ManyWriters

I was driving when a tragic accident took my unborn child. Preston happened to pass by with his female colleague in the car. He noticed my blood-stained white dress, blocked his assistant's view, and coldly remarked, "Tough luck. Don't look." Then he drove away quickly.
That evening, while in our bedroom, I discovered an unfamiliar lace bra tucked away in our wardrobe—certainly not mine. I shut the closet and calmly phoned someone. "Mr. Miller, I've decided. I can relocate and start at your firm next week."

Betrayed and Bleeding, From Devoted Wife to Determined Escapee

I paused briefly, but my inquisitiveness won out.


I opened the video, which displayed security footage. The scene was recognizable; it was evidently from a surveillance device in the company's meeting room.


Only three individuals were present: Preston, Penelope, and the HR director.


Though audio wasn't captured, I immediately identified the paper Preston was holding. It was the notice of resignation I had turned in.


In the recording, the HR manager appeared distressed, his face nearly tearful as he attempted to explain something. I noticed his hands shaking.


Preston, however, paid no attention to the distressed HR manager, his icy stare fixed on my letter.


At precisely three minutes and forty seconds into the footage, Preston, who had been sitting still the whole time, casually gestured with his hand.


The HR manager, as if granted mercy, hastily exited the room with his head bowed.


5#05