My Gorgeous Coworker Was Left Out on Our Trip—Furious, I Called the CEO… Then Came a Shocking Twist

"Monsters don't deserve to travel," they told me. A woman stood motionless in disbelief in a corner of the station. She spoke in a tremulous voice; the corporate trip which she had been looking forward to was abruptly canceled just before it was scheduled to leave. The woman in front of me appeared vulnerable and extremely hurt. Her stance conveyed a deep sense of disappointment, but her long hair obscured her face, making it impossible to read her emotions. A phony bullet train ticket was in her clasped fist; the phrases written in a satirical manner read, "Monsters aren't

allowed to board." Anger flared up inside of me. Rebecca never intended to take you along from the start. She was on the verge of losing all she had been looking forward to. I had a thought at that same moment: "Leave this to me, Emily. I'll see to it that something is done." I took my phone out and punched in a number. "Hello, there is an urgent situation. I must act right now." I started fighting to make my colleagues in justice right. Thomas is my name. One of the four biggest insurance businesses in Japan is where

I work. I started out as a temporary employee at one of its connected companies, primarily doing insurance consultations. I decided on a temp job since it gave me the freedom to experience a variety of things. However, I gained a profound understanding of the significance of the insurance system as I worked closely with clients and their issues. I will never forget the day I was contacted by a young father who was fighting cancer. His fervent request to "protect my family" resonated with me. He looked relieved when I suggested an appropriate insurance plan. I became aware of

the actual importance of this work at that point. Since then, I've been considering the need for insurance policies that genuinely address the needs of each individual, including young folks pursuing their goals, newlyweds beginning families, and senior people concerned about retirement. I threw myself into learning about their issues and coming up with plans specifically designed to address them. I gave up weekends to study for certifications and stayed up late reading insurance books with the goal of transitioning into product planning and sales. I was rewarded for my efforts; I gradually advanced through the temp agency's ranks until

being introduced to this business roughly six months ago. Now that I know I contribute to protecting people's futures, I get great satisfaction in my work. An elderly couple who have been my clients for a long time told me the other day, "Thanks to you, we can enjoy our retirement with peace of mind." It was very poignant. There is an unfathomable sense of satisfaction when my suggested ideas become real things that are available for purchase. Clients' smiles, their expressions of appreciation, and most importantly, hearing "I'm so glad I consulted you" are what keep me going. Fortunately,

my department is filled with ambitious colleagues who constantly push each other to improve. Our weekly meetings are intense, filled with heated debates as we share knowledge and experiences. Sometimes, harsh opinions fly around, but it's all for the sake of our clients. This job isn't just about numbers or contracts; it's about standing by people's lives and securing their futures. This profound mission drives me to aim even higher. Even as a temp worker, I take great pride in this job and dedicate myself to it fully. This is my purpose, my passion. But no matter where you go,

there will always be people who try to crush that ambition. "Oh, so this is what you call working hard? Listen, admitting that you're incompetent is a skill too. Oh, and you just glanced at my chest, didn't you? Yep, time to report you to HR.” "Wait, Rebecca, please." The woman strutting out of the office in a tight mini skirt and a revealing suit, heels clicking against the floor, was none other than our department head, Rebecca Lawson. She hardly did any work herself, yet she set impossible goals for the employees, and if they managed to achieve them,

she took all the credit. If they failed, she tore into them mercilessly, just like she did earlier. This place was practically her personal dictatorship. Sure, she was the wife of an executive, but her tyranny had gone far beyond reason. I once heard a story about her a while back: an employee was caught in an accident on their way to a client meeting. They weren't injured, but they couldn't make it on time. The client, of course, was more concerned about their well-being than the delay; there wasn't a single sign of anger on their part. But when

Rebecca heard about it, she had this to say: "My husband told me something once back when he was in sales. He would have crawled if that's what it took to be on time. You know what that means? It means you've not only disrespected me but also my husband, Michael, the executive director. So I guess I'll have to decide on an appropriate punishment, right?" Not long after that, the employee mysteriously disappeared from the department. Rebecca wielded her status as the executive director's wife like a weapon, doing whatever she pleased, and of course, her absurd cruelty extended

to me, a temp worker. "Temps are such a nuisance, Thomas. You know your desk would be perfect for my massage chair, right by the window. Hey, hey, remind me, when does your contract end? Oh, I guess I could have a word with HR and get it cut short." Without looking at her, I gave a meaningless nod and continued working. Only after hearing the sound of her heels clicking away in the distance did I let out a deep sigh. Then, for no real reason, I let my eyes wander across the office, even though I had only

been... Here, for six months, I had already seen a few faces come and go. Officially, they all left due to personal reasons, but everyone knew the truth: Rebecca had something to do with it. There were constant rumors about people being transferred, demoted, or outright fired. Even if we didn't know the exact reasons, it was an unspoken fact that her relentless workplace harassment played a significant role. Among the employees, there was a shared ambition, a drive to succeed, but another shared understanding was just as strong: no one could afford to defy Rebecca. I nearly sighed again,

