I died at 3:14 a.m. on a Monday.
They say death is peaceful. Mine wasn't.
I was lying on a pile of unpaid bills, my back against the icy linoleum floor, fluorescent light flickering above like a bad omen. My phone, screen cracked from a fall last week I never bothered to fix, buzzed one last time with a push notification that felt like a slap in the face:
"Zhao Yifeng has updated his profile: Founder & CEO of NovaTech Holdings."
Zhao Yifeng. My boyfriend. My business partner. The man who once held my hand and promised we'd conquer the world together.
Also, the man who stole every cent I had, left me with millions in debt, and vanished with a new name, a new life, and apparently, a new company.
I didn't even have the strength to laugh at the irony.
One moment I was staring at his profile photo—new suit, new smile, standing in front of a banner that screamed success—and the next, everything faded. My body gave up. My heart slowed. And somewhere between fury and despair, I slipped away.
But I wasn't done.
Not even close.