I had been a sports journalist for five years. During that time, I wrote 600 articles. Yet 520 of them bore the byline of Sarah Powell, a woman backed by powerful connections. I went to corporate headquarters to lodge formal complaints. I took my fight online. I penned nearly a thousand letters of protest. My boyfriend, Michael Ashton, even sold his house and his car just to hire the finest legal counsel for me. But none of it worked. The industry blacklisted me completely. Meanwhile, Michael remained stuck in the position of deputy editor and never received another promotion. He never uttered a word of complaint. He simply held me tightly in his arms, his eyes glistening with tears. "I do not feel wronged at all," he whispered. "I just feel sorry for you." Later, I exhausted every connection I had. I flew all the way to Carbathia and spent two weeks downing brandy with an agent just to build a relationship. In the end, I finally secured the exclusive interview rights for the World Cup champions. I wanted nothing more than to leave this place with Michael, move to a new country, and restart our careers together. Then I saw Sarah's latest update on Twitter. So grateful to my boyfriend for gifting me the exclusive World Cup champion interview rights! Life really is effortless for me. The attached photo showed two hands tightly intertwined. The plain silver band on the man's ring finger caught the light with a blinding glare. It was the very ring Michael had bought with the last of his savings on the night he sold his home. "Once you get your bylines back, you magnificent journalist, you had better not abandon me," he had said. Back then, wearing bittersweet smiles, we had stood together in the cold wind and slipped rings onto each other's fingers. Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a message from the agent. Agent: Lauren, Captain Buckley will only accept you as the interviewer. Otherwise, we are terminating the contract. I stood at the door of the office. I dimmed my phone screen, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. "You can keep that rotten excuse for a man. But you can't take my exclusive interview."