Hailey Tang was fuming.
Not just annoyed or mildly upset, but deeply, fundamentally furious.
She had waited all morning dressed in her best blouse and pencil skirt, hair perfectly curled, shoes polished until they gleamed under the hotel lighting—only to find out that Ethan Yu and the entire team had left for the bidding event without her.
No message.
No knock on the door.
No phone call.
Just—gone.
And the worst part? Ethan had apparently instructed his assistant to stay behind and "accompany" her. Like she was a kid who needed babysitting. Or a prop to be shelved now that her purpose had been served.
"He already left an hour ago," the assistant had said cheerfully, like this was totally normal. "He said you should rest."
Rest?
She had rehearsed her pitch until two in the morning.
She had practiced every word she was going to say.
And now? She wasn't even on the team.
"Did he say why I wasn't needed anymore?" Hailey had asked stiffly, trying not to let her voice crack.
"Oh—uh—he said not to worry about it. Everything's taken care of."
Taken care of.
That was it. That was her grand role in all this. A decorative afterthought.
She didn't bother answering the assistant. She turned around, marched back into her suite, and slammed the door behind her. Then, with the quiet fury of someone who refused to cry, she began packing her things.
Hailey was done.
She zipped up her suitcase with practiced efficiency, ignoring the ache in her chest. She didn't even bother checking out at the front desk. She booked the next available flight online, turned off her phone, and left the hotel without looking back.
This was her line in the sand. Ethan Yu could win his precious bid without her. He had already made that decision for both of them.
Meanwhile, across town at the glittering Manhattan venue where billionaires and architects mingled over crystal chandeliers and espresso carts, Ethan Yu was busy shaking hands and giving interviews.
His team had delivered a flawless presentation. Their proposal—creative yet economically sound—had blown the competition out of the water. The American board had signed off almost immediately.
They'd done it.
Ethan should've been celebrating. Everyone else was. Champagne corks were popping. His lead designer was hugging the CFO. Even the usually stiff marketing director was giddy with relief.
But Ethan?
He was scanning the room.
He kept checking his watch, then his phone, then the crowd again. Looking for something—or someone—that wasn't there.
When they finally returned to the hotel for the after-party planning session, Ethan was the first to ask, "Where's Hailey?"
His voice was carefully neutral. Not too concerned. Not too detached. But his assistant caught the shift in his eyes.
"She's in her room, I think. Want me to go get her?" the woman offered.
Ethan nodded.
But fifteen minutes later, the assistant returned looking unsettled.
"Sir… she's not there."
Ethan stood up sharply. "What do you mean, not there?"
"I knocked and waited. No answer. I asked the hotel staff to check—her room is empty. All her luggage is gone. And… her phone is turned off."
The room fell silent.
Someone let out a low whistle. Another muttered, "Damn."
Ethan didn't say anything. Not immediately.
He just stared at the wall like he was trying to see through it. Like he could will her to reappear just by thinking hard enough.
But she didn't.
She was gone.
Hailey sat on the plane, forehead pressed against the cold window as the clouds drifted by. The seatbelt sign was off, and the flight attendants were serving drinks, but she didn't touch anything. Her phone was still off, tucked in her pocket like a wound she didn't want to open yet.
She had left a note on the hotel notepad. Short. Almost surgical in tone:
"Thanks for the opportunity.
Good luck with everything.
—H"
She wondered if he'd even care.
But a tiny part of her—one she hated—hoped he did.
Because for all her anger, she couldn't forget the way Ethan used to look at her when he wasn't hiding behind cold professionalism. That brief night in the rain, when he'd kissed her like she meant something. When she'd almost believed the walls between them could finally break.
Stupid, she told herself. He just needed you for your idea. Nothing more.
But why did it still feel like something more had been left unsaid?
Back in the hotel suite, Ethan had locked the door behind him and stood motionless in the middle of the room.
Everything looked exactly the same as before.
Except now, it felt hollow. Cold. As if she had taken all the warmth with her when she left.
He noticed something on the desk. A small folded note. His heart sank the moment he recognized her handwriting.
He picked it up slowly. Read the brief lines.
That was it?
No yelling, no accusations, no drama?
Just a quiet withdrawal.
He'd expected Hailey to explode, to scream at him, to demand an explanation. That, at least, would've been easier to handle than this—this complete and total absence.
Ethan slumped into the armchair and buried his face in his hands.
What had he done?
He'd told himself this was necessary. She didn't belong in a high-stakes bidding war. She'd get nervous, say something awkward. He couldn't afford any surprises on stage. Not with everything riding on this deal.
So he'd made the call to leave her behind.
For the company, he'd told himself.
For the bigger picture.
But now… that picture felt incomplete.
Because the truth was, Hailey's design wasn't just a sketch on paper. It had heart. It had soul. It had that whimsical, warm touch that made their bid stand out. Without her, the whole project might've been technically impressive—but it wouldn't have had magic.
And worse still—without her, he wasn't sure he even wanted it anymore.
That night, while the rest of the team was at the celebratory dinner, Ethan stayed behind. He sat by the window of the hotel suite, Hailey's note still in hand.
And then his phone buzzed.
It was a message.
An unknown number.
"Congratulations on winning. But you really shouldn't have let her go."
Ethan stared at the message, a chill creeping down his spine.
He typed back quickly.
"Who is this?"
No reply.
Just three dots appearing… and vanishing.
Then nothing.
Ethan leaned back, the phone still in his hand, eyes narrowed.
Something wasn't right.
And for the first time in days, his mind wasn't on the bid. It wasn't on the money.
It was on her.
And on the question he couldn't shake:
Where had Hailey really gone?