Chapter 1

"Let's break up," Andrew said.

He slid a black card across the table to Sophia, his tone flat but carrying an arrogance that brooked no argument.

"There's five million dollars on this card. The PIN is your birthday. Think of it as compensation for the three years you spent with me," Andrew said.

He lounged back in the leather sofa of the upscale restaurant, looking lazy and indifferent, as if he were just dismissing some insignificant employee.

People around them cast furtive glances, trying not to be too obvious.

Everyone knew Sophia was Andrew's canary, kept by his side for three years.

She was beautiful and obedient—pretty much perfect, except her family wasn't anything special.

But for a family like the Campbells, that was the deal breaker.

Sophia fixed her gaze on the card, unmoving, refusing to reach for it.

Her slender, fair fingers rested lightly on the edge of the table, nails perfectly rounded and clean—an air of quiet elegance about her.

Three years.

She'd given this man the best three years of her life.

And in the end, all she got was a single word: "compensation."

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, a prickling ache spreading densely through her chest.

She kept her face blank, showing no emotion at all.

"Why?" Sophia asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her tone was dead calm—so flat and lifeless, it was like a stagnant pool.

Andrew's brow furrowed ever so slightly, a barely noticeable shift in his expression.

He didn't like how calm she was.

In his mind, she should be crying, making a scene, grabbing his leg and begging him not to go.

But instead, she just sat there, calm and distant, like a stranger.

"Liv's back."

He uttered the name, and for the first time, a ripple of emotion crossed his usually cold tone.

Olivia—his childhood friend, his unreachable dream girl, and the only woman the Campbells ever considered worthy to be their future daughter-in-law.

It clicked for Sophia.

His dream girl was back, so the stand-in—her—had to step aside.

What a classic, melodramatic plot.

She couldn't help but find it a little funny.

"Fine," Sophia replied.

Just that single word slipped past her lips, so soft it was almost lost in the air.

Andrew was completely stunned.

All the excuses he'd lined up just got stuck in his throat.

'She just... agreed?' he thought, totally in disbelief.

Sophia stood up, not even bothering to look at the black card again.

"Hope you two enjoy your happy ending," she said, her voice cool and steady.

With that, she turned and walked away, back straight, not looking back—not a hint of regret.

Andrew watched her walk away, a sudden, inexplicable irritation bubbling up inside him.

He snatched the card from the table and rushed after her, catching her wrist right as she reached the restaurant doors.

"Sophia, what do you mean by this?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

His grip was so strong her wrist throbbed with pain.

"Don't try to pull that push-and-pull act. You're taking the money, whether you like it or not," Andrew said, his tone brooking no argument.

He assumed she was just playing another game to get him to notice her.

Sophia couldn't believe how absurd this was.

She jerked her hand away, her gaze icy cold.

"Mr. Campbells, we're over. Keep your money—I don't need it," she said, her voice cold and unwavering.

With that, she turned, flagged down a cab, and left without a second glance.

Andrew stood there, watching the cab vanish into the distance, his face so grim it seemed to cast a shadow over everything.

One of his buddies came over and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Don't sweat it, man. She's just a girl—lose one, there's plenty more out there," the friend said, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah, she's just playing hard to get. Give it three days, she'll come crawling back, begging for another chance," another chimed in.

Andrew didn't say a word, but deep down, he was thinking the same thing.

He was the one who made Sophia's life what it was.

Everything she ate, wore, or used was the best money could buy, all because of him.

Without him footing the bill, she wouldn't make it a month.

Andrew scoffed inwardly, 'Let's see how long she can keep pretending she doesn't need me.'

But three days passed.

Sophia never came back.

A week went by.

Sophia still hadn't come back.

Andrew couldn't sit still anymore.

He sent someone to investigate, and the news he got nearly made him crush the wine glass in his hand.

Sophia was not down and out; instead, she was living more freely and glamorously than before.

She moved out of the apartment he'd bought her and checked into a luxury suite at the city's top hotel, where just one night cost as much as an average office worker's annual salary.

She no longer wore the simple, understated dresses he bought, stepping out in vibrant, high-fashion couture gowns.

But the biggest change? She wasn't alone anymore—there was a new man in her life.

The photos showed a guy who looked like he stepped right out of a magazine—tall, handsome, and oozing that elite vibe. He was opening the car door for Sophia, acting like a total gentleman.

And the car? It was one of those ultra-rare Bugatti Veyrons you only ever see in movies.

Andrew recognized it at a glance.

"Who is this guy?" Andrew's voice was icy, every word sharp as a blade.

His assistant stammered, "H-He's the heir to Foster Enterprises, James Foster."

James Foster?' Andrew stared, stunned. That name hit him like a punch.

Andrew knew that name all too well.