Chapter 1 The Dinner
Charlotte
OCTOBER 2, 2025
“Baby, I think we should break up.”
Those are the words my boyfriend of two years says while fiddling with his fingers on the expensive marble table of the even more expensive restaurant he chose.
“I’m sorry—what?” I blurt out, a little too loud and that makes people turn their heads to look at us and whisper. I don’t understand what it is they’re saying but they are definitely judging me and enjoying the show.
I’m sitting here in a red sleeveless ruffle dress I ordered from a thrift store because I couldn’t afford anything new. I’m broke as hell but still managed to empty what’s left of my savings to look adorable for my boyfriend.
I thought tonight would be THE night, one where he proposes to me.
I even got my hair done properly for the first time in months, thanks to my sick mom insisting I treat myself. She runs our dying coffee shop but still wanted me to look beautiful. I thought Carl would go down on one knee tonight. Turns out, he’s just kneeling on my heart instead.
“It’s just… you’re not my type of woman anymore,” Carl says casually, lifting his wine glass like we’re having a polite chat about how the world could be a better place.
I stare at him, fighting the urge to pour that wine all over his face. “It took you two years to figure that out?” My voice is calmer than it should be and that’s always my problem..I had a sharp mouth in my head but not enough courage to say it out loud.
There are so many things I want to say to him but of course I don’t. I just sit here, looking stupid and miserable.
“I thought I could make it work, you know? We’ve been through a lot together, but you know how it is.”
Before I can answer, a waiter sets down a covered plate and lifts the lid to reveal a perfectly cooked steak—just one. I can’t believe he didn’t order for me.
“Thank you,” Carl tells her, and then smiles at her like there’s a smiling competition going on. She winks and sways her hips as she leaves, and I can’t help but scoff.
Not only is my boyfriend dumping me, but he’s already collecting admirers mid-breakup.
“As I was saying,” he continues, tucking a napkin into his collar, “ever since my promotion at work, my mother and I agreed it’s time I found someone more… presentable. Someone who fits my new image and can follow me to big events.”
Am I surprised his mother had a say in this? No, not at all because she practically controls his life. Carl wasn’t perfect, sure, he did have a lot of flops in bed, but I thought I could teach him a few things on how to please me, you know? I wasn’t ready to let go of him.
“And what’s wrong with me, Carl? Why can’t I go with you to those things?” My voice trembles, and I hate that it does. “I thought we had something real.”
He cuts a piece of steak, chews, and hums like he’s savoring the flavor of my heartbreak. “You’re ugly, Charlotte.”
Am I hearing things or did he just call me ugly?
“You have the teeth of a chipmunk and your hair… It’s fried.”
A couple at the next table glances over, whispering. My hand goes up to my mouth instinctively. Sure, I have bunny teeth but I never thought they made me ugly.
“I just don’t want you anymore,” he adds with his mouth, still full. “Maybe if you fix yourself up someday, I’ll reconsider. But for now, you’re not my type anymore.”
Just as he’s speaking, my stomach growls, loudly.
He frowns. “You’re hungry? Why didn’t you order something? Don’t tell me you didn’t bring money.” His voice is loud enough for the whole restaurant to hear.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, clutching my hands under the table. Now the whole room knows I’m broke and humiliated. This isn’t how I pictured the start of October. I thought I’d be planning a Christmas wedding. Instead, I’m watching my future collapse and now I’m crying uncontrollably.
“You’re seriously crying? Because I don’t want you?” he groans. “Charlotte, don’t embarrass me.”
He leans back, folding his arms.
“I love you, and you’re breaking up with me in public. It’s only natural that I cry right now,” I say and my throat feels clumpy so I grab his wine glass and down it in one gulp, just to swallow the lump rising in my throat. He’s staring at me like I’m the one breaking up with him.
“You just put your spit on my glass. That’s disgusting.”
“Please, Carl,” I whisper, “we can fix this—”
“Do I have to spell it out? I don’t want you, Charlotte!” he shouts. “You’re no longer my type and crying won’t change that. You look disgraceful—”
A man walking by suddenly dumps his drink on Carl’s head.
“What the hell?!” Carl shouts, shooting to his feet. But before he can do anything, several men in black suits appear out of nowhere, stepping between him and the stranger.
The man who threw the drink doesn’t say a word as he stands tall behind them. He’s tall, intimidating, and I don’t need anyone to tell me that he is rich because I’ve got eyes.
The long brown coat draped on his shoulder and the designer watch he’s got on are enough to feed me for a whole year. He’s also wearing a ring on his finger, no doubt that is expensive too.
He’s got sunglasses on, at night but somehow I’m not even mad at it because he’s hot looking.
Carl, still dripping, points a shaking finger. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
The tallest guard steps forward, and his smooth-as-butter accent tells me he’s not from here. “The real question is who do you think you are, gentleman?”
Carl freezes. Even he knows these aren’t the kind of people you mess with.
The intimidating man in sunglasses walks towards me and every part of my brain is begging me not to look at him as he moves.
‘Don’t look at him, don’t look at him’ my brain warns. ‘Rich men are trouble, don’t look at him,’
But he lifts his gloved hand to tilt my chin up and my brain stops speaking as I feel his touch. For crying out loud, why’s everyone still looking this way, I’m not a TV show.
“Let me guess,” he says quietly and I start thinking of all the places he could have come from because his accent is getting me turned on. “You’re American?”
“Y-yes,” I manage to say.
His fingers graze my jaw, and my breath stutters. He’s close enough that I can smell his not-so-loud but clean perfume. Even with half his face hidden, he’s beautiful and his skin looks unreal, like he bathes in breast milk or something.
My eyes fall, because it feels like he’ll blind me with his beauty. “Look at me,” he commands, and fuck did I obey.
“Quit touching her! She’s not yours to touch!” Carl yells and one of the guards punches him square in the face. I want to help him but not when this man who looks like he wants my soul is still holding my jaw.
“You have the prettiest face,” the hot stranger says while his thumb brushes my jaw. “And your eyes… they’re extraordinary.”
His accent sounds British, maybe? I can’t exactly say.
“You… you think I’m beautiful?” I ask, surprised that someone I don’t know complimented me.
“Yes,” he answers easily. “But you are foolish just as you are beautiful.”
My smile fades. “Excuse me?”
He lets his hand drop. “You let a man like that humiliate you in front of everyone when you have a face many would kill for. That’s foolish.”
He nods to his men and one of them shoves Carl back into his seat. They walked away and just like that, they were gone.
I exhale shakily and glance at Carl. His nose is bleeding, but I don’t feel sorry for him. All I can think about is the stranger’s voice when he called me foolish.
“Those bastards ruined my meal!” Carl yells, slamming his fist on the table. People turn away, not caring about us anymore.
“I should go,” I say to him, grabbing my bag.
“Wait—where are you going? You’re not helping me with my nose? Help me out!” He grabs my wrist.
I stare at his hand on mine and I pull away. “Get your mother to do it, Carl. I hope you have a lovely rest of the year.”
I walk out of the restaurant, not looking back because he humiliated me and maybe our breakup was for the best.
