After 7 Years of Going Dutch, I Returned Home as a Mafia Heiress Chapter 02
Author: Bagel
By the time I pushed open the door to our apartment, I was completely drenched by the storm.
Arthur was sitting on the living room sofa, his laptop resting on his lap.
He didn’t even look at me.
“Look at the state of you. I told you to check the weather this morning.”
I stood in the entryway. Water dripped from the ends of my hair, pooling into a dark stain on the marble floor.
When I didn’t move, Arthur closed his laptop, walked over to hand me a towel, and then offered me a cup of hot tea.
I didn’t take it.
“The evaluation system,” I said, my voice flat. “You gave me a C, and you gave Jessica the highest grade.”
“Why did you give her the highest and me the lowest?”
Arthur sat back down on the sofa, interlacing his fingers behind his head.
“To avoid suspicion. For the sake of fairness.”
I was completely bewildered.
“You’ve been promoted too fast these past few years. For a while now, there have been rumors in upper management suspecting that I was pulling strings for you behind the scenes.”
“If I hadn’t suppressed your score, the other board members would have inflated it just to curry favor with me.”
“If I gave you a high score too, your promotion this time would lack credibility. Those rumors would become undeniable facts.”
“So that lowest score had to be given by me.”
I looked at him and let out a laugh, my throat tasting bitter.
“Arthur, it’s been seven years. When have I ever used your name to get a single opportunity?”
“Which of those contracts didn’t I secure personally? For this promotion, I applied using my own performance metrics. You know this better than anyone.”
He picked up the whiskey next to him and took a sip. The glass clinked softly against the glass coffee table.
“That’s because you still don’t understand the rules. In a corporation, the moment people catch even a whiff of nepotism, your hard work becomes a joke.”
“I did it for your own good, Vivian. I don’t want these messy rumors destroying your reputation.”
“I gave Jessica an A+ because she delivered her presentation entirely off-script. She was emotionally engaged and poised. She deserved that score.”
“So you admit it. You gave her an A+ not because she’s more capable than me, but because she was ‘poised’?”
Arthur’s face instantly darkened. He stood up abruptly and strode toward me. “Vivian, can you stop blaming everyone else every time you lose?”
“When you lose, you need to accept it.”
I tilted my head back, forcing the tears down. My eyes burned as if they were on fire.
“If my abilities were truly inferior to hers, I would sincerely congratulate her. But the person who made me lose was you!”
“It was my lover of seven years! The man who watched me work my fingers to the bone for him! You were the one who erased all my blood, sweat, and tears with an absurd C!”
Arthur irritably loosened his tie. He grabbed me, his arms locking around me to stop my struggling.
“Stop making a scene,” he snapped. “Can you think about me for once?”
“My woman needs to see the big picture. Be a little more obedient, okay? Like Jessica. If she had lost today, she would only smile and congratulate you.”
At the mention of Jessica, his tone inexplicably softened. “She always looks up. She never blames others.”
I let out a laugh as tears fell, landing on his shirt.
“Arthur, I compromised myself for seven whole years.”
“What breaks my heart is that we never had a normal relationship! Going Dutch for seven years, returning every gift you gave me, refusing to ride in your car to work, laying all my performance records out for the whole company to check…”
“I forced myself to live this way just to prove that I didn’t care about your money at all!”
Arthur didn’t answer. His muscles were strung tight. A strange flash of panic crossed his deep eyes as he stared fixedly at me.
I pushed him away and slowly crouched down, bracing one hand on the freezing floor. Water from my wet hair dripped down, mixing with my tears.
“Seven years…”
“I worked so hard… why do I have nothing in the end… why did the person to break my heart have to be you…”
I hugged my knees and sobbed aloud, my shoulders trembling uncontrollably.
He immediately walked over, frowning, wanting to pull me into his arms once again.
“Alright, let’s stop fighting, okay?”
His voice lowered, laced with something that even he might have mistaken for tenderness. “I did all this for our future.”
Just then, his phone rang.
He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and then let go of me.
The second he answered, his voice instantly softened, becoming patient and gentle. A completely different person.
“Jessica?”
“Oh, that project analysis… I’ll send you a template for reference. It’s no trouble at all.”
“Mr. Whitmore… am I just really stupid…” Jessica’s soft, delicate voice drifted from the receiver.
“Don’t overthink it. Take your time. I’ll teach you.”
He casually grabbed a towel from the armrest of the sofa and gently draped it over my shoulders.
He put a finger to his lips, silencing me with a look.
“She’s still rushing to finish a proposal.”
He turned around, slid open the floor-to-ceiling glass door, and stepped out onto the balcony. With his back to me, he lowered his voice and continued explaining things to her.
I knelt there on the floor. The dry towel on my shoulder still held the warmth of his palm.
Outside the window, the rain never stopped.
