Chapter 1
Steven Hawke, a guy I hadn't talked to since elementary school, suddenly sent me a link.
Steven: [Cosima, you've got a killer body. If I'd known back then, I would've made a move on you.]
I frowned as I opened the link, rage boiling inside me.
The post was titled: [Passing by? Rate this so-called innocent girl from a matchmaking event.]
The picture was of me jogging in the park last week, snapped without my knowledge.
The shot was taken from below, deliberately focused on my neckline.
The photo had been edited to look even more provocative and blurry in the dim lighting.
The caption was even nastier.
[Pretends to be all sweet and innocent at the matchmaking, but who knows how wild she really is in private.]
[She turned me down because I'm not loaded. Bet she's hanging around, waiting for some rich guy to pick her up.]
What really sent chills down my spine was the scores. Twenty thousand people gave me a 10, fifty thousand a 7, and there were hundreds of nasty 1s.
The comments section was already flooded with nasty remarks:
[7/10! I could go wild with those legs for a whole year.]
[You can tell she's a veteran. Running dressed like that? She's just showing off for guys.]
[Don't keep it to yourself, name your price. The men will queue up.]
My whole body went cold. I suddenly thought of the blind date man I had turned down.
The last message he sent before I blocked him was: [Just you wait. You'll be sorry.]
But what he didn't know was that next week, during a live-streamed interview, I'd be the one sitting on the panel, ready to judge him.
*****
Suddenly, I was thrown back to the third day of the New Year, a month ago.
The house was packed with relatives, and my mom dragged me out of my room, shoving me right into the middle of the living room.
She said, "Cosima, come here. This is Simon Harris, the son of your dad's old buddy.
"He runs his own company now, making big bucks. Young and successful."
Simon, the man sitting on the couch, stood up politely.
He looked to be in his early thirties, with wire-rimmed glasses, a slim build, and a gentle smile.
"Hi, Ms. Spielberg," he said, reaching out his hand.
"I've heard a lot about you from your mom. Nice to finally meet you."
I nodded, introduced myself briefly, and shook his hand.
At the dinner table, he naturally became the center of attention.
"So, Simon, what are you up to these days?" my aunt asked.
"I run a little business, mainly in the area of self-media operations," Simon replied.
"Self-media is awesome! That's what young folks do to make money now," my aunt said.
My dad, a bit tipsy and face flushed, laughed, "Way better than us back in the day."
Simon jumped in at the right moment. "You're too kind. Honestly, the real economy is the backbone of everything. People like you, who build things from the ground up, are the pillars of society."
His words had my dad beaming from ear to ear.
Simon kept the conversation going, talking about everything from the big picture of the economy to the latest trends in his industry. He used all the right terms and threw out stats like it was nothing.
Now and then, he'd drop in some juicy gossip about big names in the business, and my relatives would be all ears, totally blown away.
Simon suddenly turned to me, smiling.
"My company's planning to go public next year, but we're still missing a lady boss," he said.
All eyes in the room locked onto me, with all sorts of expectations and not-so-subtle hints, and everyone started chattering away.
"With Simon's credentials, girls are lining up for him. Don't be too choosy."
"If you have kids while you're young, your body will recover much faster."
I set down my fork, let out a slow breath.
I said, "We've only just met. Isn't it a little soon to be talking about this?
"Plus, I'm swamped with work right now. Marriage isn't something I'm considering."
The lively vibe at the table suddenly froze.
Simon held up a few fingers, showing off how confident he was.
"When fate shows up, one can't fight it. I've got several apartments downtown, and I'm ready to put up this much as a wedding gift," he said.
After a few seconds of awkward silence, my relatives suddenly burst out with even louder praise.
"See? This guy's the real deal."
"He's got everything ready. What's there to complain about?"
Upon seeing him so pushy about marriage with someone he barely knew, I let out a quiet sigh.
I stared right into Simon's eyes, feeling a bit speechless.
I said, "Sorry, I'm going to be upfront. I'm saying no.
"I'm not looking to get married right now, but I'm open to being friends."
The living room went dead silent. Nobody dared to say a word.
Simon gave his glasses a sheepish push and kept quiet.
The rest of the meal was painfully awkward and tense.
After dinner, Simon asked for my contact info, but I declined politely as well.
But I never imagined that from that night on, Simon wouldn't stop pestering me.
First, he somehow got my phone number and started bombarding me with cheesy, greasy love messages every single day.
Simon: [No matter how loud the fireworks are on New Year's Eve, they can't even compare to how loudly I'm missing you.]
Simon: [Don't ask how old your man is. He loves you so much it breaks his heart.]
I just ignored every single one of them.
Then, one night in early March, he called me from an unknown number, his voice slurred with booze.