There was a time when I cared deeply for Lindsay. Back then, if she lowered her head and acted sweetly, I would’ve done anything for her, no matter how difficult.
But now, that fire—my passion, my devotion—had long since burned out.
For the first time, I felt calm, truly calm. And in that calm, I saw everything more clearly.
How had I been so blind?
All these years, was she with me because she loved me? Or simply because I was useful to her?
Lindsay’s face darkened, and her tone turned sharp. "How can you even think of me that way? What do you mean by cleaning up my mess? Don’t you have a stake in the company? Don’t you share in the profits? Isn’t it your responsibility to work for the company?"
Lindsay always shifts the narrative, raising the stakes with each argument. But I wasn’t buying it this time.
Instead of wasting more time in a pointless argument, I just wanted to get some rest.
"Wait!" Lindsay said with a sigh. "I can’t do anything with you."
She pulled a box from her bag. "This is a shirt clip for you. Don’t be angry. I didn’t come back to fight with you. Can you calm down?"
Looking at the shirt clip, I almost laughed.