"Choose between the person you love or your future?"
This was the question I answered for Wilfred Barlow on New Year's Eve eight years ago.
At that time, the usually proud Wilfred was on his knees in the snow, clutching the hem of my coat, begging me not to leave.
I remained unmoved, my eyes cold and distant.
"Wilfred, you don't understand. The right person will be part of my future, not separate from it."
That year, Wilfred's career and love life both crumbled.
I never imagined that eight years later, we would meet again at a bidding meeting for a major contract.
I was there as a competitor, trying to win a project that could save my struggling company.
And there was Wilfred, sitting in the chairman's seat, looking down at me from his position of power.
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