but before I could, a delicate hand set a cup of coffee on my desk. "Um, if you'd like... here, Emily." "Oh, thank you! It's nothing." Her voice was soft, yet it carried clearly. The one who had offered the coffee was Emily, a fellow employee. Emily was the kind of person who noticed the small things and often helped out without drawing attention to herself. Her long hair was always tied back, and her bangs were asymmetrically cut, angled so that the left side was longer, covering part of her face. Because of that, few people had ever seen

her full expression. Clearly, she was kind, but perhaps due to her unique appearance, many found her intimidating and difficult to approach. Some even cruelly nicknamed her "Mare," the female version of a monster. "Thomas, sorry, but this document you're submitting—the name should be Mia, not Mia. Please be careful; the last person in charge kept making that mistake, and they’re apparently really fed up with it." "Damn, I forgot! Thanks, Emily." I thanked her, and she responded with her usual gentle smile, giving a small wave before heading back to her desk. If I had submitted that document as

it was, Rebecca would have found yet another excuse to humiliate me. As I sipped the coffee she had brought me, I made a mental note: next time, I’d be the one bringing her a cup. The next day, I found myself cursing my usual lack of exercise. The elevator was down for maintenance, and of course, it happened on a day when I had to visit multiple departments. That meant I had to keep running up and down the stairs carrying all this stuff. "This is brutal!" I was exhausted to the point where I started talking to myself.

By the evening, my legs felt like lead. "At last," I thought to myself, "just one more trip!" I focused entirely on climbing the stairs; that was my mistake. Before I realized it, I had gone one floor too high. I stopped, staring blankly at the floor number, feeling my consciousness drift. "Oh, Thomas!" Emily had entered the stairwell. She must have been using the stairs as well. She looked genuinely shocked to see me just standing there like that. "Emily, hey! I need to head back down." "Wait, Thomas, you're wobbling! That's dangerous." I hadn't noticed just how unsteady

I had become. As I turned to descend the stairs, my foot missed the step. In an instant, Emily grabbed my shirt with all her strength and yanked me back. I had no resistance left; I was completely at her mercy. As I fell, my brain finally snapped into action. In a last-second decision, I managed to slide my arm between her head and the floor to cushion her impact, but that was all I could manage. Gravity took over, and I collapsed right on top of Emily with a loud thud. Silence filled the stairwell for a moment. One

of my hands had unconsciously grabbed onto her arm while one of my legs had slipped between hers in an awkward position. When I finally opened my tightly shut eyes, my gaze was immediately drawn to Emily's blouse, slightly disheveled from the fall. Instinctively, I jerked my head up only to find something even more distracting: Emily's flushed face. Her eyes were slightly widened in surprise, her lips parted as if about to speak. My hand was still pinning down her arm. I knew I was in the wrong, but the sudden realization of just how stunningly beautiful she was

left me swallowing hard—long eyelashes, large expressive eyes, soft glossy lips. And then my gaze landed on something else: a scar. A faint but noticeable mark extended from her forehead, tracing around her left eye—a sign of an old injury. Its edges were slightly rough against her otherwise flawless skin. She usually kept that part of her face hidden behind her long bangs. She must have thought I was staring at her scar. Suddenly, she pulled her arm free and hastily covered her face with both hands. I snapped out of my daze and quickly helped her up. "Emily, I'm

so sorry! Are you okay?" "It's fine. I was the one who pulled you so hard, after all. I'm just glad you didn't fall all the way down." Still covering the left side of her face, she gave me a small but reassuring smile. Just to be safe, we went to the infirmary to grab some ice packs before slowly making our way back to the office. By the time we returned, everyone else had already left, leaving just the two of us. I’d brewed two cups of coffee and brought one over to Emily. I had planned to thank

her again, but before I could say anything, she took the cup with a small smile and spoke first. "I must have startled you. This scar—it happened when I was a kid. It's faded a bit, but the red-black marks still linger, so I try to keep it hidden. It's not exactly pleasant to look at—kind of like a horror movie monster with special effects makeup, right?" "Did you fall or something?" "Yeah, something like that. I slid across the concrete and scraped my face up pretty bad. But I don't regret..." "It," she said, with a smile, "but I

could easily imagine how much she had struggled with it over the years. Her long hair always flowed smoothly down her back, but her bangs seemed a bit drier, probably to keep them in place so they wouldn't shift and expose her scar. I found myself staring at her face again. Noticing my gaze, she shifted uncomfortably and spoke in a small voice. "I lied a little. Back in elementary school, my friends knew about my scar, so it wasn't a big deal. But when I moved in middle school, I tried to be confident. I didn't hide it at

