Chapter 1

After ten years together, I helped my boyfriend build a ten-billion-dollar empire.

When we broke up, he handed me 250,000 dollars as a breakup fee, calling it my "investment return", paid back in full, principal and interest included.

Without missing a beat, I sent the money straight to my arch-nemesis, the rising star in business he absolutely hated.

"Take it," I told my rival. "This is your startup capital. I'm going to be your biggest shareholder."

Later, at a business summit, my ex blocked my way, practically begging. "Em, I messed up. Can we keep the interest rolling?"

My rival slid his arm around my waist and smirked. "Sorry, man, but her heart and her money? They're all mine now."

*****

My phone screen lit up.

A bank notification lay there, cold and impersonal: [Account ending in 6888 received 250,000 dollars at 12:37. Current balance...]

I was staring at my computer screen, tweaking the Nth version of my proposal, with a half cup of cold coffee in hand. When I saw that number, I paused for a second, then let out a laugh.

250,000 dollars.

That number was something else, right down to the last dollar.

I set down my coffee, picked up my phone, and sent a message to the contact labeled "Alex Reed": [Got the money. What's this about?]

His reply came back almost instantly, like he'd had it ready to go: [The password is the date we first met. There's 250,000 dollars in there, not a dollar more, not a dollar less.]

[That's every cent you've invested in me all these years, plus 15% annual compound interest. Take it, and we're square.]

I stared at the message, reading it word by word, three times in a row.

Ten years.

We had been together for ten years.

From eighteen to twenty-eight, the best years of a woman's life.

When I was eighteen, I got into Riverdale University. Right after freshman orientation, at the first club fair, I met Alex.

He was wearing a faded plaid shirt, standing behind the computer club booth, his eyes shining like stars as he told me about his startup. It's a secondhand marketplace for students.

Back then, he was flat broke, surviving on 100 dollars a month, living off bread and pickles every day. I felt bad for him, so I split my own allowance with him, pretending my family was rich and my parents were generous.

That winter, when we were sophomores, his project landed its first 30,000 dollars in angel investment. He was so happy he spun me around in the snow.

I said, "Alex, one day you're going to be a big shot." He replied, "Em, when I make it, I'm going to give you the best the world has to offer."

And he really did make it.

When we graduated, his company secured its Series A funding, valued at over 100 million dollars.

I gave up my shot at grad school and joined his company, starting from the bottom in operations. I helped him build the team, handled all the little things, and even took the hit for him at those social events he hated.

As the company grew, he got busier and busier, coming home later and later. Our conversations went from "Em, what do you think of this plan?" to "I'm busy. Talk to my secretary."

Last year, his company went public, and its market cap shot past 10 billion dollars.

He was the guy on every business magazine cover, the legend everyone in the startup world talked about, and the one every investor wanted a piece of.

And me? I was still the ops director who'd drop everything when he called, the girlfriend who'd stay up till three a.m. just to brew him some black coffee after his endless business dinners.

Wait, no.

Ex-girlfriend.

I didn't reply to his message. I put my phone down and kept working on my proposal.

At three in the afternoon, the office door opened.

"Em," I heard Alex's voice behind me.

I didn't turn around. "What do you need, Mr. Reed?"

He came around to stand in front of me, dressed in a designer suit, not a strand of hair out of place. Behind those gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes held an emotion I couldn't quite figure out.

"You got the money," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Good," Alex said, pausing. "Em, I know you might feel a certain way... but I hope you get it. Business and personal stuff should stay separate. I don't want there to always be this vibe between us that..."

"A condescending attitude?" I finished his sentence for him.

He froze for a second, but didn't deny it.

I smiled, set down my mouse, leaned back in my chair, and studied him carefully.

Ten years had left their mark on him. The boy in the faded plaid shirt with those bright, starry eyes was gone. Now he was a mature, strategic business elite with a commanding presence.

But so what?

"Alex," I said, "do you remember that winter in our sophomore year? Your project was about to collapse, and you were holed up in your apartment, afraid to face the world.

"I was the one who ran over and paid your rent for you."

His brow furrowed slightly.

"And do you remember your first investor meeting? You were so nervous you couldn't even speak.

"I stood outside for three hours, waiting for you to come out, then took you out for drinks and listened to you vent about how that investor didn't understand your vision?"

His lips pressed into a thin line.

"And do you remember that year when the company was at its lowest, when you couldn't even make payroll? I took my wedding fund, the money my mom had saved for my big day, and used it to keep things afloat for you."

Em, he interrupted, "I've already calculated all of that. With compound interest, every single dollar has been returned to you."