Chapter 1The Ex-Files: Drunk Dialing Destiny

At the company's mid-year gala, my boss offered to set me up on a blind date.

Drunk and emotional, I tearfully admitted I hadn't moved on from my ex.

My colleagues, hungry for gossip, pressed for details.

The boss sitting at the head of the table looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"This ex of yours... his last name wouldn't happen to be Sterling, would it?"

* * *

The executives immediately sobered up, exchanging glances.

I was slumped on the table, enjoying a baby-like slumber.

I completely missed the boss's question.

The colleagues around me, energized by the gossip, shook me vigorously.

"Don't sleep, Autumn! Tell us more!"

I lifted my head with difficulty. "Tell you what?"

"Is your ex's family rich?"

"Extremely, obscenely rich." I spread my arms wide. "His kitchen... has a whole row of fridges, all filled with premium seafood people gifted him."

"How did you meet?"

"We were high school classmates."

I mumbled a response, sitting there trying to recover.

My body found the camera before my eyes did.

I immediately started managing my expression.

Only to realize it was the big boss at the head of the table, Charles Chen, sneakily filming me with his phone.

"Mr. Chen, why are you filming me?"

Charles was handsome, and scandalous rumors about him were plentiful.

Among the group executives, he was the most gossiped about.

He was known as the Second Prince.

He had a Crown Prince older brother above him.

But a year ago, the Crown Prince was transferred, and Charles took over management.

Rank-wise, I shouldn't be sitting at the same table as him.

But today was the mid-year gala.

And I was one of the top three revenue-generating streamers across all sectors last year.

Sales, interviews, group broadcasts—I hit every target.

To show appreciation, the leadership allowed top-performing employees to sit with them.

Charles pursed his lips and gestured for me to continue.

"Nothing, go on. I want to hear it too."

"Let's not talk about relationships... it's embarrassing."

I subconsciously dropped a cherry tomato into my wine glass.

Realizing belatedly that I was drinking with clients (or bosses), I fished the fruit out and ate it.

Sour.

Charles hissed.

"Embarrassing?"

He seemed to want to laugh but held it back.

"Is dating that ex of yours embarrassing?"

I shook my head. "Not that he's embarrassing. I was just a failure back then."

"That shouldn't be," he led the conversation. "If you were a failure, why would he be with you?"

I didn't say anything.

He winked at the people around him.

Several half-drunk executives immediately got up, saying they were going to mingle at other tables.

Seeing this, my colleagues also slipped away one by one.

Baffled, I decided to leave with them.

Charles quickly looked up, clearing his throat.

"Where are you going? Your performance last year was excellent. Let's talk about a raise."

I shivered and scooted back to my seat.

I filled my glass, following muscle memory to give a thank-you speech.

"Thank you for your appreciation, Mr. Chen. Cheers."

"Sit, sit. Don't drink."

He held down my glass.

"Tell me, Sterling... how did your ex's mom persuade you to break up? Did she scold you or threaten you?"

She didn't.

She was very kind.

That was when I was a senior in college.

Since confirming my relationship with Ethan Sterling in sophomore year, I would stay at his place for a few days during winter and summer breaks.

His mother showed up suddenly one afternoon.

I was sleeping on the sofa and was startled awake by a knock.

I thought Ethan was back.

Running to open the door, I found a strange woman.

She looked 30% like Ethan.

She saw me and wasn't surprised.

And she didn't seem to be looking for Ethan.

I greeted her very slowly, "Hello, Auntie."

"Autumn, hello."

She smiled. "Shall we go inside and chat?"

I guessed her intention immediately.

She said her last name was Hoffman, from the Hoffman shipping family in Hong Kong.

Her marriage to Mr. Sterling was an alliance.

Their businesses complemented each other perfectly.

They had been harmoniously married for years, and Ethan was their only son.

Perhaps Mr. Sterling had selfish motives.

But Ethan's position was secure.

Provided he didn't mess up.

Provided he didn't expose a weakness for outsiders to exploit.

"Ethan is capable, and I trust him. He doesn't really need marriage to secure himself."

Mrs. Sterling gathered her clutch, changing the subject.

"However, marriage alliances are a way to gather support."

"If he doesn't do it, someone else will."

"If others realize his wife's family is weak and use marriage to find allies to wrestle with him, that wouldn't be good."

With every sentence she spoke, my back stiffened a little more.