first," but then she hesitated. I overheard someone say, 'Yes, that scar is creepy. I hate seeing it.' After that, I started growing out my bangs and keeping my distance from people. I quietly set my own coffee down on my desk and looked at her again. "You probably won't believe me, but I honestly don't think it matters at all. The reason I stared earlier when we fell is because, well, I was just thinking you're really beautiful." As soon as the words left my mouth, embarrassment hit me like a truck. I dropped my gaze to the floor,

curious about her reaction. I stole a quick glance at her; our eyes met. She was holding her cheeks, her face completely red. "Beautiful? Thomas, what are you saying? People call me a monster, you know. Are you sure you're looking at the right face?" I looked and said, "I'm telling you the truth." I met her gaze with unwavering sincerity. She grabbed her coffee and took a deep sip, as if trying to hide behind the cup. Then, in that same soft but clear voice, she murmured, "Thank you, Thomas." For some reason, I felt my heart skip a

beat. It felt like, in that moment, the distance between us had closed just a little. As she lifted her head again, she still looked embarrassed, but her left eye, usually hidden, was now fully visible. For the first time, I could see her smile with both eyes; that alone filled my chest with warmth. A few days passed, and I started noticing a shift in how people viewed Emily. She had always been exceptionally skilled at her job, but now people were finally recognizing it. She had always been perceptive, but now I realized it wasn't just about pointing

out mistakes. She was constantly thinking ahead, making sure things went smoothly before problems even arose. She had been silently holding this department together all along. For example, before an important business meeting, she would always double-check with all involved parties, ensuring that even minor discrepancies were caught and resolved beforehand. A lot of the successful deals we had taken for granted had actually been made possible because of her meticulous preparation. In a department with such high employee turnover, Emily's accumulated knowledge was invaluable. Her mind was a treasure trove of customer data stored through years of experience. Even

with complex cases that often left new employees struggling, Emily continued to provide precise advice based on past experiences. Only now were people beginning to realize the depth and breadth of her knowledge. Additionally, whereas before she had seemed to move cautiously when speaking with me, now she carried an energy that complemented her gracefulness. In other words, she had become even more captivating—so much so that my colleagues had even started asking me things like, "Hey, do you think Emily has a boyfriend?" Honestly, I had mixed feelings about it because I was beginning to realize that I too

was drawn to her. Lost in those complicated feelings, I continued working. Then, the rich aroma of coffee drifted over my desk. It was Emily with some coffee. "Thomas, if you'd like. Here. Also, you're furrowing your brows." "Oh, thanks." At some point, most people had left the office. Here, in this somewhat hidden corner by the window, it almost felt like we were alone. Not knowing what to say, I reached for the coffee, but before I could take the cup, Emily suddenly grabbed my hand. "Emily, the others in the department, they've been telling me how easy I

am to talk to lately and that they enjoy our conversations. I guess even though I said I didn't care, I must have built walls around myself because of my scar." I could feel her warmth through her grip; that warmth seemed to spread, making my own body temperature rise. I was sure my face was red. And then, just like when she had caught me from falling, she looked at me with flushed cheeks. "It's because you told me you didn't care, Thomas. I don't know why. I had friends before who said the same thing, but somehow when

you said it, it really lifted something off my heart. Now I can say it properly: I like my own face. Thank you." I was at a loss for words; I could only smile. By now, I had fully realized it: it wasn't just that I might be attracted to her; I was definitely falling for Emily. With her improved communication with the team, Emily's work was gaining more and more recognition. However, someone wasn't happy about that. Rebecca Lawson began to show her displeasure in obvious ways. I had heard rumors that when Emily first joined, Rebecca used to

mock her about her scar, but this was on another level. Rebecca would deliberately engage with employees near Emily's desk, speaking loudly enough for her to hear. "You know, the monster is really useless, isn't it? We can't have that face greeting sudden visitors; it'd be an embarrassment to the company. Honestly, as a woman, she's completely done for. If it were me, I'd hide in a cave forever. That would really complete the monster image, wouldn't it?" She clicked her heels against Emily's chair. As she spoke, sneaking glances at her, I was furious. But seeing how Emily remained

focused on her work, refusing to react, I found myself hesitating to step in. The other two were clearly uncomfortable, but no one dared to defy Rebecca. Just then, a piece of good news arrived: an email went out to all employees about the upcoming company trip. The moment it landed in everyone's inboxes, Rebecca shot me a side glance before raising her voice in an exaggeratedly cheerful tone. "Oh, I've been wanting to check out this hot spring! I mentioned it to my husband, so maybe he pulled some strings for me. Thomas, do you like hot springs? Oh,

