Olivia, elegantly made up, leaned intimately against Michael.
Her eyes swept across the shelves until they landed on the mahogany box.
She giggled, whispering something to Michael.
Michael, smiling indulgently, opened the box without hesitation.
The jade ring gleamed under the light, and Olivia’s eyes lit up instantly.
She lifted it, admiring it against the light.
The next moment, Michael gently took it and slipped it onto her left thumb.
It fit perfectly.
Olivia wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck and kissed him.
He smiled, responding, and then the two of them entangled themselves on my desk—beside my grandfather’s heirloom.
I felt as if I’d been plunged into an ice cellar, frozen stiff.
The recording kept playing, but my eyes had already blurred.
No wonder Michael had been cold and frequently “on business trips” in recent years.
I never expected he had been betraying me all along—with his secretary.
And worse—he had given away the most precious token of our families, just to please his mistress.
Rage and disgust overwhelmed my reason.
I stormed straight into Michael’s executive office.
The moment I opened the door, I saw him lounging in his chair.
And there, plastered to his side, was Olivia, giggling sweetly.
She stiffened for a second, then reluctantly sat up.
“Sophia, why don’t you ever knock?”
Ignoring her, I grabbed her hand.
The glaring green shimmer of the ring burned into my eyes.
“Is this yours? You think you can just wear it?”
“Hey, what are you doing? That hurts!” Olivia yanked her hand back, pouting pitifully.
“Sophia Lane, are you crazy?”
Michael immediately shielded her behind him, as if I were some kind of monster.
“Don’t you know that’s mine? How dare you give it to her?”
My voice trembled with fury.
Michael hesitated for a moment, then his expression turned impatient.
“Olivia liked it. I thought it looked nice, so I let her try it on.”
“That’s all it is. And you storm into my office over a worthless ring? Where are your manners?”
I almost laughed out loud.
Manners?
A cheating man lecturing me about manners?
On my birthday, when he claimed to be too busy on a trip, I begged him to spend some time with me.
He told me I was too dependent, asked why I couldn’t buy things myself.
He said he hated “rituals” and told me not to try to change him.
Back then, I comforted myself, thinking it was just his personality.
But now?
He didn’t hate rituals—he just hated giving them to me.