Chapter 2

Looking over the contract, which essentially bound my entire personal net worth to his success, Julian's brow furrowed.

He hated political infighting, and he hated being cornered into a high-stakes play even more.

Especially by a woman whose reputation was built on calculating every move.

"You venture capitalists truly never miss a beat. Your skill at manipulating people is impressive."

"Rest assured, Director Vance. Partner with me, and you won't regret it."

He cast a cold glance over me. As he brushed past my shoulder, the lighter in my pocket slipped out and hit the floor.

"Clatter!"

Before I could bend down, he beat me to it and picked it up.

"This is..."

Noticing the nearly faded engravings along the metal casing, he looked at me.

"You still keep this?"

I snatched it back hastily. "Don't laugh, Director Vance. This... is the most important thing I own."

For some reason, his brow twitched, and the annoyance from being pressured into a contract seemed to vanish into thin air.

I didn't tell him that his cousin had dropped this years ago while "saving" me.

I had been so foolish. Because of a single rescue, I gave Ethan my whole heart, keeping even the lighter he dropped as a cherished treasure to this very day.

"Mr. Miller," Julian called out, his tone noticeably less frosty.

"See Ms. Moore out."

His chief assistant stepped forward immediately to escort me.

Julian had an intense workload, and our alliance had been struck under mutual pressure.

I kept quiet about our deal to avoid rubbing him the wrong way.

And since he was considered the least threatening executive in the company, Old Mr. Vance wouldn't care who he associated with unless Julian brought it up himself.

Consequently, at the Vance Corporation's mid-year review summit, people were still gossiping about Ethan and Chloe's rushed yet lavish wedding.

Wanting to steer clear of the chatter, I slipped away to the rooftop garden, turning the lighter over in my fingers as I plotted my next moves.

Ethan, however, sought me out on his own.

"Your favorite Black Swan cake. I had a Michelin-starred pastry chef make it specially for you."

A sleek, luxurious bakery box was set down before me. Ethan stood beside me, studying my profile with an arrogant smirk.

"I've always wondered... why were you always so obsessed with me?"

"Ever since we were teenagers, you followed me around like a lost puppy. I couldn't shake you off even if I tried."

I stared at him as if watching a pitiful clown performing on stage.

"Why was I so obsessed with you?"

I let out a soft scoff, repeating his words.

"Probably because my brain was fried in my past life, and I was so blind that I mistook cheap gravel for a diamond."

The smug grin on Ethan's face froze instantly.

"Stella, you..."

"Me what?" I cut him off, my voice dropping to a glacial chill. "Mr. Vance, people need to move forward. No one wants to live in a dumpster forever. I wish you and Chloe a long, miserable eternity together."

His face flushed purple with rage, but when his eyes landed on the lighter I was mindlessly fidgeting with, his supreme arrogance flooded right back.

"Big talk. If you're so over me, why are you still clinging to that?"

He was entirely convinced that no matter how cold I acted, this lighter was undeniable proof that I still harbored lingering feelings for him.

I couldn't be bothered to explain.

In our past life, he stripped me of everything and threw me off a building.

In this life, I was going to ensure he tasted the agony of plummeting from the very pinnacle of success.

Instead of engaging with his taunts, I picked up the Black Swan cake box, holding it casually by the ribbon.

The corners of Ethan's lips curled up again, convinced that deep down, I couldn't bear to reject his "thoughtfulness."

I turned around just in time to see Julian's chief assistant walking down the corridor toward us.

"Mr. Miller," I called out.

"Ms. Moore." Miller nodded respectfully.

"Is Director Vance still working late?" I lifted the cake box slightly, flashing a polite smile. "Perfect timing. Consider this a late-night snack from me to him. Would you mind taking it up to his office?"

Miller was taken aback for a second, but he caught on quickly and took the box. "Of course. I'll hand it to him directly."

Behind me, every ounce of color drained from Ethan's face.

The flattering gesture he had so carefully orchestrated had been casually repurposed as a late-night snack for another man.

It was more humiliating than if I had smashed the cake directly into his face.

"Stella Moore, you're playing with fire!" he hissed through clenched teeth before storming off.