ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3: ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ, ᴅɪᴏʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ᴅᴜsᴛʏ ғɪᴀɴᴄé

Deja was huffing and puffing by the time she reached the restaurant, bent over with her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath. The sun beat down on her neck as she glanced up at the sleek building in front of her. "A rich girl like me RUNNING?!" she exclaimed to the empty sidewalk. "This is ridiculous!"

Deja fanned herself with one hand dramatically. "This some real backwards mess right here." She glanced around, making sure nobody was listening. The restaurant was exactly what she expected – all glass and gleaming surfaces, with a name written in some fancy script that practically screamed "You can't afford this." Valet attendants in crisp uniforms stood ready to park cars that cost more than houses.

Deja smoothed down her outfit and fluffed her hair. "Alright, showtime," she whispered to herself. As she pushed through the heavy glass doors, the cool air conditioning hit her like a blessing. According to the timeline, me and Ren still engaged, she thought as the hostess greeted her with a practiced smile. I need to speed up breaking off this engagement so he can hurry up and hate me, run to Dominique, and I'll be free from his dusty behind.

The hostess led her through the restaurant, past tables of people who looked like they were born knowing which fork to use first. This is actually a great plan, Deja continued thinking as she followed the hostess. Ren is CEO of that major tech company...what was it called again? Oh yeah, NexTech Solutions. Loaded, handsome, and about to be somebody else's problem.

As she scanned the elegant space with its crystal chandeliers and white tablecloths, her eyes landed on a table near the center of the room.

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me," she muttered under her breath.

There sat not just Ren, but also Dominique and Trevor. Deja blinked rapidly, her mind racing.

How on earth did they get here so fast? she thought, bewildered. Then realization struck her. Oh wait, I'm in a story. This is the next scene. Of COURSE they teleported here before me. Book logic.

As she approached the table, Deja finally got a good look at Ren as he stood to greet her. She nearly stumbled in her heels. Ren was not just tall and handsome, he was the kind of tall and handsome that made people whisper when he walked by. His dark hair was slicked back, showcasing high cheekbones that could cut glass, and his eyes—oh those eyes—were deep and mysterious, like the ocean at midnight. He wore a tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered waist, looking like a romance novel hero plucked from the pages and placed into the real world.

DAMN. He looks like a K-POP STAR! Deja thought, her inner voice practically screaming. I ain't gonna lie, HE IS FINE. Fine like art museum fine. Nobody said he was THIS fine in the book!

Ren's eyebrows shot up suddenly, his expression shifting from annoyance to confusion. "What was that?" he asked, looking directly at her.

Deja froze mid-step. "What was what? I ain't say nothing!"

Her eyes flickered up, noticing the glowing number above his head: 20% likeness towards Deja, 80% towards Dominique. Classic, she thought with a mental eye roll.

At least it's low. So I just need to repel him even more! she thought triumphantly. In the book, Deja ran up to Ren all apologetic and desperate, begging for forgiveness for being late. But I ain't about to do all that. I'm on villain time now.

Ren's eyes widened slightly, his gaze intensifying as he studied her face. "You're late," he stated coldly.

Before Deja could respond, Dominique jumped to her feet, her face the perfect picture of sweet concern. "Brother Ren, please don't be angry at my cousin," she said, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness. "I'm sure she has a very good reason." Deja rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her skull.

Look at this fake Hallmark movie extra. 'Brother Ren'? Girl, please. You sound like you auditioning for a discount Disney princess role.

Both Trevor and Ren turned to look at her sharply. "What?" Deja asked defensively, placing a hand on her hip. "Y'all staring at me like I got two heads."

She turned to Dominique with an exaggerated smile. "So, what exactly are you and Trevor doing here? Last I checked, this was supposed to be between me and my fiancé."

Dominique clasped her hands together, batting her eyelashes. "I and cousin Trevor came here for lunch and we just happened to see Mr. Zuo and decided to join him as he waited for you."

"How thoughtful," Deja drawled sarcastically. "But he's a big boy. Pretty sure he knows how to wait for a lady without needing babysitters."

The shock on their faces was worth every word. Trevor nearly choked on his water. Dominique's smile faltered for a split second before she recovered, and Ren... Ren just looked at her. His eyes searched hers, as if looking for something that wasn't quite there. But she didn't care. She was the villain now, and she had twenty million reasons to play the part.

"Let's sit," Deja announced, dropping into her chair without waiting for anyone to pull it out for her. She grabbed the menu and flipped it open dramatically. "I'm starving. Running across town works up an appetite."

"Running?" Trevor repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Why were you running?"

"Because somebody," Deja shot a pointed look at Ren, "doesn't believe in sending a car for his fiancée. Very ungentlemanly if you ask me."

"Why would I give you a car?" Ren replied, his voice as cold. "You have your own perfectly good legs, Deja."

Deja scoffed and just as she was about to respond the waiter arrived, saving Ren from her sharp tongue. Deja immediately switched into full charm mode, batting her eyelashes and flashing her brightest smile.