wait, never mind, you're a temp, aren't you? That means you're not invited. Silly me!" Rebecca's usual snide remarks—I ignored her and pulled up the inn's website. It did seem like a nice place, peaceful with a beautiful setting. Apparently, the company organized a trip every year, but this time everyone seemed especially excited about it. The plan was a bullet train ride to the destination, followed by a one-night stay at the hot spring. As I listened to the chatter around me, I suddenly felt a tug on my sleeve. Before I knew it, I had been pulled back

to my desk. "Hey, Thomas, um, can I ask you something?" Emily stood before me, glancing around cautiously as if making sure no one was listening. Of course, the consultation she was referring to was about the company trip. She had never attended in previous years, feeling self-conscious about her scar. But this time was different. "The team, they all told me I should come with them. What do you think? I really want to try the hot springs, and I finally get to talk with everyone more! Oh, but I don't think I have any travel outfits!" Haha, I

couldn't help but laugh at Emily's flustered excitement. I looked at her, slightly panicked, and said, "You don't need to ask me. You already want to go, don't you? It'll be fine; you'll have a great time!" Emily placed a hand over her chest, and little by little, her expression softened into a smile. She looked like someone already excited for their very first company trip. It was adorable. "A trip! I'm going to take so many pictures! Just imagine you're there with me, Thomas! Oh, should I get you something sweet as a souvenir, or maybe something savory? Ah,

sorry, I'm just getting carried away, aren't I?" Her bright, travel-ready smile was contagious. I found myself grinning along with her. "It's fine, just have fun. As for a souvenir, I like both sweet and spicy things, so surprise me!" "I'll bring back more than you can handle. Look forward to it!" I knew she'd bring me plenty of souvenirs—probably too many—but more than that, I had a feeling she'd return with a flood of stories, stories ones that wouldn't fit into a single conversation. Even though I wasn't going with her, the thought of listening to her excitedly share

her experiences over pictures sounded nice. I had no doubt that we'd share those moments when she returned. But I never could have imagined what Rebecca would pull next. The company trip was scheduled for the weekend. I told myself she'd be fine, but in the end, I secretly decided to go to the station to see Emily off. Okay, maybe a small part of me just wanted to see what she looked like in casual clothes. However, the train I was on got delayed; by the time I arrived, I knew I had already missed the departure time. Since

they were taking the bullet train, everyone had probably gone through the gates on schedule. I figured there was no point, but since I was already there, I casually made my way toward the bullet train gates anyway. It was a busy Saturday, and the station was packed. I glanced around once before convincing myself that Emily had already left. I turned to leave, but I didn't miss the figure that appeared at the edge of my vision. Abandoning any thought of what might have happened, I ran toward the shadow. "Emily! Where is everyone else?" "Thomas, what are you

doing here?" There she was, alone. None of our co-workers were anywhere in sight. She looked down at the travel bag at her feet, her voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I'm not really human after all." I found her a short distance from the bullet train gates, standing alone in the crowd. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, gripping a ticket. Then, with a forced, hollow smile, she turned to me. Her outfit—something casual, something she had likely put effort into picking—was hidden as if she was trying to disappear into herself. She slowly started tearing the

ticket in her hands. I grabbed her hands before she could destroy it and took it from her. Why was she still here? Why was she the only one left behind? I looked at the ticket. It should have been a reserved seat ticket, as they were all entering as a group, but instead, it was a fake—a carefully crafted imitation, printed on similar paper but not a real ticket. My heart pounded with rage, but I forced myself to keep it in check. I gently led Emily to a bench in the waiting area. "I'll grab us some drinks,"

I told her. I left her there and walked off without thinking. I pulled out my phone; at the same time, my fingers crushed the fake ticket in my grip. There was nothing worth looking at anymore because printed on the ticket, stamped mockingly over where the seat number should have been, was a message in red ink: "Tempers aren't allowed to board." When I returned with drinks, Emily took hers with a quiet "thank you." You: Her voice was steady, but the faint trails of tears remained on her cheeks for a while. Neither of us spoke. I told

myself I was waiting for her to calm down, but the truth was I needed that time too, to get my own emotions under control. Meanwhile, at the company trip destination, a famous hot spring town, the employees were staying at a renowned traditional inn rented out exclusively for the company. Since the trip was only for sales, HR, and the executive assistant, the location had been selected with care. As soon as they arrived, the employees scattered. Some went straight to the hot springs, some enjoyed drinks while waiting for dinner. The loudest voices in the entire venue came

from the banquet hall. There, a drinking party was already in full swing, centered around Rebecca. “Oh God, I can't stop laughing just thinking about it! You all saw that face too, right? It was hilarious dressing up all fancy for a company trip only to be stopped at the gate! She really should have known her place; it was priceless!” With alcohol fueling her already sharp tongue, Rebecca was enjoying herself at Emily's expense. The employees around her seemed to have been dragged into the drinking session against their will; they laughed, but their eyes darted around looking for

a chance to leave. “Looks like you're having a great time, Rebecca.” “Well, of course, I—” Her face stiffened the moment she realized I was standing right behind her. The other employees who had been drinking all stopped mid-sip, their glasses hovering in the air. After talking with Emily at the station, I had taken a later bullet train to come here with her. At first, I had intended to come alone, but she insisted on coming too; she wouldn't take no for an answer. This was my confrontation with Rebecca. I had asked Emily to stand back for now.

