After I Paid His Debts, He Kicked Me Out

To pay off my fiancs debts, I slaved away day and night in his familys small workshop. Even when his parents, to save money, fired all the workers and made me do the work of five people, I gritted my teeth and accepted it. He promised that once the debts were cleared by the end of the year, he would marry me lavishly and give me a big diamond ring.

But when the year-end arrived, his mother handed me a hard-seat train ticket back to my hometown, saying that a woman like me, who only knew how to do manual labor, was unworthy of him now that he had turned his fortunes around.

The Geller family's workshop was exceptionally bright tonight. The moment the last batch of custom leather bags was sealed and loaded onto the logistics truck, I let out a long breath. Three million in debt, finally cleared.

Looking at my calloused hands and the dense needle pricks on my fingertips, my heart felt sweet. Leo had promised me a big diamond ring and a grand wedding once the debt was paid. For that promise, even when my finger was pierced by an awl, Id just slap on a bandage and keep working. His parents fired all the workers to save money; I took on five people's jobs, toiling day and night.

Fortunately, the hard times were over. I purposely changed into a clean dress, an old model from three years ago, but neatly pressed. Passing a cake shop, I spent fifty dollars on a small cake, thinking of it as a celebration.

Pushing open the private dining room door, the cheerful chatter inside instantly ceased. Leo was gently peeling a shrimp for the woman beside him, his movements tender. She wore a Chanel suit, her makeup exquisite, an air of arrogance in her every gesture. Leos mother sat beside her, her face wreathed in smiles, serving the woman food. Willow dear, eat more, look how thin you are. How will you bear me big, chubby grandchildren?

I stood frozen in the doorway, the cheap cake in my hand feeling glaringly out of place. Leos mother looked up, her smile vanishing instantly. What are you standing in the doorway for? Dont you know to close the door? The cold draft is coming in. She waved her hand dismissively. Leo had just finished peeling the shrimp and placed it in the womans bowl without even glancing at me. Since youre here, sit down. This is Willow Crawley, our new design director. Dont overthink it.

I wanted not to overthink it. But what design director gets peeled shrimp from the boss? What director makes that caustic Mrs. Geller smile like that?

I quietly sat in the corner. The table was laden with abalone and lobster, but there wasn't an extra set of chopsticks for me. Willow Crawley glanced at me, covering her mouth with a soft chuckle: Liam, is this the capable big sister you mentioned? She looks so down-to-earth.

Mrs. Geller interjected: Isnt she? Just destined for rough work. Nothing like you, Willow, enjoying an office job.

At the dinner table, they chatted about the companys future IPO plans, about traveling to ten countries across continents. No one mentioned my wedding, or the promised diamond ring. I took a deep breath, interrupting their grand visions: Leo, the debt is cleared. When are we getting married?

The air froze instantly. Willow Crawley put down her chopsticks, looking at Leo with a smirk. Mrs. Geller slammed her chopsticks onto the table, making a sharp sound. She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and slapped it in front of me. Married? Married to what? Amy, youre too clueless.

I recognized the paper. It was a hard-seat train ticket back to my hometown for tomorrow morning.

The debts cleared, you should go back to your hometown and rest. This is tomorrow mornings ticket. No need to thank me. Mrs. Gellers tone was matter-of-fact, as if she were dismissing a beggar.

I looked at Leo in disbelief: What does this mean?

Leo lowered his head, sipping his soup, avoiding my gaze, his voice muffled: Mom is doing this for your own good. Youre too tired. Go back and rest for a while.

Rest? Are you trying to get rid of me? My voice trembled.

Willow Crawley laughed. Oh, dont say such harsh things. Its mainly that the workshop is moving towards a high-end route, dealing with the upper crust. She looked me up and down, her gaze settling on my scarred hands. Your artisan style is too rustic. Those hands are rough as bark. What if you damage top-grade leather? Even selling the company wouldn't cover the cost. Leo is now Mr. Geller. He cant have a factory worker for a wife, can he? How undignified.

I stared intently at Leo: Is this also what you mean?

Leo finally looked up, his eyes evasive yet tinged with impatience: Amy, Willow is the daughter of a leather factory owner; she can bring resources to the company. You what can you do besides mend things? One needs to know their place.

Three years of ceaseless toil, in his words, became only good for mending things. Yet, when he knelt before me, begging for help, he called me a modern-day master craftsman.

I didn't cry, didn't make a scene, didn't grow hysterical. I picked up the train ticket and, in front of them, tore it into tiny pieces. Leo, dont regret this later.

Mrs. Geller rolled her eyes: Regret? Regret not making you pay for this meal? Get out, seeing you turns my stomach! I turned and left, Willow Crawleys triumphant giggle echoing behind me.

