The Replaced Lover

On National Day, the company organized a dinner at a hotel downtown. I sat by the window, staring at Shirley Scott across from me, my fingertips absentmindedly tracing the rim of my glass. We've been together for four years. From when she started the business with a 100,000 startup fund to now, with the company's annual revenue surpassing 10 million, I've always been her vice president. Honestly, half of the clients we have today came because of me, and half of the company's rules and policies were written by me through countless sleepless nights. Today, Shirley Scott wore an off-white dress, with that delicate pendant necklace around her neck. She always said it was her mother's heirloom and never let me touch it. Back then, I felt sorry for her. That pendant was her cherished keepsake. Every time she touched it, I'd gently pat her back to comfort her. But I never expected that today, someone would expose the lie I've believed for four years, right in front of everyone. When the door swung open, the chatter in the banquet hall hushed slightly. A man in a camel trench coat walked in, tall and poised, a casually playful smile flickering in his eyes. I recognized him immediately—Simon Jones, the man she'd hidden in the farthest corner of her photo album. When Shirley Scott saw him, the chopsticks in her hand clattered loudly onto the bone plate. Her eyes lit up instantly, with a brightness I hadn't seen in four years. Simon Jones didn't glance at anyone around him; he strode straight over to our table, his steps as light as if he were walking on clouds. He stood beside Shirley and casually took her hand, as if none of us sitting at the table mattered. "Shirley," his voice was soft but clear enough for the people at the next table to hear, "I've missed you so much all these years." Shirley's cheeks flushed instantly; she tried to pull her hand back, but Simon held on tighter. All eyes suddenly fixed on me—some curious, some sympathetic, but most just there for the spectacle. I raised the glass of liquor in front of me and took a sip of liquor. The sharp liquid slid down my throat, but it couldn't suppress the cold that crept up from deep inside me. Simon Jones was still talking to Shirley Scott, sharing how he'd spent the past few years abroad, how much he missed life back home—especially her tomato and scrambled eggs. Shirley kept her head down, a smile playing at the corners of her lips, occasionally nodding in response, completely forgetting I was still sitting right across from her. Suddenly, Simon's gaze fell on Shirley's neck. His eyes brightened, and his voice rose several tones. "Shirley, you're still wearing the necklace I gave you!" That sentence hit my ears like a thunderclap. The wine glass in my hand wobbled, spilling a little onto my pants, but I didn't bother wiping it off. Shirley's expression changed instantly; she instinctively tried to hide the pendant inside her collar, but Simon Jones stopped her. "You told me before," Simon Jones said, looking at her with unwavering certainty and just a hint of pride, "Unless you forget everything about me, you'll never take off this necklace in your life." The whispers around me grew louder; I could hear people talking quietly. "So that necklace wasn't her mother's heirloom after all?" "Vice President Lincoln has had it rough, being deceived for so long." "No wonder Ms. Scott treats Simon Jones so differently—it turns out the first love has come back." Those words stabbed at my heart like needles. I looked up and stared at Shirley Scott. She didn't dare meet my eyes, burying her head even lower, her fingers tightly gripping the hem of her skirt. In that moment, I suddenly found the whole thing ridiculous. For four years, I gave up a stable job back home and the chance to study abroad—all for her. To land a major client, I drank myself to the point of a stomach bleed at a banquet. When I was hospitalized, she only visited once, saying she was busy with the Company. To help her raise funds for expansion, I invested the down payment my parents had saved for my apartment into the Company. Even now, I still live in the old house with my parents. I thought I was the person she trusted most, a part of her future. But in truth, I was just someone she was using temporarily until her first love came back. Simon Jones seemed to be savoring the spotlight. He took Shirley's hand and added softly. "Shirley, do you remember? You once said that if you ever started a company, you'd make me Vice President." The moment he said that, the entire banquet hall fell silent for a few seconds.