“Rebecca Thomas, what the hell are you doing here? Wait, don't tell me you paid your own way to come and beg to join us—how pathetic! Oh no, wait, you brought the monster with you too? I guess miserable people stick together,” Rebecca sneered, taking another swig from her beer mug, then leaning forward to openly leer at Emily. It had only been a few hours since what happened at the station, and Emily's eyes were slightly watery, but she held her ground. She met Rebecca's gaze with a sharp glare, which of course only made Rebecca angrier. With a

loud slam, she banged her beer mug onto the table and glared back at Emily. “Rebecca, what did I say? Something wrong? No? Right? Maybe if you looked in the mirror, you'd finally get a clue! Just seeing you is making me sick—absolutely disgusting!” She let out a shrill, drunken laugh. Before coming here, I had asked Emily to stay silent no matter what happened, so she was holding back, but I could feel her grip tighten on my back. This was enough. Enough. I patted Emily's hand gently, signaling her to let go, then stepped forward. I glanced around

the room before leaning an elbow on the table and staring directly at Rebecca. The air shifted. The laughter stopped. The clinking of glasses stopped. Even Rebecca, sensing the sudden change in atmosphere, froze mid-laugh. “Me?” Just saying her name made her flinch. I pulled out my phone, scrolling through the files that had just been sent to me, then in a calm, measured voice, I spoke: “Me, for now. Let's set aside the issue with Emily's ticket. The real problem here is this.” I turned my phone toward her; it displayed the official list of company trip participants. “Me.

Yesterday, the day before departure, you manually removed Emily's name from the list. Care to explain why?” Gasps echoed through the room. All eyes bounced between me and Rebecca. I remained standing, staring down at her while she sat slumped against the table. “Rebecca, what? I have no idea what you're talking about, and why the hell would a temp like you have access to anything like that?” Her panic was obvious. I let a small sigh before looking at her again. “Me, I didn't expect it to be this bad. I've only been here for six months, but the

things I've seen—uh, looks like HR just sent their response. I'll forward it to you.” “Rebecca.” The murmur in the banquet hall grew louder. Employees who hadn't been paying attention before began gathering to see what was happening. Then, Rebecca's phone rang. She grabbed it with trembling hands. As she read the email, her face drained of color. A moment later, she threw her phone onto the floor, her expression twisting in panic. She wanted to say something, but she couldn't; the words simply wouldn't come out. I turned away from her and looked at Emily, then at the rest

of the employees. I smiled slightly. “Me, I suppose I should just read it out loud. HR's report states—” “Rebecca! Stop! Stop it! This is all lies, you fake! This didn't—” “Fine, fine! I'll stop harassing the temps, okay? Just let this go!” Rebecca lunged, grabbing onto my leg. Everyone stared in stunned silence. I didn't even bother looking at her. “Me, so you admit it. You knew exactly what you were doing all along. That makes this even worse. But before we continue, maybe I should properly introduce myself.” “Rebecca, what?” I turned slightly and looked back at Emily.

She had her hands clasped in front of her chest, silently watching over me. I nodded, then turned back to Rebecca and the others before speaking. “Me, my name is Thomas, and I am the only son of Mr. Wilson, our CEO. In other words, I'm the one who will eventually take over this company.” Rebecca, you're lying!” Rebecca staggered backward, collapsing against the table. Impact knocked over her beer mug, sending its contents spilling over her head. No one moved to help her. I joined AEMP because I wanted to observe the company's internal environment firsthand. If people knew

I was the future CEO, they'd never let their guard down, and I was right. Everyone here is incredibly hardworking, so I couldn't understand why the turnover rate was so high, but it didn't take long to find the answer. I looked at Rebecca, still soaked in beer, trembling. Then I read out the email that had been sent to me. "HR has reviewed the case and reached a decision: Rebecca Lawson will be terminated." The moment the word "terminated" left my lips, the entire room erupted into murmurs. It was already decided; there was no use protesting. Rebecca, however,

was shaking her head, muttering under her breath until suddenly she lunged at me. "Rebecca, this is insane! It was just a little prank—just some harmless fun! What are you trying to do, look good in front of that monster? You're just showing off! You think firing me over something so petty is going to fly? I'll tell my husband! Even if you're the future CEO, he won't ignore this!" "If this were just harassment, I would have considered demotion or transfer if that was all you had done." I looked at my phone once more, then pulled up another

