Chapter 3

03

The early-autumn wind drifted down the street.

I looked at the dark set of Val's face and felt nothing close to satisfaction.

What a ridiculous scene.

Raised on the finest elite education money could buy, and here I was, pointlessly measuring myself against another man over a woman.

All at once it struck me as utterly meaningless.

I was about to walk away when the man behind me spoke again.

"What would you know?"

"Back then, if I hadn't talked her into chasing you, you think you'd ever have caught her eye?"

My step froze. I turned sharply to look at him.

Val stood with his arms crossed, staring at me with an arrogant tilt to his chin.

"When she said she was lonely abroad, I was the one who told her to try dating someone."

"When she said she kind of liked you, I was her strategist, plotting out every move for her, step by step."

"That first date, when she suddenly kissed you on the Ferris wheel, I taught her to do that."

"That restaurant she took you to for Christmas dinner, I scouted it ahead of time, went through the options, and sent it to her."

"Even the gifts for every one of your anniversaries, she picked them off a shortlist I gave her."

"You thought her feelings for you ran deep. From start to finish, I was the one pulling the strings behind it all."

He watched my expression with care, his grin wide and showy.

"Oh, and do you know why I told her to go abroad in the first place?"

"Because I knew what would make her see our bond clearly again was never time. It was distance."

"When she got me back after losing me, that's when she'd truly realize I was irreplaceable in her life."

I looked at him without a word.

The grief pressing on my chest was suddenly replaced by a wave of cold dread—

I had actually imagined spending the rest of my life with Delilah.

How absurd.

Three years ago, the marriage-contract proposals stacked up in front of me in a mountain, and I hadn't spared a single one a glance.

Only because I'd never lacked for anything since childhood, and I knew exactly what I deserved.

I was supposed to have love that was pure and real.

So when I went abroad to study, I turned down every shortcut my parents had laid out for me.

Beyond honestly finishing my degree, maybe I could also find a love that was truly my own.

And Delilah's appearance had fit every fantasy I'd had about the person I'd end up with.

She wasn't the one who pursued me hardest, but she was the one who moved me the most.

Steady, capable, driven, and respectful of others.

Twenty-some years of life, and for the first time, I had truly fallen in love.

I just never imagined there was someone else in that water too.

"You'd better know your place before I decide to actually make a move."

"After all, she kept you for three years abroad. You've already skimmed plenty of benefits off her."

Hearing that, I actually laughed.

"She kept me?"

"What else would you call it?" Val scoffed, every word laced with mockery. "Four days a week you were freeloading at her apartment, eating and drinking on her dime. You liked tennis, so you sweet-talked her into paying three years of your club dues. You liked grand gestures, so you had her buy you expensive gifts for every holiday…"

Listening to him lay it all out, one item after another,

a wave of absurdity rose up in me.

Who could have imagined that I, the only son of the Mason family, would one day be branded some unforgivable kept man out of another man's mouth?

I really wanted to ask Delilah to my face: hadn't I paid all of it back to her, several times over?

I could take my losses in love as a lesson.

But smearing me over money, as the son of a business empire, forgive me if I couldn't let that slide.

I drew a deep breath and was about to speak.

A long black car pulled slowly to a stop at the curb.

The window came down, and a familiar, striking face appeared.

"Mr. Mason, I finally found you."

I blanked for a couple of seconds, then placed the newcomer at once.

Deborah Simmons, the only daughter of the Simmons Group.

If her family hadn't moved across the Atlantic and settled there the year she finished middle school, our childhood friendship carried right through to now.

That practically made us childhood sweethearts.

We'd kept in touch over the years, but seeing her turn up out of nowhere still caught me off guard.

"What are you doing here?"

There was something knowing in her smile.

"Coming to steal you away, obviously."

Then her gaze swept over the space beside me.

"Where's the woman you brought back? I've got my lines and the thirty million ready to go, just waiting for her to nod and say the word."

I stalled, caught somewhere between laughing and not.

Beside me, Val's eyes had already gone red.

He stared hard at the luxury car and at Deborah, his tone all sneering insinuation.

"No wonder you're so calm. Turns out there's more than one fish in the pond."

He gave Deborah a fawning little smile.

"Hey, sweetheart, you look like a smart one, so let me do you a favor and give you a heads-up—"

Crack—

A ringing slap echoed down the whole street.

Deborah immediately started clapping, her voice full of admiration.

"Nicely done. Though isn't your technique a little rusty?"

I ignored the jab and kept my cold eyes on the dazed Val.

"You really think I'm some pushover you can squeeze whenever you like?"

Val cupped his cheek.

"You dare hit me?"

Deborah looped her arm through mine, chin high.

"He did. So what?"

Then a voice came from across the street.

"Edmund Mason!"

I looked up. Delilah stood on the far side, a bag of things in her hand, her eyes on me both shocked and furious.

And on this side, Val chose exactly that moment to start crying.

I used every ounce of my upbringing to hold back the urge to roll my eyes.

I turned, pulled open the car door, and got in.

Deborah didn't move. She sized Delilah up with open interest, her tone playful:

"That's her?"

I had no patience left.

"Are you coming or not?"

"What's the rush? Afraid she'll really break up with you over money? Isn't this the perfect chance to see her clearly?"

She said it, then shot another meaningful glance at the woman hurrying toward us.

"Want to bet? I won't even have to name a price, and she'll let you leave with me. Might even be the one to ask for the breakup."

I drew a deep breath:

"No need. We already broke up."

Deborah raised a brow: "When?"

"Now."