In high school, Elio missed his chance to make the basketball team because of bullying by a clique. After that, he swore that in this lifetime, he would never let anyone pull strings right under his nose. Even on our wedding night, he made sure to stress to me, "Our company values fairness above all. To avoid suspicion, we absolutely can't go public about us." He added, "You're new here. You need to keep a low profile. Leave the wrap‑up work for the new project to someone else." Because of that, for five years of marriage, even though I secured countless orders worth tens of millions for the company, I remained at a junior position in the department. I thought this was proof of Elio's fairness. Until his old classmate went bankrupt and parachuted into the company the next day, becoming my direct boss. He said, "Valentina is a single mother. Life isn't easy for her. I want to help her out." He continued, "It just so happens that completing the account under you would qualify you for a promotion. Let her have it for now. No one in the company will say anything." Only then did I realize that in Elio's book, some people were exempt after all. Watching the project I'd secured by drinking until my stomach bled get its lead reassigned yet again, I fell silent for a moment, and suddenly, I no longer wanted to stay by Elio's side. So I replied to the text from our partner company. Mattia: I'm willing to work at your company, on the condition that this deal no longer involves partnering with Elio.