Chapter 1
I used to be the most famous pianist in the country, head over heels in love with Alexandra Snow, Manhattan’s golden girl.
Then she blacklisted me, and I ended up delivering food for a living.
❦
New York City. An outdoor TV shoot in Central Park.
I’d just picked up an order for two hundred cups of coffee, wearing my delivery guy uniform, hopping off my e-bike, ready to drop them off.
And there, surrounded by fans, was Liam York—alongside my wife, Alexandra Snow.
She’d once told me, “Zachary, you’re the most talented pianist I’ve ever met. Go out there and conquer the world. I’ve got your back.”
Now, her eyes were only on Liam.
The fans’ excited shrieks cut through the air—
“Mr. York, you and Ms. Snow are such a power couple! Made for each other!”
“When are you guys gonna make it official on Instagram? We wanna start planning a wedding gift registry for you!”
Liam leaned in toward Alex on purpose, wearing his perfect smile. “Thanks, everyone, for the love.”
Alex was wearing a silk floral evening gown—cold, elegant, untouchable. Manhattan royalty, just like always.
Bitterness crept up my throat. None of these fans knew I was the guy she’d been secretly married to for three years.
Then his gaze swung over and landed on me.
“Hey, the coffee I ordered for you guys is here. What’s taking the delivery guy so long?”
I lugged the heavy coffee crates over to Liam, only to hear him gasp in mock surprise. “Oh my God—Zach? Buddy, is that you? You’re delivering coffee now?”
So that’s why he’d ordered it. Just to humiliate me.
Three years ago, I was the hottest pianist in the country. Liam was my junior at Juilliard.
He had this habit of ripping off other people’s scores, so I couldn’t stand him.
But tables turn. Alex had turned Liam into a top-tier pop star.
The kicker? Half the songs that blew up for him over the past three years—she’d forced me to write the music and lyrics, then handed them to him.
The fans turned on me in a heartbeat.
“You’re that piece of trash delivery guy? The one who spread rumors about Liam plagiarizing?”
“You’re showing up here again—what kind of sick scheme are you pulling this time?”
“Protect Liam! Get Zach out of here!”
Bang! Bang—
A power bank smacked me right in the forehead.
I tried to save the coffee, but my head was spinning, and I couldn’t hold on. I hit the ground, and the coffee went all over Liam.
I heard the click of a hundred phone cameras—Liam’s fans, getting it all on video.
Blood dripped down to the side of my nose. The copper smell hit my nerves. I scrambled to my feet, pathetic.
I still had deliveries to make. I still had a debt to pay off.
But I looked up, and Alex was fussing over Liam. “Did any of it get on your clothes?”
She didn’t even glance at me.
The bitterness in my chest kept spreading. Yeah. She was still hate-reading me for what happened three years ago.
Liam shot me a smug little look, then put on a sad face for the cameras. “Come on, guys, don’t be too hard on him. Zach’s already paying the price for what he did.”
“It’s just a shame about the coffee I got everyone, you know? Zach, what’re you gonna do about that?”
The fans were foaming at the mouth. Alex was watching me coldly. Liam’s whole circus act was clearly being greenlit by her.
I pressed my hand against the bleeding on my forehead and immediately dropped my head, apologizing like a dog.
“I’m sorry. I’ll pay for this order.”
Paying for it would wipe out the whole day’s pay.
But I knew damn well—if I didn’t apologize, if Liam wasn’t satisfied, something worse was coming for me.
That evening, I dragged my exhausted body to my front door. The second I got it open, heavy footsteps came pounding down the stairwell.
I turned around. One of the debt collectors kicked me straight into the corner.
“Zach, how much you make today delivering food, huh?”
They leered at me, grabbed me by the collar, and slapped me across the face.
“When are you paying back the $30 million?”
Fists rained down on me. I curled into myself, hands over my head the way I always did. Blood started seeping from the corner of my mouth. The cut on my forehead opened up again.
It hurt.
They worked me over for an hour before finally letting up. One of them sneered, “Ms. Snow told us to check in on the regular. Don’t blame us, bro.”
Then they left. I slumped in the corner, my whole body falling apart, unable to get up.
Three years ago, I was the reason Alex lost the use of her leg. After that, she blacklisted me, killed every deal I had, and stuck me with the brand contract penalties.
These debt collectors were her doing. On paper, it was her—my wife—helping the brands collect what I owed. In reality, it was just her using them to grind me down.
Blood dripped down my cheek. I braced myself, tried to get up, but my hands were shaking too hard from the pain.
“Zach!”
A voice behind me, half-sobbing. The next second, my little sister Mia threw herself at me, holding on tight. “Zach, are you okay? Was it those debt collector thugs again? Should I call the cops?”
I gave her a bitter smile. Wasn’t the first time.
Those thugs had left in such a hurry—probably racing off to report back to Alex and collect their bonus.
Mia helped me up. My nose was bleeding. Sparks were still going off in front of my eyes.
But I didn’t want her worrying, so I toughed it out. “It’s fine. Let’s just go inside and rest for a sec.”
But then, the cops showed up at our door. “Zachary White, resident of apartment 301? You’re under arrest for the alleged assault of singer Liam York.”
