I dumped Ethan Thorne the year he was at his poorest. The next time we met, I was unemployed, and he was the CEO, personally sitting in on my final-round interview. When he saw my name on the applicant list, a smirk curled his lip. He decided to humiliate me in front of everyone. “Apologies,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet room. “This company has a strict policy against hiring opportunistic, morally bankrupt people. There are no pathetic men here for you to manipulate.” My hand moved before my brain could catch up. The sharp crack of my palm against his cheek echoed in the stunned silence. Ethan Thorne, the man on the cover of Forbes, slumped in his chair and passed out cold. In the emergency room, his assistant—a woman who looked unnervingly like a younger, softer version of me—was sobbing, her voice thick with accusation. “You bitch! Don’t you know Mr. Thorne can’t stand being touched by women? He has a severe psychosomatic aversion! I’m the only exception. You need some self-respect. Stop throwing yourself at every man you see! And that face… you had surgery to look like me, didn’t you?” A laugh almost escaped my lips. Instead, I leaned over Ethan’s “unconscious” form on the hospital bed. “If you play dead for one more second,” I whispered into his ear, “I’m going to tell everyone you have acute touch starvation, and that you didn’t pass out from the slap. You passed out from pleasure.” In the next instant, as if struck by lightning, Ethan shot upright. A pained, murderous smile stretched across his face. “The interview was a success,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “You start tomorrow.” 1 I never expected to see Ethan again, and certainly not like this. He was the center of gravity in the interview room, the CEO presiding over a panel of nervous executives. He watched me walk in, a cool, appraising look in his eyes that was worlds away from the boy I once knew. When our gazes met, he registered the shock on my face before dismissing me as if I were a stranger, his attention drifting to the window. The Ethan of my memory wore faded band t-shirts and worn-out sneakers, his smile shy and warm. The man before me was encased in a bespoke suit, a fortress of cool confidence and imposing success. He was a different person, sculpted from ambition and ice. When exes run into each other, the one whose life is in shambles is the one who feels the burn of embarrassment. Today, that was me. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. His suit probably cost more than my entire net worth. My outfit, from head to toe, was under forty dollars. The finality with which I had once cut him out of my life was now matched only by the crushing weight of my regret. If I’d had any idea he owned this company, I would have sooner starved than walk through these doors. There were five of us in the group interview. I was last in line. When my turn came to introduce myself, Ethan didn’t even bother to look up from the file he was pretending to read. His indifference was a physical force, a heat lamp scorching my skin. I couldn’t see his expression, but I could feel his contempt. After the last candidate finished, Ethan’s female assistant leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Thorne, if you have no further questions for this group, I’ll show them out?” It was a polite dismissal. The other four candidates wore masks of disappointment. I, on the other hand, felt a wave of relief so profound I almost sagged. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. But then Ethan spoke. “Wait.” He lifted his head, and his eyes—dark, unreadable pools of judgment—locked directly onto mine. In the space of a few seconds, I saw a storm of emotions flicker across his face: disgust, mockery, disdain. “Everyone else can proceed to the second round,” he announced, his voice flat and cold. “Everyone except… Ava Chen.” 2 The air in the room shifted. Every eye turned to me. I could feel the heat of their collective gaze, a mixture of pity and morbid curiosity. The other interviewers looked just as surprised; this was the first time their boss had ever been so merciless, so publicly dismissive of a candidate. Only Ethan’s assistant, after a quick, assessing glance at my face, allowed a small, knowing smile to touch her lips. Her eyes held a flicker of contempt. My own mortification began to curdle into a hot, simmering anger. My resume, my academic credentials—they weren’t the worst in this group. Not by a long shot. To single me out like this, in front of everyone… no one would believe it wasn’t personal. I could live with not working here, but I couldn’t swallow this insult. Ethan had clearly forgotten the kind of temper I had. It had been a while. I forced a tight, bright smile onto my face. “Excuse me, sir,” I said, my voice