Pins and needles.

Let's get this over with.

I kept my head down.

"Mrs... Mrs. Sterling, what... what do you want me to do?"

She watched me picking at my hands, seemingly with a hint of pity.

"Autumn, I've known about you since high school."

"Back then, Ethan mentioned your name all the time at home."

"Later, I looked into your school. I know your parents are traditional, you came out of the mountains thanks to poverty alleviation programs, and got into a top university on grades alone."

"A very difficult path for a girl."

"You are smart and pretty."

"But to be our daughter-in-law, you don't have to be exceptionally excellent, but you can't have too big of a shortcoming."

"Originally, I didn't want to separate you two so quickly."

"But Ethan is graduating. You're staying in the country, and he's unwilling to go abroad."

"So, Autumn, consider him, and consider yourself."

She opened her clutch.

And pressed a thin check onto the coffee table.

I quickly wiped my face, daring not look up.

"Okay, okay, I understand. I won't... won't see you out, okay?"

Her soft shawl brushed past my fluffy pajamas.

The scent was faint, like sandalwood in a temple.

The sandalwood scent faded.

She closed the door as if she had never been there.

I went to the room to pack.

Only when I started packing did I realize there was so much stuff.

Clothes and socks filled a corner of the walk-in closet.

Jewelry, hair ties, and toiletries Ethan casually bought for me.

Plants I raised, pillows, dolls, ornaments I bought, unused sanitary pads.

It was impossible to fit into the one suitcase I came with.

I stuffed things in and took them out.

Jewelry with no obvious price tag stayed behind.

Toiletries had to be taken.

I definitely wouldn't bear to buy such expensive ones myself.

Take more pajamas.

That cashmere shawl was a celebrity style, very long.

When we bought it, Ethan laughed that I was small but insisted on acting cool, looking like a manta ray in it.

Take it.

His sound system was the brand I picked, supposedly excellent.

Although I realized after getting it that it was just internet hype.

But I still liked it.

Pity I really couldn't take that.

What about the plants on the balcony I raised for two years?

Change a place, spend another two years raising them?

I sat by the messy suitcase and suddenly broke down.

Footsteps outside the living room door.

Sounds of footsteps and bags being placed on the table.

"Autumn," Ethan called from outside. "Shall I cook for you?"

I didn't answer.

He muttered to himself in confusion.

Probably glimpsed the check on the coffee table, his steps faltered.

The bedroom door opened.

"Who from my family came to see you..."

Ethan's face was ugly, fingering the thin paper.

I turned to look at him, quickly wiping my face with my sleeve.

"Okay, don't cry, don't cry."

He half-squatted, pulling me into his arms.

"Who came? Tell me."

His fingertips were a bit cold, his collar chilly.

I rubbed my face against his coat, burying it in his warm sweater.

But his cashmere sweater also smelled of sandalwood.

They are a family.

Was I dragging him down, putting him in a difficult spot?

Panting, I tried to pull away, but he pulled me back.

Fingers threaded through my hair, undeniably pressing the back of my head against his chest.

"Speak. Was it a man or woman? How old?"

He lowered his head, nose against my forehead, breathing with annoyance.

I shook my head.

"I... let's talk."

"Talk about what? Autumn, what do you want to talk about? Breaking up?"

His gaze was severe.

"When we got together, didn't you promise not to give up easily?"

I wanted to say we're together, but I dared not.

He said he thought clearly when he confessed.

So he hoped I would consider the obstacles we would face in the future before answering him.

I promised him I would be with him properly.

But being young, I always thought obstacles were light.

Only when facing them did I realize one sentence was enough to negate everything.

I retreated.

Would he retreat at some moment too?

"Why don't we... break up?"

Meeting his gaze, my voice got smaller and smaller.

"I'm afraid you, afraid you will regret it later, feel that I... am a burden..."

"Enough!"

Ethan interrupted me, swallowing hard several times.

I spoke very little in high school.

At first, classmates asked me questions.

I didn't speak, just wrote down the solution steps for them.

Classmates thought I was pretentious.

The grade called me "the silent, pretentious exam expert."

Later, teachers called on me to answer questions.

After many times, they realized I had a speech impediment (stutter).

So I got immunity from answering questions.

No one made it difficult for me to speak.

They just occasionally advised me to practice speaking more.

Classes during the day, back to dorms at night, washing up time was tight.

