Chapter 2
I stared at the call log on my phone.
Michael Reed.
A thirty-five-year-old associate professor, actually asking his girlfriend's ex to keep footing her bills.
And this was the guy Emily thought was such an upgrade over me?
Whatever.
You two can live your own lives now.
From that day on, Alex Carter wasn't that sucker who scrimped and saved every month just to bankroll his girlfriend anymore.
Friday afternoon, I put on a suit and headed to the downtown office building.
Brian was already waiting in the conference room.
Three investors in sharp suits were seated at the table.
"Mr. Carter is here," Brian said and stood up.
The investors got to their feet.
"Mr. Carter, we've heard a lot about you. Our boss is really interested in your AI-Powered Medical Imaging Analytics," one of the investors said.
"Let's sit down and talk," I said.
I took the head of the table.
One moment, I was just another coder scraping by on four grand a month, next, I was the founder of a tech company pulling in over 30 million a year.
All it took was a second to flip the script.
The meeting dragged on for two hours.
By the end, we sealed the deal, a ten-million-dollar strategic investment.
As we walked out of the office building, Brian gave my shoulder a friendly pat.
"Welcome back, man," he said.
I didn't say anything.
Standing on the street, the sunset hit my face.
My phone rang.
It was Emily.
I stared at the screen for three seconds, then hit decline.
From now on, every text she sent, every call she made, just noise from a stranger.
Five years of love, dead.
Not even a trace of warmth left.
That weekend, I moved out of that apartment.
Brian hooked me up with a real estate agent, and we checked out a couple of places.
In the end, I picked a downtown apartment with a killer view of the river.
It was 1,500 square feet, fully furnished, and I paid 2 million dollars in cash.
When I swiped my card, the agent's hands were shaking.
"M-Mr. Carter, you're paying in full?" she stammered.
"Yeah," I replied.
I signed the papers and got the keys.
The balcony overlooked the whole river, with the city lights shimmering at night.
Brian stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the view.
"You really lived in that dump just so Emily would think you were broke?" he asked.
"Yeah," I replied.
"Was it worth it?" he asked.
I poured myself a glass of water.
"Not worth it. But at least I realized it before it was too late," I said.
Brian shook his head.
"You're great at everything, man, but when it comes to love, you're just way too stubborn," he said.
"Not anymore," I replied.
My phone buzzed.
It was a message from someone not in my contacts.
I opened it, it was Sophie Turner, Emily's best friend.
[Alex, you're being way out of line. Do you have any idea how many chances Emily gave up because of you? And now you just cut her off like that, does that even make you a man?] That was Sophie texting me.
I fired off a reply. [What chances did she give up? The chance to get a room with Michael Reed?]
Sophie didn't reply.
Ten minutes later, she sent another message.
[You're a total psycho.]
I just sent her a "pat" emoji.
Then I blocked her.
*****
Monday rolled around, the day after I moved in.
I was working from home in the study of my new place.
Brian called me.
"Hey, just giving you a heads up. Emily dropped a message in the college group chat, saying you supported her for five years and then suddenly cut her off, painting you as a control freak," he said.
"Let her say whatever she wants," I said.
"But there are a few of our college friends in that group. Some of them have already messaged me, asking if it's true," Brian said.
I thought for a moment.
"True or not, who cares? I don't owe her any explanation," I said.
"Alright. But just so you know, she's playing the victim card now," Brian said.
I hung up and opened my laptop.
I didn't check the group chat.
No need.
People couldn't be stopped from running their mouths.
But the truth would speak for itself in time.
Still, I was curious about one thing.
I opened Emily's Instagram.
So she hasn't blocked me yet, huh?
Her latest post was from yesterday. [Some people give just to control, not because they love you. Finally woke up.]
There were over twenty comments, all from her classmates and colleagues, offering their support.
[You've got this, Emily!]
[You deserve so much better.]
[Good for you, leaving someone like that.]
I closed the app.
For five years, I never posted a single thing on Instagram.
Never once showed off the money I sent her.
Never flaunted the gifts I bought her.
Nothing at all.
So whatever story she told, that was what everyone believed.
But I didn't care anymore.
I really didn't care anymore.