Part 3He Called My Job Worthless Now I Am The CEO

When I reached my apartment door, the electronic deadbolt screamed a harsh “BEEP-BEEP.”

I paused, then entered the code again. It flashed red.

“Password incorrect. Please try again.”

The cold electronic voice was jarringly clear in the late-night hallway. I pulled out my phone and tried calling Liam three times. All went straight to voicemail.

The fourth call didn't even go through. The system showed my contact status as "abnormal."

He blocked me!

I had no choice but to use the phone location tracker he’d insisted on opening “for my protection” to find the bar he frequented.

It was almost laughable. By the time I arrived, it was eleven again.

I pushed open the heavy, soundproof door, and the pounding music rushed over me.

I saw Liam immediately.

The long-haired woman draped over his arm was familiar: Chloe, a former college acquaintance who openly pursued him.

Chloe had never hidden her hostility toward me. The first time we met, she trailed Liam, looking me up and down without politeness.

Liam laughed then. “This is Chloe, an old friend. She’s crashing here for a few days.”

Chloe batted her eyes, then walked over, grabbed my hand, and feigned enthusiasm. “You must be his mom, right? He said he was introducing me to his family, and you look so young, Auntie!”

I had dressed up and done my makeup because I knew his friends were coming. I could find no excuse for her rudeness other than deliberate cruelty.

Liam roared with laughter. “My mom? No, this is Ava, my girlfriend.”

Chloe put on a show of surprise, covering her mouth with her hand, her face a mask of feigned regret. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ava! It’s just that you dress so… so maturely. I honestly thought you were his elder! Heh.”

I was shaking with anger, but Liam was doubled over, justifying her behavior.

“Oh, you’re too cute, Chloe! Haha! You’re still young, making a mistake is normal. It’s Ava’s fault, really. I told her her features are too average, and she insists on copying those influencers. What’s that phrase… a cheap knock-off!”

At twenty-five, it was the first time I’d been called “Auntie” in public.

And my boyfriend couldn't see my humiliation or rage; he only laughed at the offender’s “innocent charm.”

“The lady of the house is here!”

Someone shouted, and the noisy booth suddenly went quiet.

Liam slowly turned his head, his arm still resting on Chloe’s shoulder.

He was clearly drunk, but his eyes held a clear, sober challenge. “Well, well, if it isn’t Ava the workaholic. What, you finally have time to grace us with your presence?”

Chloe made a show of trying to stand, but he pulled her back, pinning her to his lap. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We didn’t do anything wrong.”

His friends’ expressions varied. Some hooted and whistled, some looked down at their drinks, and a few girls openly watched my reaction.

After everything, I have to say, I was past the point of being angry at this kind of pathetic drama.

Last month, I got soaked in a downpour. I called Liam to pick me up.

He agreed, but never showed up, finally turning his phone off.

I got home, completely drenched.

The "unreachable" Liam was in the living room blow-drying Chloe’s hair.

She was wearing my sweatshirt.

Seeing my miserable entrance, he seemed to realize what he’d promised, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes. But he immediately became defensive.

“Chloe couldn’t get an Uber. She’s a young girl, and she doesn’t have any friends here. I couldn’t just leave her. As for you, why couldn’t you ride with a coworker? Why are you always so dramatic?”

Chloe stood up nervously, her voice a delicate purr. “Liam, is Ava going to be mad?”

Liam shrugged dismissively. “She’s not that petty.”

The comments went silent for a moment, then rushed back in to defend him.

[The ML is right. The FMC can’t rely on the ML for everything.]

[The ML is just trying to teach her how to solve problems independently. It’s understandable.]

Later that night, when I tried to express my frustration in the bedroom, Liam blamed me. “Can you stop being so sensitive? Sure, Chloe has a crush on me, but I don’t like her. If anything was going to happen between us, it would have already.”

“Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “Did you change the door code?”

He let out an exaggerated laugh. “Of course, I did. It’s my apartment, babe. Get it straight—why should you get to walk in whenever you feel like it?”

He then leaned in and whispered something to Chloe, who giggled and playfully pushed his shoulder.

[FMC, get mad! The ML is waiting for you to throw a drink in the Other Woman’s face!]

[The ML is trying to provoke you. Tell him you care! Give him the validation he wants!]

[The little tea girl is a total snake, but what guy can resist… HAHAHAHA.]

The comments were flashing like a strobe light, dictating the appropriate emotional response.

I was supposed to flip the table right now.

But watching Liam’s deliberately performed intimacy, I suddenly found it all tedious.

The three years of our relationship felt profoundly pointless.

“Fine. I understand.”

I nodded and turned to leave.

One of Liam’s friends followed me. “He’s had too much to drink, Ava. Don’t take it personally…”

I stopped, and I heard Liam shout from behind me. “Let her go! Don’t pretend you’re above it! You’re probably tearing up inside!”

“Chloe, you ever heard that saying? Swallow your tears, don’t swallow blood—internal injuries are hard to fix! Hahaha!”

He sounded smug, as if he had finally won this round of the emotional game.

His friend looked at me awkwardly. “He really crossed the line tonight…”

“It’s okay,” I interrupted him, my voice surprisingly calm. “I’m going.”

Work really did have the ability to strip away a person’s passions and emotions. All I wanted was a long, quiet sleep.

If I couldn't go back to that apartment, I simply wouldn't go back.

I checked into a hotel, took a long, satisfying hot shower, and ordered the expensive meal I had always denied myself: a perfectly seared steak and a glass of good Bordeaux.

A half-glass of wine cut through the mental fog, clarifying everything.

I realized: when you’re constantly losing, the only way to win is to walk away from the table.

This time, I was not going back.