document and thrust it in front of Rebecca. "This is from accounting. Before I joined the main company, I worked in one of our affiliates, and something felt off, so I had them look into it. And what do you know? Rebecca Lawson—fraudulent invoices and illegal financial transactions confirmed." "Really? Rebecca? In an insurance company? Of all places? If I dig deeper, I'm sure I'll find more, but even this alone is more than enough for termination." Rebecca remained frozen, head bowed, gripping her hair. Then she suddenly reached for her phone. There was only one person she would be

calling at a time like this, but before she could dial, a tone echoed from the entrance of the inn. Her hand froze, her eyes widened in shock as her phone slipped from her grasp onto the floor. "Rebecca, stop this already!" Standing at the doorway was her husband, Michael Lawson. With the banquet still buzzing, we moved to a private room prepared by the inn. It was just the four of us: me, Michael, Rebecca, and Emily, sitting across from each other. "Thomas, I sincerely apologize for ruining not just this company trip, but for everything up until now."

"You don't have to apologize, Michael. I chose to handle this here; after all, this isn't your responsibility." Michael bowed his head deeply. Even so, Michael lowered his head again, not just to me. When he raised his head, he turned to Emily and bowed once more. Emily, still overwhelmed by everything that had happened, sat frozen in confusion. "As for Rebecca, she kept her head down, but her sharp gaze, filled with resentment, was fixed on me. 'Did my father call you here?' I asked. 'Yes. Mr. Wilson informed me of the situation regarding the company trip and also

that the investigation into my wife's actions had reached its conclusion,' Michael said. 'He also mentioned that both of you were heading to the inn back at the station after I had left.'" Emily hesitated. "I called my father; Rebecca's harassment alone was enough evidence for action, and the finance department had just finished compiling their report. However, I hadn't expected Michael to personally show up." The air in the room was heavy. No one knew what to say; even the drinks set on the table remained untouched. Then Rebecca moved. She grabbed a half-empty beer mug from the table

and threw it at Emily. "Ah!" Emily gasped as beer splashed all over her face and upper body. The force of the impact plastered her bangs against her skin, exposing the scar she had always tried so hard to hide. "See? Look at her! Did you see that, Michael?" Rebecca pointed at her, laughing cruelly. "Disgusting, isn't it? Even when she hides it, she's still just a hideous freak. She's nothing but a repulsive, disgusting monster!" Emily raised trembling hands to cover her face, but Rebecca wasn't done. "We can't keep a monster like her in the company, right? So

can't you do something about what I did? Come on, it's not that big of a deal, right?" "Hey, Michael, dear…" Rebecca's voice grew increasingly anxious as she could see the severity in Michael's expression; his gaze had hardened. "Rebecca," his voice was low and firm, "stop this already." "But Michael, that monster—" "You are the one acting like a monster right now!" Michael's words cut through the room like a blade. His cold tone made Rebecca flinch, her mouth hanging open. Then his gaze shifted to Emily. "The moment he truly looked at her face, he couldn't seem to

look away. 'Emily, was it? That scar over your left eye—where did you get it?' 'Oh, this?' Emily hesitated. 'I fell hard on the concrete when I was a kid.' 'Could it be that your childhood nickname was Mimi?' 'Wait, yeah, my friends used to call me that, but how do you know that?' Before she could finish speaking, Michael quickly moved beside her and took both of her hands in his. Emily shot me a confused glance, but I had no idea what was going on either. Then I saw something I never thought I would see—tears welling up

in Michael's eyes. "It's you! I've been searching for you for so long! I'm only here today because of you! But to think I left you with a scar like this for life—I can never apologize enough!" "Wait, are you that man from back then?" "Yes, it's..." Me, he wiped his tears and began to explain what had happened all those years ago. It must have been about 20 years ago. I was being considered for a managerial position in the sales department. I was on my way to an important contract negotiation with a major client. If the deal

went through, my promotion was secured; if I failed, my career would be set back. All I could think about was my own success. I was walking quickly, reading through my notes, completely oblivious to my surroundings. Michael looked down as he spoke, his voice filled with regret. Emily, covering her mouth, seemed to be recalling the memory as well. I only looked up when I heard a child's voice scream, “Watch out!” The next thing I knew, I had fallen onto the pavement. Only then did I realize I had been pushed aside. A group of students on bicycles

had been riding toward me without watching where they were going. I had been so absorbed in my documents that I hadn't seen them either. They immediately apologized, but I was in shock. Then I looked around and saw a little girl sprawled on the ground nearby. I ran over to her and asked if she was okay. She just smiled and said, “A geiz, mister, you need to be more careful.” He let out a shaky breath. She had scraped her hands and knees, but the worst injury was on her face; blood was slowly seeping across her skin.

