Chapter 1

Tags: Breakup Invoice, Cheating Ex Exposed, Wedding Smackdown, Corporate Revenge

My ex-fiancé just mailed me a wedding invitation, along with a $500,000 invoice for what he called "Relationship Depreciation."

He left me a message on SnapChat:

"Chloe, this covers the three years you freeloaded off me. Pay up, or I’ll make a scene at your new company."

Staring at the screen, I actually burst out laughing.

When he started his business three years ago, I sold the old house my grandmother left me and gave him $300,000 as seed money.

Now that he struck it rich with my money, he turned around, got engaged to a billionaire's heiress, and tried to kick me to the curb like trash.

The audacity of this man was truly off the charts.

Taking a deep breath, I took a screenshot of the invoice and sent it to my current boss—who also happened to be my boyfriend, Ethan Vance.

Ethan only replied with three words: "Wait for me."

A week from now would be Chad’s lavish wedding with the heiress, Gia Sterling.

It was about time to settle our accounts once and for all.

After Ethan sent those three words, my phone went silent.

I stared at the screen for ten minutes, while Chad bombarded me with three more messages on SnapChat.

"Chloe, stop playing dead. Five hundred thousand. Not a penny less."

"I know how much you have in your account. You only have $8,600 left in your checking. Figure out the rest yourself."

"Your new firm deals with medical devices, right? I happen to know a few of your top clients. Want me to give them a call and chat about your character?"

I turned my phone face down on the desk and took a sip of coffee.

Zoey from HR poked her head in. "Chloe, Mr. Vance wants you in his office."

I put down my mug.

Pushing open Ethan’s office door, I saw him standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, on a phone call.

From the few lines I caught, he was talking to an attorney.

He glanced back at me and tapped his index finger against the files on his mahogany desk.

I walked over and flipped through them.

Page one: Chad’s company financial cash flow over the past three years.

Page two: A copy of my bank transfer receipt from when I sold my grandma’s property and wired him the seed money.

Page three: His company's official registration, where the shareholder registry clearly listed only two names: Chad Brooks and Gia Sterling, split seventy to thirty.

Page four: Screenshots of my SnapChat chat history with him.

From three years ago when he swore, "Chloe, once I make it, I’ll spend my whole life treating you like a queen,"

To three months ago when he said, "Let’s break up. Gia needs me more than you do."

Ethan ended the call and walked over, closing the folder.

"That old property you sold back then—how much is it worth now?"

"The whole area was rezoned for high-end redevelopment. My little four-hundred-square-foot place is currently appraised at around $3.2 million."

Ethan pulled open his drawer, took out a checkbook, wrote a few swift strokes, and slid the check over.

$3.2 million.

"Ethan, this..."

"It’s not for you," he cut in smoothly, flipping the check over and jotting down a note on the back. "It’s for the Sterling family."

He wrote: *Mr. Sterling, I heard your daughter is looking to acquire the Westside redevelopment parcel. I happen to hold the exclusive development rights. Consider this my investment. Coupled with Chad’s 30% equity claim, is this enough to have him kicked out penniless before the wedding?*

"When did you get the development rights?" I asked, stunned.

"The moment you forwarded me his bank statements," Ethan said, sliding the check into an envelope. "The Sterling family has been chasing that Westside land for six months. I’ve been sitting on it. Why do you think Gia is rushing to marry him? Because her father stated that Chad’s shares can only be transferred to her name after the wedding to help fund that exact acquisition."

He pressed the intercom. "Mr. Miller, you can make the move now."

That afternoon, another SnapChat arrived from Chad.

"Chloe, this is your final warning. If the wire doesn't clear by noon tomorrow, I’m putting up picket banners outside your office building. I have everything now; I don't give a damn about losing face. But can a newly hired director like you afford the scandal?"

I didn't reply.

Five minutes later, my phone rang.

I answered and put it on speaker.

"Chloe, do you not understand plain English?!"

"Chad," I said calmly. "I got your $500,000 bill."

"Then wire the damn cash! Stop stalling!"

"I reviewed your breakdown," I said evenly. "You charged me three years of rent at $4,000 a month, totaling $144,000. Groceries at $2,500 a month, totaling $90,000. Utilities and maintenance at $800 a month, totaling $28,800. Along with miscellaneous fees, rounding up to an even $500,000."

"Itemized clearly. Got a problem with that?"

"No problem at all," I replied. "It's just that you seemed to have missed a line item."

"What line item?"

"Three years ago, your $300,000 startup capital came from selling my grandmother's old house. A prime spot in a top school district that got rezoned last year."

Silence fell over the other end for two full seconds.

"Whether your dump got rezoned has nothing to do with me! You gave me that money voluntarily! I didn't hold a gun to your head!"

"Right, you didn't," I laughed softly. "So I drew up a new invoice for you. $300,000 principal, calculated with three years of compounding bank interest, plus inflation and opportunity costs. I rounded it down for you."

"How much?!"

"One million dollars."