dangerously sweet. “You said I’m not qualified. May I ask for a reasonable explanation?” He didn’t hesitate. He picked up my resume, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it into the wastebasket beside his desk with a theatrical flick of his wrist. He let out a short, sharp laugh. “Apologies,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “This company has a strict policy against hiring opportunistic, morally bankrupt people. I can’t have that kind of filth tainting the workplace. Besides, there are no pathetic men here for you to manipulate. You can take a left out the door. I hear Marcus Thorne—you know, the real estate tycoon, freshly divorced from wife number four—is always looking for… company.” A collective gasp rippled through the room. Some of the other candidates stifled snickers, their whispers just loud enough to hear. “Damn. All that for an Ivy League degree? Gives the school a bad name. Guess you can’t judge a book by its cover. Some women will do anything for a buck.” “Serves her right for trying to sleep her way to the top. I bet her whole resume is fake.” “She’s not even that pretty. Probably all plastic. And she has the nerve to question the CEO? The audacity is almost funny. Pathetic.” … With every muttered insult, I kept my eyes locked on Ethan. And with every insult, a dark, triumphant glint in his eyes grew brighter. This was his victory lap. All the years of grinding, of building this empire—it was all for this single moment. To stand on his mountain and watch me burn. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. If I was going down, he was coming with me. Under the shocked stares of everyone in the room, I strode forward. I walked right up to his expensive desk, raised my hand, and brought it down across his face with all the force I could muster. The room erupted in a symphony of shrieks and gasps. Ethan tumbled sideways out of his ergonomic chair, hitting the plush carpet with a dull thud. He was out cold. His face, where my hand had connected, was already turning a violent shade of red. The assistant rushed to his side, cradling his head in her lap. “You bitch!” she screamed, her voice cracking with fury. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re finished! If anything happens to Mr. Thorne, I’ll make sure you rot in jail!” She then rounded on the other executives, who were frozen in place. “What are you all staring at? Call an ambulance, you useless idiots!” The berated employees, though clearly taken aback by her tone, fumbled for their phones and did as they were told. An assistant didn't technically outrank them, but she wore the mantle of the boss's chosen one like a second skin. They weren’t about to argue. This time, I didn’t say a word. I was too busy studying the assistant’s face. This woman… why did she look so much like me? 3 Because I was the one who threw the punch, I had to accompany them to the hospital. In the emergency room, I stood against the wall with a few other shell-shocked employees, feeling like a misbehaving child outside the principal's office. The only one moving was the assistant. She sat by Ethan’s bedside, clutching his hand, her tears falling onto the crisp white sheets. You would think he was on his deathbed. One of the managers tried to reason with her. “Chloe, the doctor said Mr. Thorne is fine. He just needs to rest. I’ve already called his housekeeper; someone will be here soon. Maybe we should head back to the office? There’s still a long line of candidates waiting.” Chloe wiped her eyes and shot the man a venomous glare. “Mr. Thorne is in this state, and all you can think about is work? Do you have a heart? If it weren't for his generosity, you’d all be out on the street begging for a job, just like her!” The employees, who had earned their positions through skill and hard work, looked bewildered. I, the collateral damage in her tirade, was even more confused. How did looking for a job equate to begging? No one dared to challenge her, so Chloe redirected the full force of her fury back to me. “What’s that look on your face? Am I wrong? I saw the gaps in your resume. Who knows what sordid things you were doing during that time. You did this to him! Don’t you feel any guilt at all?” I asked, genuinely curious, “Did what, exactly? Is he dying?” Because if he was, I needed to go buy some fireworks. A single slap that could kill a man—that was a skill worth marketing. I could start a masterclass in the Iron Palm technique. “Aah! Shut up!” she shrieked. “If you curse him again, I’ll make sure you never find work in this city! I’ll personally call every company and blacklist you!” I nodded slowly. “Wow. For an assistant, you have a lot of power.” My calm, dismissive tone sent her into a fresh rage. She shot to her feet, her face a mask of tragic, tear-stained