Even then, she laughed it off. He stopped speaking for a moment, his breath unsteady. Then his shoulders shook, and he pressed a hand against his forehead. “I was such a fool,” he let out a bitter chuckle. “She said she was fine and ran back to the park. I should have taken her to a hospital, but then I checked my watch. My meeting was about to start, and I chose my career over her—the child who saved my life. I was promoted soon after, but every time I walked through that street, I searched for her—the little girl

whose friends called her Mimi.” “Oh, I moved away after that,” Emily murmured. “It was my last day in town, so I wanted to play with my friends as much as I could.” “I see,” Michael whispered. “Even if you hadn't moved, I was too much of a coward to face you. I was afraid I had abandoned the very person who had saved me. When my wife mentioned that a new hire with a scared face had joined the company, my heart stopped. If her injury hadn't healed, then that meant I had truly failed her.” Emily reached out

and gently placed her hands over Michael's. Her bangs were still damp and disheveled from the beer, revealing her scar, but she smiled. “Michael, or should I say Mr. from back then? My scar stayed because I chose to keep playing instead of going to the hospital right away. There were hard times, but I met someone who told me I was beautiful, so you don't need to feel guilty anymore. I'm just really happy I was able to help you that day.” As I watched them, I thought to myself this was how it should be—a bond that had

once been broken had finally been mended. And as I learned the real story behind Emily's scar, I found myself falling for her all over again. But, of course, there was one person in the room who was not okay with any of this. “Why the hell are you pitying that monster girl?” she shouted. “You should be standing by me, not her! What are you even doing here, Michael? Let's go home, and when we get back, you're going to tell Mr. Wilson to take back my termination. That's the least you can do for your wife!” She stood

up noisily, making a show of gathering her things as she stormed to the door. Michael shouted at her, his voice calm but firm, “Rebecca, I can't protect you anymore. I want a divorce.” Rebecca whipped around, staring at him in disbelief. Then she sneered, “You're kidding, right? Have you forgotten how my family saved yours from debt before we got married? Just because the debt is repaid now doesn't mean you can throw me away. You owe me! You'll do what I say!” She was shouting, her face red with rage, but Michael remained unfazed. “Rebecca, you've been mistaken

about something. The ones with the debt were your parents, and the ones who helped them were mine.” “What did you just say?” “My parents were old friends with yours, and they couldn't abandon them in their time of need. They arranged our marriage because they thought it would help me balance my work life, and I went along with it. But in reality, you were the one who owed my family, not the other way around.” At that moment, Rebecca let go of her belongings and threw herself at Michael, clinging to him desperately. Her voice, usually sharp and

venomous, was now trembling and tearful, almost unrecognizable. “Please, Michael, think about this! I love you. You love me too, don't you? That's why you always protected me, right? What will happen to me if you leave me? Please, you can't just abandon me! I can't handle being fired and paying off debts—it's impossible! No, no way! I can't lose this life. I won't let it end like this! Please, anything but divorce!” It was a sight of Rebecca I had never seen before—her eyes were wide, tears streaming down her face as she clutched onto Michael, shaking him as

if afraid he would vanish. Emily and I could do nothing but watch. Michael remained still for a moment, allowing Rebecca to cling to him, but then, with a firm movement, he pushed her hands away. Looking at her, he turned to me and Emily and bowed deeply. "I truly, truly apologize for everything. I am fully responsible for allowing Rebecca's behavior to go unchecked for so long. I will divorce her and accept whatever punishment the company deems necessary. Emily Thomas, I am deeply sorry, and thank you." Without sparing a glance at Rebecca, who was still kneeling at

his feet, Michael walked out. Rebecca stumbled to her feet and chased after him, her cries echoing through the halls: "Michael! No! Don't leave me! Please! I don't want a divorce! I don't want to!" Desperate screams filled with an emotion I had never heard from her before reverberated throughout the building. Once we were alone, both Emily and I collapsed into our seats. "Emily, are you okay? That was a lot. How about you, Thomas?" "I could do anything. You handled everything on your own." "Well, I was ready for it, but I probably ruined the company trip for

everyone, so I'll try to arrange something as compensation." "Oh right, Thomas, you're—" I gently interrupted her words, then reached out and carefully adjusted Emily's slightly disheveled bangs. For a moment, I worried she might pull away, but instead, she blushed slightly, closed her eyes, and let me do it. "I'm your coworker, Emily, and when we get back, I'd like to take you out for dinner as an apology." "That tickled, but yes, I’d like that." I wasn't sure if she meant my fingers adjusting her hair or my way of asking her out, but either way, her bright

smile made me forget everything else. I let my hand linger a moment longer, gently brushing through her hair. The week after the company trip, HR made an official announcement: Rebecca was terminated, and Michael voluntarily stepped down from his position, requesting a demotion. The official reason cited was serious violations of company regulations, but it didn't take long for rumors to spread. People quickly learned of the fraudulent transactions, the debts, and even the divorce. Apparently, Rebecca's family owned a small factory that had been a client of our insurance company. One of our sales representatives had visited and,

