage couldn’t wait to run back and tell her. 

“So what if she’s capable? Can’t eep a man-what does it matter?” 

“Being the first doesn’t mean a thing. If he doesn’t love you, you lose.” 

They didn’t even bother whispering. I could hear every word as they laughed among themselves. 

My team bristled, ready to confront them, but I raised a hand to stop them. 

Instead, I smiled. 

“You’re absolutely right. I hope all your partners find the kind of love they deserve.” 

Their smug faces cracked as I turned and walked away, my team right behind me. 

On the way out, we stopped by City Hall. 

I looked down at the divorce decree in my hand and smiled. 

“I’m in a great mood today. Dinner’s on me-pick a spot!” 

That set off a flurry of opinions-seafood or steak? The debate was instant. 

While they argued, I scrolled through my phone, waiting. 

Then the chatter suddenly died. Someone tugged my sleeve. 

“Boss,” one of them whispered, “look over there.” 

I looked up, following their gaze. 

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