I returned to the workshop, not for sentimentality, but to retrieve my livelihood. That set of tools was a gift from my master when I started my apprenticeship; some had been with me for ten years. I had just opened the toolbox when Willow Crawley, arm in arm with Leo, followed me in. She covered her nose, a look of disgust on her face: Liam, whats that smell in here? So foul, like the sweat of common laborers. Leo chuckled apologetically: Ill have someone spray air freshener right away. We just finished a rush order.

I ignored the despicable pair, reaching for my specialized awl and trimming knife. Hey! What are you doing! Willow Crawley suddenly shrieked. Mrs. Geller appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my toolbox. Amy, why are your hands so dirty? Youre fired, and you still want to steal company property?

I looked at her coldly: These are my own tools. My name is engraved on them. I had scrimped and saved for two years for this set of tools; every knife was custom-made from top-grade steel. Leo frowned, walked over, and pushed my hand away. Amy, dont be so petty. Willow just took over the design department and needs some handy tools. Just leave these old things for her to practice with. Ill buy them from you.

Buy? Every penny he had now, I had earned for him.

Not for sale. I reached out to grab them. Willow Crawley, quick-witted, snatched my most cherished century-old sandalwood pony clamp. It was an heirloom passed down from my master, used to hold leather in place, and utterly irreplaceable on the market. This wood looks nice, dark. I can just chop it up to brew tea; it has an antique flavor. She knocked the pony clamp against the table corner with loud thuds. My rage instantly flared. You wouldn't dare!

I rushed to retrieve it, but Leo pushed me away. My foot slipped, and I fell hard into the scattered leather scraps. My palm landed on a discarded leather cutting blade. Excruciating pain. Blood instantly stained the floor.

Leo didn't even glance at me, anxiously pulling Willow Crawley closer: Willow, are you okay? Didnt hurt your hand, did you? Willow Crawley coyly snuggled into his arms: You scared me to death, her eyes are so fierce, like she wants to eat people. Mrs. Geller pointed at my nose and cursed: Defying heaven! Still daring to fight back? Believe it or not, Ill call the police!

I picked myself up from the floor, blood dripping from my palm. Looking at this shameless trio, I burst out laughing. Fine, keep your things. I just fear that these high-end tools might be too much for certain delicate claws to handle.

I took nothing, walking out the door empty-handed. Outside, it was raining heavily, cold water washing away the bloodstains on my hand. It hurt, but I felt clear-headed.

My phone vibrated. Leo sent a Venmo transfer: 200 dollars. Note: Travel expenses, dont think its too little. Ive been more than generous.

I stared at the number and simply turned off my phone.

Less than two hours after leaving the Geller family workshop, I found myself sitting in a coffee shop. The wound on my hand had been simply bandaged. Just then, a news notification popped up on my phone. A certain international luxury brand was recruiting a chief restorer in this city.

I looked at my calloused hands and dialed the number.

After receiving a reply, I turned on the camera in the Geller family workshop. I had had it installed previously when things went missing from the workshop. At this moment, the Geller family workshop was filled with a joyful atmosphere. Their big client, Mr. Smith, had placed an urgent additional order. This order involved three top-grade Himalayan crocodile skins, priceless, and represented the Geller familys first big score after turning their fortunes around. If done well, the Geller family could enter the ranks of high-end manufacturing.

Mrs. Geller was beaming, praising her new daughter-in-law for bringing prosperity to her son. See, Willow arrives and a big order comes in, unlike that jinx who only knew how to work herself to death.

In the workshop, Willow Crawley looked at the three skins, her brows furrowed. What kind of skin is this? It smells fishy, disgusting. She had someone bring several bottles of cheap, strong perfume and sprayed it generously onto the million-dollar skins. To get rid of the smell, otherwise how can Mr. Smith use them?

An old worker nearby tried to advise: Director Crawley, this leather cant come into contact with chemical agents Shut up! Am I the university graduate or are you? Do you understand what fragrance treatment is? Willow Crawley snapped.

Then, to speed up the process, she complained that natural air drying was too slow. Turn on that dryer, full power, blow directly on them! They must be dry tonight! Crocodile skin relies heavily on activity and oil balance; high temperatures are strictly forbidden.

Even more fatally, when it came to the stitching phase, Willow Crawley, holding my set of tools, had no idea how to use them. The diamond chisel felt like an iron block in her hands; after a few taps, she complained her hand hurt. What kind of broken tools are these, so outdated! She threw down the chisel and had someone fetch an electric drill meant for renovations. Use this to drill the holes, quickly!