to his shock, saw Rebecca—no longer the glamorous, condescending boss—dressed in worn-out work clothes, being scolded by a senior worker. When I heard about it, Emily confided in me. "So that factory belonged to Rebecca's family. I think I might have met her once when I was a kid. I remember wandering around with my friends and finding a small factory. In one corner, there was a little outdoor space—just a chair and a table. A girl was sitting there. We accidentally got too close, and she noticed us. She gave us some candy and whispered, 'I'm a princess, but

it's a secret, okay? A princess.'" Rebecca had likely spent her childhood dreaming of a world far beyond that small factory. She had chased power and status, but once she had it, she twisted it into something toxic. Instead of leading, she chose to control; instead of inspiring, she chose to crush others. I still can't forgive her, but it's sad in a way. "Yeah," Michael told me later that even after the divorce, he wasn't completely cutting Rebecca off. He had been reassigned to a different department in a completely different field. It would be a challenge, but as

long as he remained in this company, I hoped he could find a better path forward. Two months passed. A new manager, Alina, was assigned to our department, and with her arrival came an exciting new project: the development of an innovative insurance plan. Emily and I were both selected for the team. My father had recently suggested that I start transitioning into an executive role, but I chose to stay where I was. I had been working on this idea since my days handling customer consultations, and now I had the chance to bring it to life. As someone

who would eventually lead this company, I wanted to see this project through. If it succeeded, it could change the industry. The office had been bustling with activity, but today, the atmosphere was particularly charged with excitement. And if I was being honest, I was probably the most anxious one of all. She wanted to surprise everyone, so I hadn't been allowed to see her at all. After all, today was the day Emily was returning to work after her surgery. Ever since the company trip, we had spent more and more time together. One day, I suggested she meet

with a specialist— a world-renowned dermatologist my father knew. After the consultation, she learned that with modern technology, her scar could be significantly improved. The procedure had gone smoothly, and her recovery had been faster than expected. Everyone had been informed of Emily's return, so we had all agreed to welcome her together. As we stood ready, even preparing party poppers for the moment, her familiar, clear voice rang through the office. "Good morning, everyone! I'm back!" There she was, standing at the entrance, her neatly trimmed, stylish bangs swaying lightly, framing a face so striking that every head in

the office turned toward her. For a brief moment, everyone forgot about the poppers in their hands. Instead, they rushed toward her, surrounding her with cheers and applause. The entire office erupted in celebration, and soon enough, word of Emily's transformation spread throughout the company. It made me truly happy that others could finally see how incredible she was. But if I was being completely honest, it also made me uneasy, because before I could even properly express my own feelings, her charm had captivated the entire office. "I really messed up my timing, Thomas! Here, coffee, and your eyebrows

are all droopy." "Oh, thanks." It was a familiar scene, yet different at the same time. Even though I knew it was Emily, when she looked at me with... Both of her eyes—my heart started pounding harder than ever before. "Hey, everyone was planning to celebrate tonight, but I asked them to move it to tomorrow." "Oh right, I did hear something about that. Do you have plans today?" "Yeah, that's why I came to talk to you. I wanted to spend today with you instead. Actually, I just really wanted to see you." I could feel the heat rising

in my face. My desk was still in its usual slightly hidden spot by the window. Now that my identity as the CEO's son was no longer a secret, I could have moved anywhere, but I chose to keep this desk because it was the place where I had shared so many moments with Emily. And now she was standing in front of me, telling me she wanted to see me, looking at me directly with both of her beautiful eyes. "Thomas, yes. Am I still beautiful?" she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. Without thinking, I took her

hand and pulled her into my arms. "More than beautiful—so beautiful. I want to keep you all to myself. You've always been an incredible woman, ever since you were Mimi." She blushed slightly, wrapping her arms around my back as she whispered, "Well, I want to keep you all to myself too. Is that okay?" For a long moment, we simply held each other. I felt like I was being drawn into those mesmerizing eyes. Then just as I leaned in— "Thomas, are you here?" "What? Yes!" We scrambled apart, straightening our clothes as we hurried to respond. "Alena wants

you to join the meeting to review the new plan. First conference room, as soon as possible. Oh, and Emily, she'd love for you to come too if you're free." "Oh, okay." We glanced at each other, both a little disappointed at the interruption, but then we laughed. "Looks like we're about to get busy." "I don't mind, as long as it's with you." "I don't mind either." We lingered just a second longer, our hands gently clasped together. Then, smiling, we let go and headed toward our next challenge. Happiness isn't the same for everyone; neither is pain nor

sadness. But in life, I think we all need someone who understands us, or at least someone willing to try, so that we don't have to carry everything alone.