On the day the company group announced the list of candidates for the executive training program at the Belmere Street headquarters, I ordered the most expensive afternoon tea for the entire team. Yet my boyfriend, the director whom I had been dating for 3 years, gave the training assignment letter to his newly hired secretary. Holding some photos he got from who knows where, he slammed my work ID badge onto the floor. "Sophie Dunphy is suspected of leaking confidential data. She is to be fired immediately and thrown out of the building!" Security guards surrounded me, while my colleagues pointed and whispered. I felt as if I had been struck by lightning, and I clung tightly to his suit. "Cameron Hammer, you know perfectly well I didn't do that! We were supposed to go for our wedding dress fitting tomorrow! How could you do this to me?" I was trembling all over as I sobbed. The secretary walked over, carrying an ashtray filled with sticky wastewater saturated with old cigarette tar. She slammed it directly down over my head. The sour, reeking, sticky black liquid trickled down my hair and into my mouth. The onlooking colleagues burst into raucous laughter immediately. They praised the secretary, saying, "You're always full of dirty tricks! This send-off stunt is absolutely perfect." She raised an eyebrow smugly, then turned to look at me. "Don't take it personally. It's just an unforgettable little parting prank for you." With my head covered in reeking garbage, I stared coldly at Cameron, who was laughing along with the crowd. Suddenly, all of this felt so stupid.