sorrow. “Do you want to know why the doctors can’t find anything wrong with him? I’ll tell you. Mr. Thorne has a rare condition. A severe psychosomatic aversion. He can’t be touched by any woman! I am the only one who can get close to him. I am his only exception! So do yourself a favor and get some self-respect. Stop throwing yourself at men with these cheap, pathetic tricks!” Her eyes raked over my face, a mixture of contempt and smug satisfaction in her expression. “And I know you’re aware of how special I am to him. It’s obvious. You had your face surgically altered to look like mine. But it’s a pathetic imitation. A knock-off can never be the original. You’re not even in the same league.” I almost lunged at her. Excuse me? This face is one hundred percent natural, thank you very much. I was with her boss back when she was probably still in high school learning her multiplication tables. She thought she knew Ethan so well? Funny. I knew him better. On the way in, I’d cornered a doctor who confirmed my suspicions. Ethan’s fainting spell had nothing to do with physical trauma. It was, he’d said, likely the result of some kind of intense psychological shock. Even the doctor couldn’t pinpoint what it was. But I knew. In the entire world, I was probably the only one who did. A cold smile touched my lips. Ignoring Chloe’s frantic protests, I leaned over Ethan’s “unconscious” form. “If you play dead for one more second,” I whispered, my voice a low, menacing hum in his ear, “I’m going to tell everyone you have acute touch starvation, and that you didn’t pass out from the slap. You passed out from pleasure.” A medical miracle occurred. The man who had been utterly unresponsive, practically a corpse, suddenly shot upright on the gurney. He looked like a zombie rising from the grave, startling everyone in the room into a stunned, awkward silence. After a moment that stretched for an eternity, Ethan slowly turned his head. He fixed his gaze on me, a pained, murderous smile stretching his lips. “The interview was a success,” he said, each word a carefully ground-out threat. “You start tomorrow.” 4 And just like that, with one sentence, the overbearing CEO had hired me. A true medical marvel. Under Chloe’s gaze of pure, unadulterated disbelief, I officially became an employee of Thorne Industries. To be honest, aside from the excruciatingly awkward fact that the CEO was my ex-boyfriend, I was more than happy with the company. It was thriving, the boss was generous and hands-off, the pay was excellent, and overtime was non-existent. The hours were nine-to-five with weekends off, catered lunches were prepared by a five-star chef, and there was no clocking in. Ethan was the classic example of someone who’d been drenched in the rain and now wanted to hold an umbrella for others. He was a bastard of an ex, but a damn good boss. News of “The Slap,” as it came to be known, had somehow leaked. When I showed up for my first day, I was met with a barrage of curious stares. It made sense. The woman who sent the CEO to the hospital and still got the job? I’d be curious too. But once they saw my face, the curiosity melted into something else—a shared, knowing look of disdain. The rumors started spreading like wildfire through the company’s Slack channels. CEO Thorne is secretly in love with his assistant, Chloe. Hiring the doppelgänger is proof. No, the new girl got plastic surgery to look like Chloe on purpose. The slap was just a crazy stunt to get his attention. Within three days, I was completely ostracized. I worked alone, ate lunch alone, and was never invited to after-work drinks. I didn’t mind in the slightest. The peace and quiet was a welcome change. Thanks to Ethan’s leadership, the company culture was refreshingly professional and free of petty drama. As long as I did my job well, most people left me alone. There was just one problem. I felt a muscle twitch in my jaw. In the faint reflection on my desktop monitor, I could see him again—a dark, brooding figure lurking just outside the glass wall of my department. The first time I saw Ethan standing in the corner of my periphery, watching me, I almost jumped out of my skin. He looked like a ghost haunting the halls. After a few days, I was starting to get used to it. When the guy from the next cubicle came over to ask a question, I ignored the specter in the hallway and focused on my work. It wasn't until I was in the breakroom, agreeing to go to a team dinner that night, that Ethan finally emerged from the shadows. He stood in the doorway, his dark eyes fixed on me, saying nothing. I pretended not to know him and tried to walk past. He stepped into my path, his face a thundercloud. “Ava,” he said, his voice low and tight. “Is it so hard to greet your boss when you see him? Have you forgotten basic manners?” I feigned surprise. “Oh! Mr. Thorne. I’m so sorry, I didn’t recognize you. It’s been a while, you know? Well, I’ll let you get back to it. If there’s nothing else, I should probably—” I tried to squeeze past him, but he shot out a hand and grabbed my wrist. The contact was electric. A split second later, he recoiled as if he’d been burned, snatching his hand back. His ears turned a deep, tell-tale shade of crimson. I glanced at his trembling fingers. It had been years, but his condition, far from getting better, had clearly gotten worse. 