As the drill whirred, the originally taut, delicate, and snow-mountain-gradient colored crocodile skin began to shriek. The high temperature caused the leather fibers to break, and the surface quickly wrinkled and cracked. The violent drilling created ugly, blown-out holes.

Three hours later, Leo looked at the three pieces of leather on the table, wrinkled like old tree bark, and felt a little panicky. Willow, this why does this look different from what Amy used to make?

Willow Crawley swept her hair back, brimming with confidence: What do you know? This is the current aged style, its artistic! Foreigners like Mr. Smith love this unique, imperfect beauty the most.

Really?

Of course, Im a professional. This is called Vintage style, its even more expensive than new!

I laughed inwardly; this family actually believed her, still immersed in the dream of millions about to come in. I turned off my phone, no longer caring about their self-destructive behavior, and began preparing for my interview a few days later.

When the French interviewer looked at my portfolio and then at my scarred hands, he said only one sentence: Start tomorrow, annual salary of one million. Miss Lin, we need your hands.

I signed the contract, walked out of the building, and the rain had stopped.

On my first day at work, I scrolled through Leos social media. A nine-grid post, all photos of Willow Crawley wearing a large diamond ring, with the citys most luxurious hotel as the backdrop. The caption: [Finally met the right person, this is a soulmate. For the rest of my life, please advise me.] The location showed they had booked the entire place; I heard it cost two hundred thousand. And they used Mr. Smiths newly transferred deposit.

In the comments, Mrs. Geller replied: [Ten thousand times better than that country bumpkin who only knew how to work! My son has excellent taste!]

I sneered, just about to toss my phone aside, when an unknown number called. It was the gatekeepers number from the Geller family workshop. But I knew it definitely wasnt the gatekeeper calling now. The moment I answered, Leos furious roar nearly deafened me.

Amy! You b*tch! Did you tamper with the leather? Why did all the skins crack?

It turned out Mr. Smith had just inspected the goods. Seeing the three crocodile skins aged into rags, the foreigner erupted on the spot. Not only did he return the goods, but he also demanded ten times the compensation as per the contract. That was a full fifteen million!

I held the phone a little further away, replying coolly: Leo, a brain is a good thing to have. When I left, the leather was locked in the warehouse, and the key was in Willow Crawleys hand. What, did your university-educated expert not tell you that crocodile skin is most afraid of high-temperature drying and alcohol sprays?

Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Clearly, Willow Crawley hadn't dared to tell the truth. Leos tone softened slightly, but still carried a commanding edge: Alright, stop sulking. Come back quickly and fix this batch of skins. As long as you fix them, I might consider letting you be Willows assistant and Ill pay you a salary.

Assistant? Leo, are you still dreaming? I almost laughed out loud. I am now Cartiers specially appointed chief restorer, earning five thousand an hour. Want to hire me? Fine, get in line. There are three other luxury brands waiting ahead of you.

What BS are you spouting! With your looks Before he could finish, I hung up and immediately sent him a photo. It was the first page of the contract I had just signed, clearly stating: Top Leather Goods Restoration Expert, Annual Salary of One Million (after tax).

After sending it, I blocked him.

Ten minutes later, a commotion erupted downstairs at the company. The Geller family trio had actually shown up. Mrs. Geller charged at the front, pouncing like a mad dog, trying to scratch my face. Amy! You ungrateful wretch who watched us die! How can your heart be so vicious! You could fix it, so why didnt you?!

Colleagues crowded around, curious onlookers, and security guards were rushing over. Willow Crawley hid behind Leo, crying tearfully, pointing at me and shouting: Its you! You deliberately didnt teach me! Those tools must have been tampered with by you, otherwise how could I have made such mistakes!

Leo, thinking he had found my weakness, yelled loudly: Everyone, come and see! This is a tramp I dumped, and now for revenge, shes trying to destroy my ex-boyfriends family! Colleagues whispered, their eyes complex.

At this moment, I no longer held back. I pulled a document from my bag and flung it directly at Mrs. Gellers face. The papers scattered across the floor.

This is my lawyers letter. For those three years at the workshop, I never signed a labor contract and never received a single penny in wages. I have records of all the accounts. According to labor law, you owe me one million eight hundred thousand in salary and overtime pay.

Furthermore, the set of tools Willow Crawley destroyed, that pony clamp is a Qing Dynasty antique, valued at three hundred thousand. And that diamond chisel she threw away is a discontinued item.

I stepped closer, my gaze like a knife. Pay up!

Mrs. Geller was startled by my imposing presence and collapsed onto the ground. You youre extorting us!

Whether I am or not, well see in court. The evidence is irrefutable; you cant deny it.