Chapter 3 · He Weighed Love for Wealth

Chapter 3

The morning sun filtered through my blinds as I stared at my phone, Sarah's name glowing on the screen. My finger hovered over the call button. After last night's confrontation with Tyler, the promotion to Seattle headquarters felt like more than just a career move—it was an escape route.

I pressed call.

"Kimberly!" Sarah's voice came through clear and energetic. "I was just about to call you. The committee was extremely impressed with your presentation yesterday."

I sat up straighter, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Thank you, Sarah. Actually, I'm calling about the Seattle position."

"Perfect timing," she said. "HR needs your decision by end of day. The position starts in three weeks."

Three weeks. Just enough time to pack up my life here—my apartment, my memories, my eight-year relationship reduced to ashes.

"I'll take it," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "When do I need to be there?"

Sarah's excitement bubbled through the phone. "I'm so glad to hear that! HR will send over the paperwork this afternoon. You'll need to be in Seattle by the 15th for orientation."

After hanging up, I walked to the window, looking out at the city that had been my home for eight years. Tyler had stayed at his parents' house last night—I'd seen the text from his mother confirming he'd arrived safely. The thought of him sleeping peacefully while I'd barely closed my eyes made my stomach clench.

---

Across town, Tyler was hunched over his laptop in his childhood bedroom, his expression intense as he scrolled through Waverly Allen's social media profiles.

"Perfect," he murmured, jotting down notes in a small leather-bound notebook. "Equinox Gym on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 6:30 AM. Starbucks on 4th Avenue after workouts."

He created a new folder on his desktop labeled "WA Strategy" and meticulously organized his findings: her favorite restaurants (Italian and French), her preferred wine (Cabernet Sauvignon), her volunteer work (animal shelter on Saturdays), even her favorite type of music (classical during work hours, indie folk on weekends).

Tyler's phone buzzed with a text from his mother: "How are you handling things with Kimberly?"

He typed back: "Fine. Moving on."

His mother's response came quickly: "Good. Your father and I always thought she wasn't right for you."

Tyler set his phone aside and returned to his research. For the next hour, he crafted a new dating profile, carefully selecting photos that showed him in his best light—at a charity gala, hiking in the mountains, smiling confidently at the camera. He added details about his job that subtly inflated his responsibilities and salary.

By noon, he'd mapped out a strategy for "accidentally" running into Waverly at her favorite coffee shop the following day.

---

"He seems nice enough," Waverly said to herself as she scrolled through Tyler's dating profile later that evening. She'd matched with him on the app he'd been using—the same one he'd mentioned in his livestream about her.

She tapped on his profile picture, enlarging it. He was attractive in that corporate, polished way—expensive watch, perfectly styled hair, confident smile. His bio mentioned he was looking for "someone who understands the importance of building a life together based on mutual respect and shared values."

Waverly's phone chimed with a message notification. Tyler had sent her a coffee invitation for tomorrow morning.

---

"I'd love to hear more about your family's business ventures," Tyler said, leaning forward slightly as he stirred his latte. "The Allen Group has quite the reputation in real estate development."

Waverly smiled politely, taking a sip of her espresso. "What exactly would you like to know?"

Tyler had positioned himself perfectly—casually dressed in expensive clothes that suggested success without trying too hard, his expression open and interested.

"I'm fascinated by how families build and maintain wealth across generations," he said smoothly. "It's something I've always aspired to."

"And what about your previous relationships?" Waverly asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Your profile mentioned you're recently single."

Tyler's expression shifted to one of practiced regret. "Yes, I ended a relationship recently. Eight years, actually."

Waverly raised an eyebrow. "That's a long time."

"It was comfortable," Tyler said carefully. "But there wasn't much passion left. Sometimes you realize you've grown apart, but neither of you wants to admit it."

He watched Waverly's face, calculating her reaction. She nodded sympathetically, but her eyes remained guarded.

"And your financial portfolio?" she asked suddenly. "You mentioned investment strategies in your message."

Tyler smiled, sensing he was on the right track. "I believe in diversification," he began, launching into a carefully rehearsed explanation of his fictional financial success.

As he spoke, Waverly's phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced down at the screen, her expression changing almost imperceptibly as she read the message.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up. "I need to take this call."

Tyler nodded, watching as she walked away, wondering what had just shifted in her demeanor—and whether his carefully constructed plan was still on track.

Chapter 3

I pressed call.

"Kimberly!" Sarah's voice came through clear and energetic. "I was just about to call you. The committee was extremely impressed with your presentation yesterday."

I sat up straighter, running a hand through my tangled hair. "Thank you, Sarah. Actually, I'm calling about the Seattle position."

"Perfect timing," she said. "HR needs your decision by end of day. The position starts in three weeks."

Three weeks. Just enough time to pack up my life here—my apartment, my memories, my eight-year relationship reduced to ashes.

"I'll take it," I said, surprising myself with how steady my voice sounded. "When do I need to be there?"

Sarah's excitement bubbled through the phone. "I'm so glad to hear that! HR will send over the paperwork this afternoon. You'll need to be in Seattle by the 15th for orientation."

---

Across town, Tyler was hunched over his laptop in his childhood bedroom, his expression intense as he scrolled through Waverly Allen's social media profiles.

"Perfect," he murmured, jotting down notes in a small leather-bound notebook. "Equinox Gym on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at 6:30 AM. Starbucks on 4th Avenue after workouts."

Tyler's phone buzzed with a text from his mother: "How are you handling things with Kimberly?"

He typed back: "Fine. Moving on."

His mother's response came quickly: "Good. Your father and I always thought she wasn't right for you."

By noon, he'd mapped out a strategy for "accidentally" running into Waverly at her favorite coffee shop the following day.

---

Waverly's phone chimed with a message notification. Tyler had sent her a coffee invitation for tomorrow morning.

---

"I'd love to hear more about your family's business ventures," Tyler said, leaning forward slightly as he stirred his latte. "The Allen Group has quite the reputation in real estate development."

Waverly smiled politely, taking a sip of her espresso. "What exactly would you like to know?"

Tyler had positioned himself perfectly—casually dressed in expensive clothes that suggested success without trying too hard, his expression open and interested.

"I'm fascinated by how families build and maintain wealth across generations," he said smoothly. "It's something I've always aspired to."

"And what about your previous relationships?" Waverly asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "Your profile mentioned you're recently single."

Tyler's expression shifted to one of practiced regret. "Yes, I ended a relationship recently. Eight years, actually."

Waverly raised an eyebrow. "That's a long time."

"It was comfortable," Tyler said carefully. "But there wasn't much passion left. Sometimes you realize you've grown apart, but neither of you wants to admit it."

He watched Waverly's face, calculating her reaction. She nodded sympathetically, but her eyes remained guarded.

"And your financial portfolio?" she asked suddenly. "You mentioned investment strategies in your message."

Tyler smiled, sensing he was on the right track. "I believe in diversification," he began, launching into a carefully rehearsed explanation of his fictional financial success.

As he spoke, Waverly's phone buzzed with a notification. She glanced down at the screen, her expression changing almost imperceptibly as she read the message.

"Excuse me," she said, standing up. "I need to take this call."

Tyler nodded, watching as she walked away, wondering what had just shifted in her demeanor—and whether his carefully constructed plan was still on track.