5 His hand might have been shaking, but his tongue was as sharp as ever. “You work fast, Ava,” he sneered. “Barely here a week and you’ve already sunk your claws into someone. Don’t waste your time. I had HR pull his file. His parents are middle-class government employees. No trust fund, no family money. He doesn’t meet your… requirements. I’d find a new target if I were you.” It was hard to reconcile this man, spitting such casual, venomous words, with the boy I once knew—the one who would get so nervous around me he’d sometimes stutter. I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Oh? And who do you suggest I target next?” A muscle jumped in his jaw. He didn’t answer. I shoved past him and left the breakroom, nearly colliding with Chloe, who was on her way to find him. She shot me a dirty look before rushing past me into the room. Her anxious voice drifted out into the hall. “Mr. Thorne, are you alright? You look like you’re about to fall! Can you stand? God, what did that woman do to you this time? What? Shh? What do you mean, ‘shh’?” … My deskmate’s name was Leo. After work, I joined him and a few other colleagues for dinner. I made a point of being open and friendly, showing no signs of resentment or sadness from being the office pariah. Over the course of the meal, I could feel their opinions of me shifting. They started to see that the person from the rumors didn't match the person sitting in front of them. When they decided to head to a nearby bar afterward, they invited me along. After a few rounds of drinking games, my head started to spin. I slipped outside for some fresh air. The door opened behind me a moment later. It was Leo. He had a kind, boyish face and a gentle smile. He offered me a small bottle. “Here. I bought this on the way over. It’s one of those hangover cures. It’ll help.” I had a rule about not accepting drinks from people, so I politely declined. He wasn’t offended; in fact, his smile seemed to soften. He leaned against the brick wall next to me, sipping the drink himself. “Ava, maybe you should take it easy for the rest of the night,” he said. “Or, if you want, I could be your black knight and take some of the shots for you.” I smiled. “That’s sweet of you, Leo, thanks. But aren’t you a little young to be playing the hero?” He nearly choked on his drink, his face flushing a little. “Hey, I’m your senior colleague, technically. That means you should be calling me ‘sir,’ not pointing out my age.” I was about to tease him again when the door to the private room next to ours swung open. Ethan stepped out, and his eyes met mine. The music from inside was loud, so Leo hadn't heard the door. He was still looking at me, his expression earnest. “So, Ava… you’re really beautiful. Do you have a boyfriend?” Ethan froze. A wicked little spark ignited in my chest. I hummed thoughtfully. “I do, actually. We’ve been together for a while.” I watched the light go out of Leo’s eyes. He looked like a puppy who’d just had its tail stepped on, and for a fleeting, painful moment, he reminded me so much of a younger Ethan. Back then, Ethan had been just as transparent, his every emotion written plainly on his face. “Then the rumors about you and Mr. Thorne—” “Oh, Mr. Thorne! What a coincidence! Fancy seeing you here,” I chirped, cutting Leo off before he could finish. I acted as if I’d just noticed Ethan standing there. Leo snapped back to reality, spinning around and nearly bowing. “Mr. Thorne! Good evening, sir.” Ethan’s tense expression softened slightly. He wasn’t going to take it out on the kid. “Leo,” he acknowledged with a nod. “Just wrapped up a client dinner.” Leo, ever polite, made a casual offer. “Well, since you’re here, would you like to join us for a bit?” Any normal boss would have politely declined. But Ethan Thorne was not a normal boss. “Alright,” he said, and without another word, he pushed open the door to our room and walked inside. The booming karaoke music inside our room screeched to a halt, replaced by a chorus of stunned, sober voices. “Good evening, Mr. Thorne!” 6 Chloe must have heard the commotion from next door. She appeared in the hallway a moment later, and when she saw me, her face soured. