The very next morning, he invited me to meet at a private restaurant. 

I barely recognized him. His fire-engine red hair was dyed black, and all his bold jewelry and studded outfits were gone. He only wore a plain white shirt and jeans. 

I glanced at his eyebrow, and he smiled like he knew what I was thinking. 

“It was just glued on. For fun. What? Don’t recognize me?” 

I chuckled. “Not quite.” 

Everything went smoothly. We booked the most exclusive venue and agreed on the scale of the event. Decorations and attire? All Julian’s call. We split costs down the middle. 

He leaned on one hand, cheeks puffed with churros, looking like a cartoon hamster. “All up to me? Don’t you care? It’s your wedding too.” 

I shrugged. “They say compliant wives bring fortune. I’m just trying to boost your luck.” 

Julian laughed so loud that the waiter turned around. That’s when I noticed that his eyes were sharp, and when he smiled, two little dimples danced on his cheeks. He looked nothing like the wild party boy the media made him out to be. 

After we wrapped up, Julian had family matters to attend to and left first. 

As I stepped out of our private room, guess who I bumped into? Ryan and Amber. 

They looked stunned. Ryan recovered quickly, glancing at me and the now-empty room behind me. 

“Oh, you followed us here, didn’t you? Come on, someone like you only ever eats grab-and-go. No way you belong here.” He sneered. “You were lying to me back then, weren’t you? You can’t stand seeing me with Amber.” 

Amber chimed in, all sweet concern, “Ryan, stop. Claire’s already heartbroken that she couldn’t marry you. This is all my fault…” 

As she spoke, the car keys dangling from her wrist flashed like a beacon; it was a limited-edition supercar. There was no way she bought that herself. Ryan must have gifted it. Head to toe, she was decked out in luxury brands. 

Meanwhile, when I dated him, I never got a scarf, let alone a car. I even transferred him money now and then so he could go clubbing. I had believed him when he used to plead poverty to me. 

Now I knew better. He played me for a fool long before Amber came into the picture. 

She caught me staring and doubled down on the smug smile. 

Before I could say anything, Ryan beat me to it. “Why apologize? She’s the one who won’t let go. She should be begging us.” 

Then, he smirked and raised his chin. “You want me back, Claire? Not impossible, but I’ve got conditions now. 

“You trashed me last night, so I’m gonna need compensation for emotional damage. Say, a million a month for Amber and me. New outfits and handbags delivered every season. Oh, and don’t bother us when we’re together. The wedding is for Amber only.” 

He rattled off demands like he was reading off a grocery list. The most absurd part? He thought he was being generous. 

I swept my gaze across both of them and said flatly, “Do you want the Sullivan Group to sponsor your mental healthcare? I know an amazing neurologist overseas. Want an introduction?” 

Ryan blinked. His face turned beet red. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

I shrugged. “Nothing. Just that you’re both nuts.” 

His outraged screams followed me down the hall. 

I didn’t turn back once. Some things weren’t worth my energy.