I couldn't find time to practice, nor was I willing.

Only after getting together with Ethan did I occasionally open my mouth.

He always waited for me to finish.

Even if describing one thing took ten minutes.

He had never interrupted me like this.

I shut my mouth tight.

"Autumn," he took a deep breath, cupping my face with both hands, "Do you still like me?"

I looked at him and nodded.

"Then don't mention breaking up. Just consider it for me, practice speaking well. I'll practice with you at home."

He used a bit of force. "Hear me?"

I nodded again.

He pulled me into his arms, tightening his embrace.

"Good girl."

After that day, neither of us mentioned the two million dollar check.

He hired a live-in maid to do housework and dragged me to chat all day.

Sometimes I woke up late at night and heard him on the balcony on the phone.

The tone on the other end probably wasn't good.

He was silent for a long time, responding in low tones.

Usually the next day he would apologize to me, saying he had to attend high-level meetings and would be away for a few days.

I saw the documents on his desk.

Meeting materials, industry reports, financial statements.

Confidentiality level unknown.

I didn't dare look closely.

I only knew I was probably really dragging him down.

When he wasn't there, I practiced with my phone.

Opened a voice chat livestream.

Regardless of whether anyone was there, I forced myself to speak.

Some viewers who entered the room were startled.

University classmates bumped into me in the woods and thought my mental state wasn't good.

There was even a period where my weird livestream was screenshotted and discussed on forums for a while.

I replied to comments one by one explaining the reason.

Unexpectedly, netizens were very understanding and came specifically to chat with me.

But it was so painful.

The livestream got more popular.

Some encouraged, some mocked.

Some deliberately guided me to read bad comments.

My speech was still stuttering.

After accidentally reading vulgar words and homophones, the livestream room was banned again.

I couldn't take it anymore.

Why torture myself like this, and drag Ethan down too?

How can chronic symptoms be recovered by short-term training?

I wanted to give up.

But this time I didn't have the courage to face Ethan.

I left all miscellaneous items, only taking clothes I needed.

At a hotel, I texted him to break up.

That night he returned to the city.

Insisted on talking face to face.

I opened the door and saw a travel-worn Ethan.

Eyes bloodshot, standing stiffly.

Neither spoke.

I couldn't hold back tears.

Crying and crying.

At the end of crying, I spoke the most fluent sentence.

"Ethan, the pressure is too much, I really can't go on."

He pursed his lips tight and asked me.

"Really can't go on? Can't we try again?"

I said, "I'm so tired."

He put the gift bag on the floor, lowering his eyelids.

"If it's really that painful, then forget it."

I squatted on the floor, watching him turn his back.

"Ethan!"

He stopped, looked sideways.

I realized then that his eyes were red too.

I said, "Can we still be friends?"

Will we meet again?

He laughed lightly, "Mn. You can find me if you need anything."

But I understood.

He meant he wouldn't find me anymore.

Later, indeed, no contact.

It's been over three years.

If he knew my speech is very, very clear now...

Wonder if he would be happy for me.

Alcohol brings up old memories.

Illusory emotions rush to the head, ignoring reality.

I lay on the table, completely forgetting this was a group mid-year gala.

Sitting opposite was my boss's boss's boss.

Charles Chen frowned and patted me.

"Autumn, Autumn, wake up... Ancestor, probably alcohol poisoning? Dammit, Ethan Sterling is gonna chop me."

I was shaken awake, face tilted from my bent arm.

Exposing one eye to look at him.

"Hm? Mr. Chen?"

Charles breathed a sigh of relief.

Handed a tissue, chin lifted.

"Wipe your face, crying like that."

"Sorry, drank too much, got emotional. This wine is strong, can't handle it."

I forced a smile, realizing belatedly.

"Hey, Mr. Chen, weren't we talking about a raise?"

He waved his hand.

"Raise, 50% raise. But tomorrow, no, day after tomorrow, you have to come with me to... um, a cross-company exchange meeting."

"Is my rank high enough to attend with you?"

"Oh, just a simple meal."

"Oh. No can do, annual leave starts day after tomorrow."

"Triple overtime pay. It's a rare networking opportunity, I'm taking you because you're motivated."

Charles said with certainty.

I didn't suspect him, making an OK gesture.

He let out a breath, smiling like a smug fox.

"I'll have the driver take you back, rest well. I'll pick you up day after tomorrow."