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Are you stalking Mr. Thorne? I’m warning you, Ava. One more stunt like this and I’m calling the police.” Leo, finally recovering from his shock, jumped to my defense. “You’ve got it all wrong, Chloe. A few of us from the office are just having a team dinner here. We ran into Mr. Thorne by chance. He’s in our room right now.” Chloe’s eyes darted between Leo and me, and a derisive smirk twisted her lips. “You’re really something, Ava. Not only did you manage to trick Mr. Thorne into joining you, but you’ve got a backup plan right here.” She gestured at Leo. “I have to wonder, could you even function without a face that looks like mine? You should really send a thank you card to your plastic surgeon for the life you have now.” She then turned her dismissive gaze on Leo. “And you,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “If you have a crush on me, just ask me out directly. What’s the point of cozying up to a cheap knock-off? Are you even a man? Don’t make me lose respect for you.” Before Leo could even sputter a protest, she pulled a business card from her purse, tucked it into the pocket of his shirt, shot me one last withering look, and swept into our private room. Leo stood there, completely dumbfounded. I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. I patted his shoulder. “Go get her, tiger. Be a man.” “Ava!” he groaned, his face beet red. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Come on, we should probably see what kind of damage has been done.” We walked back into the room to find the once-lively atmosphere had become dead silent. Everyone was watching Ethan, who sat in the center of the sofa like a king holding court. The tension of having me, the “impostor,” in the same room as Chloe, the supposed “original,” was thick enough to cut with a knife. Seeing that we had finally returned, Ethan coolly averted his gaze and broke the suffocating silence. “Next song is for Ava,” he announced. “Someone who talks that much must be a decent singer.” Every head in the room swiveled in my direction. I smiled sweetly. “Oh, I think Mr. Thorne should sing. My singing voice isn’t nearly as good as my speaking voice. Unlike you, sir. I hear you’re great at both.” Their heads swiveled back to Ethan. His eyes were like chips of ice. “Are you refusing a direct order from your boss?” I blinked innocently. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Thorne. It’s after hours. There’s no boss, no employee. We’re all just friends here. Calling it an order seems so… formal.” A collective, silent gasp went through our colleagues. They were now looking at me with a newfound respect, bordering on awe. She slapped him at the interview and lived. She must have something on him. Blackmail. Definitely blackmail. They weren’t entirely wrong. I did hold Ethan’s life in my hands, in a way. He saw the unspoken threat in my eyes and finally backed down. Muttering something about needing the restroom, he escaped the room. Chloe, furious on his behalf, slammed her hand on the table and shot to her feet, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Ava! Don’t you push your luck! Mr. Thorne only tolerates you because of me! If you didn’t have my face, you wouldn’t have even made it past the front door of the company! You’re a spoiled, ungrateful bitch! A cheap copy! One day, everyone will see you for what you really are, and they’ll despise you. I don’t even understand why you exist!” Leo started to stand up, to say something, but I held up a hand to stop him. I looked at Chloe, my expression calm. “The reason I exist,” I said, my voice even, “is so that without me, you wouldn’t have a stage to perform this little monkey dance on.” “What did you just call me, you fake bitch!” I didn’t bother to reply. I turned and left the room, closing the door on her shrill voice. I was done. I didn’t want to drag my history with Ethan into the light for everyone to pick apart. This was it. I should have quit the day I was hired. I went to the restroom and splashed cold water on my face. The shock of it cleared my head. I checked the time. I’d go back, say my goodbyes, and head home. But as I walked past an empty private room, a hand shot out from the darkness and yanked me inside. The door slammed shut behind me. Before a scream could escape my throat, I was staring into the stormy, furious eyes of Ethan Thorne. His face was inches from mine, his hot breath ghosting across my skin. “You have a boyfriend, Ava?” 7 The fear that had seized me a moment ago instantly ignited into rage. The scream died in my throat, replaced by a torrent of angry words. “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to give me a heart attack, grabbing me like that?” He ignored my outburst, his own breath coming in ragged bursts. “Do you really have a boyfriend?” he repeated, his voice raw. I frowned, trying to push him away. