Chapter 2

Chase gave a distracted "yeah," not really paying attention. Then he raised his hand for the waiter and pointed at me. "Give that lady a cup of your signature pour-over, on me."

Turning back to Isabelle, his tone was flat. "You seem pretty into bikes lately. Even dropping Fog Alley's songs into conversation now."

Isabelle's face faltered for a moment, but she forced a smile. "I did some homework. I wanted to understand your world more."

"Oh, really?" Chase leaned back, his eyes shifting between me and Isabelle, a cold smirk tugging at his lips. "So understanding my world means copying her texting style, her emoji habits, even down to the crying kitten emoji she uses when she's sick?"

Isabelle's face went ghostly pale.

Chase didn't even spare her another glance. He turned to me, his eyes a storm of emotions: scrutiny, confusion, and a hint of anger at being played for a fool. "Riley, had your fun yet? You really set me up with this parrot?"

"Chase, what do you mean by that?" Isabelle shot to her feet.

"What I mean," Chase said, finally meeting her gaze, his tone cold as ice, "is that by day three, I knew I wasn't talking to the real you. The necklace? It's a fake, worth maybe three hundred bucks at best."

He casually pulled out some cash and tossed it onto the table. "Coffee's on me. You can go now."

Isabelle stood frozen, her whole body shaking with humiliation. She shot me a furious glare, snatched up her bag, and stormed out.

The glass door swung open and shut behind her, and the café fell silent. Chase got up, walked over, and sat down across from me.

"Why?" Chase stared at me, no longer the carefree racer. There was a stubborn, almost defiant look in his eyes. "Is it just because I didn't get back to you about the money fast enough? Didn't I check in with you later?"

I stirred the pour-over he'd ordered, the rich aroma filling the air. "Chase, that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?" he pressed.

"The point is," I said, setting down my spoon and looking up at him, "it's not fun anymore. So, that's it."

Chase turned out to be way more relentless than I ever expected. He wasn't the lazy ladies' man I remembered. Now he was blowing up my phone with texts and calls every day, even waiting outside my dorm.

His words shifted from demanding to defensive, and finally, he was almost pleading. He said his family's business was falling apart, that he was overwhelmed and never meant to ignore me.

He claimed he was sick of the crowd of girls who only cared about his money and looks, and that I was different.

He even admitted that during the past six months we'd lost touch, he found himself thinking about me more often than he'd like to admit.

Annoyance wrapped around me like stubborn vines. I blocked his number, so he just got a new one. Blocked him on WhatsApp, and he'd tag me in group chats. If he tried to ambush me downstairs, I'd take a detour.

With all that stress piling up, I scrolled through my contacts and tapped on a name that hadn't seen the light of day in forever, Ethan Carter.

Ethan was the classic "golden boy": finance major, straight-A student, a resume that sparkled, interned at some big-name firms, and always so gentle and polite that parents would kill to have him as their son-in-law.

We met at a campus lecture, he grabbed me a seat, and after that, then we naturally kept in touch.

He'd remind me about the weather, drop comments like "Remember to rest" whenever I posted about working late, and sometimes send me some deep-dive articles.

I used to think he was a top-tier guy, until one day I randomly saw him at another campus library, using that same gentle, patient voice to explain a case study to another girl. Their legs were practically touching under the table.

Later, I found out his phone was full of "freshmen" and "partners", probably a dozen or so. He was a total player, warming up to everyone, not just me.

I got over him pretty quick, but never made a fuss. Having a backup like him was still useful sometimes, like when my family started pushing me to get married.

We kept it at the level of liking each other's posts, and only occasionally, very occasionally, would we chat about random stuff.

With Chase's nonstop chasing getting out of hand, Ethan came to mind. Maybe it was finally time to cut things off for good.

I sent Chase one last message: "Chase, let's part ways peacefully. Your world's big enough without me. Don't come looking for me anymore." Then I buried every single one of his contacts deep in my block list.

I barely got two days of peace before Isabelle stormed into the dorm, kicking the door open in a rage. Her eyes were red, and she yanked the necklace off her neck, slamming it down on my desk.

"Riley, you played me, this is a fake! I had it appraised, and it's not even worth 1 thousand dollars." Her voice was shrill, on the verge of tears.

She added, "Give me my money back, 33 thousand dollars, right now. Or I'll make your life hell on campus!"

I glanced up at the necklace. It was still sparkling, but suddenly looking cheap and tacky. I didn't feel a thing.

Never expected Chase would show up in person to expose everything, and use a fake necklace to knock Isabelle off her pedestal after she'd been riding high. Can't blame her for being furious.

"The money's already spent," I said, calm as ever.

"You!" Isabelle sputtered, her face turning red with rage.