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Thorne. We’re not close. Please have some self-respect.” “Enough!” he roared, his control finally snapping. “I’m done playing this game where we pretend we don’t know each other! Just answer my damn question!” He slammed his fist against the wall behind me, the impact rattling the cheap art hanging there. His eyes were rimmed with red. He raised his other hand as if to grip my shoulders, but it froze in mid-air, clenching into a tight fist before falling back to his side. The air was thick with the unfamiliar scent of tobacco. Ethan never used to smoke. Staring into those deep, tormented eyes felt like drowning. I shoved him, hard, and broke his gaze. “You’re the one who started this, remember?” I shot back. “You have no right to act outraged now.” My heart was hammering against my ribs. I had a very bad feeling about where this was going. I turned and fumbled for the doorknob. “It’s getting late. I should—” A searing heat enveloped me from behind. A hard chest pressed against my back, and a large, warm hand covered mine on the doorknob, stilling my movement. He pushed the door, which I’d managed to pull open a few inches, firmly shut. Ethan was a full head taller than me, his frame completely eclipsing mine. He leaned down, resting his forehead on my shoulder. His voice, when he spoke, was a broken whisper. “If I begged you, would you stay?” I bit down on my lip, forcing the cruelty into my voice. “No. It would only make you seem pathetic and cheap.” The man behind me went still. The words were a low blow, aimed directly at the pride I knew he valued most. The most familiar people always know exactly where to strike to cause the most pain. A sharp, needle-like ache pierced my own chest, but I forced out a dismissive laugh, a final, bitter punctuation mark on a love story that had died before it even had a chance to be rekindled. Just when I thought he would finally push me away, finally see me as the enemy I was pretending to be, an arm snaked around my waist. He pulled me flush against him, holding me with a desperate, possessive tightness, as if I were a treasure he’d lost and just found again. I could feel the frantic, thunderous beating of his heart against my spine. “Don’t go,” he pleaded, his voice muffled in my hair. “I’m begging you.” My ears were ringing. Before I could process what was happening, he spun me around to face him. His pale skin was flushed a furious red, like a boiled lobster, and his eyes were hazy with a strange, unfocused desire. “Can I hold you?” he asked. My knees felt weak. If he wanted to hold me, why was he staring at my lips? “Ethan, you need to calm down. You’re having an episode.” The raw, predatory energy rolling off him was terrifying. I started backing away, step by step, until my back hit the cold, unyielding wall. “Hold me.” His voice was a hoarse rasp, no longer a question but a command. Experience told me that in these moments, the only safe option was to comply. Arguing would only make it worse, sending him spiraling out of control. I slowly raised my arms and wrapped them around his waist. After a moment’s hesitation, I rested my head against his chest. In the dim light, I could see the goosebumps rise on his arms, the fine hairs standing on end. It was the physical manifestation of his touch starvation being soothed. Suddenly, a voice came from the hallway, just on the other side of the door. It was Leo. “That’s weird. I thought Ava came to the restroom.” “I don’t know,” another colleague replied. “I didn’t see her. Maybe Chloe’s comments really got to her and she left? I mean, what she said was pretty harsh. I’d be upset too.” “Why is Chloe so against her anyway? Is she afraid Ava will steal Mr. Thorne? But Ava has a boyfriend, so it’s not like she’s a threat. Chloe’s making a big deal out of nothing.” “Huh? Ava has a boyfriend? She told me she was single just a few days ago. Leo, you must have heard wrong.” My eyes widened in horror. Shit. I’m busted. Before I could react, a hand cupped my chin, tilting my face upwards. A fierce, scorching kiss crashed down on mine. His tongue gently parted my lips, and our breaths tangled together in a rush of heat and desperation. His other hand moved to the nape of my neck, holding me in place, his fingers threading through my hair. The faint taste of whiskey mingled with something that was just… Ethan. His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, his palm pressing flat against the bare skin of my waist. The heat of his touch was almost enough to burn me. On the other side of the wall, Leo was shyly confessing his crush to our coworkers. Inside the room, I was being kissed by Ethan until my thoughts dissolved and my senses swam.
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