"Well hello there, handsome," she purred at the waiter, watching him blush, "What do you recommend for a girl who's absolutely starving?"

Trevor, Dominque and Ren exchanged awkward glances. The waiter, caught off guard by her forwardness, stammered through his recommendations.

"I'll take the lobster, the wagyu steak—medium rare—truffle mac and cheese, and ooh, that fancy champagne. The expensive one," Deja declared, snapping the menu shut. She pointed at Ren with a dazzling smile. "And put it on his tab."

"Deja," Trevor hissed, leaning across the table. "That's nearly $300 worth of food!"

"Is it?" Deja asked innocently. "Good thing my fiancé is loaded, right babe?" She winked at Ren, who was glaring at her like she'd just suggested they rob a bank.

Dominique reached across the table, placing her hand on Deja's arm with faux concern. "Cousin, are you feeling alright? You seem... different today. I'm worried about you."

And here comes the fake concern in 3...2...1... Next she's gonna say something about how I should take care of myself because everyone loves me SO much.

"We all care about you so much," Dominique continued right on cue, her voice soft and concerned. "You should take better care of yourself."

"Aww, that's sweet," Deja replied with a saccharine smile. "But I'm just fine, cousin. Never been better."

Ren and Trevor exchanged a look that Deja couldn't quite decipher—it was a mix of annoyance and something else...was that intrigue? She smirked to herself, knowing she was playing the villain perfectly. But she had to admit, it was kind of fun being so...so un-Deja-like.

"So, Mr. Waiter," Deja continued, completely ignoring protocol, "you come here often? Oh wait, you work here. Silly me!" She let out an exaggerated laugh, touching the waiter's arm. "But seriously, those arms look like you hit the gym. What's your workout routine like?"

"I, uh—" the waiter started, clearly uncomfortable.

"Deja!" Trevor snapped. "Your behaviour is unbecoming of a Moreau!"

"Is it?" Deja asked, feigning confusion. "I'm just being friendly. Making conversation. That's what sophisticated people do, right?"

Trevor's face contorted with confusion. "What happened to you? Didn't you use to—" He stopped abruptly, glancing at Ren.

Didn't I use to be obsessed with Ren? Head over heels? Ready to lick the bottom of his designer shoes? Yeah, that was the OLD Deja. This Deja is about that $20 million life.

Trevor nearly spat out his water, and Ren's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And what do you mean, 'unbecoming of a Moreau'?" Deja's voice was like a whip crack, slicing through the tension. "Is there a manual for that? 'Cause last I checked, we ain't royalty."

Deja continued her performance throughout the appetizers, slurping her soup loudly, using the wrong utensils intentionally, and making outrageous comments about the other diners. All the while, she mentally celebrated each disapproving look from Ren.

Yes! He's gonna HATE me! Break off this engagement! And I'll be twenty million dollars closer to freedom!

Suddenly, Ren placed his napkin on the table and stood. "Deja, I wish to speak with you privately."

"Whatever you say, fiancé dearest," she said with exaggerated sweetness, but her thoughts were all business. Gotta stay focused on that $20 million. Just need to push him a little further.

Deja followed Ren outside onto the restaurant's balcony, the cool breeze a welcome relief from the stuffy air inside. She leaned against the railing, looking out at the cityscape, her heart racing with excitement. Ren's eyes bore into her, his gaze unnervingly intense.

Deja shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Why is he looking at me like that? Like I'm a science experiment gone wrong.

Still nothing but silence from him. Just that unwavering stare. WAIT! Maybe he wants to break off the engagement! YES! This is it! Her excitement built internally. C'mon, baby. Say the words. 'It's not you, it's me.' 'We're not compatible.' Whatever gets me free!

Ren continued staring, his expression unreadable.

Why is he STILL staring at me and not breaking off the engagement? Deja thought impatiently. He better hurry up before he gets a call that his mother collapsed.

Ren's eyes widened suddenly. "What did you say?" he demanded, voice sharp.

"Nothing," Deja replied, genuinely confused. "I ain't say a word."

Ren sighed deeply, rubbing his temple like he was developing a migraine. YES! HERE IT COMES! BREAK UP WITH ME, PRETTY BOY! Her inner voice was practically shouting with glee.

As if on cue, Ren's phone began ringing. He held up one finger. "Excuse me," he said coolly, pulling his phone from his pocket. "Mr Zuo speaking." His face remained stoic for a moment, then his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I understand. I'll be there shortly."

He hung up, his expression revealing nothing, but something had clearly shifted in his demeanor.

"Everything okay?" Deja asked innocently, trying not to look too hopeful.

Ren's eyes bore into hers with new intensity. "My mother has collapsed. She's been taken to the hospital."

Despite her villainous aspirations, Deja felt a flicker of genuine concern. "Oh... I'm sorry to hear that."

Ren continued studying her, thoughts clearly racing behind those inscrutable eyes. How did she know...?

"What?" Deja asked, unsettled by his scrutiny.

"I have to go," Ren stated flatly. "But tomorrow night I have a business dinner with my associates, and they would like to meet you."

Deja blinked rapidly, caught completely off guard. "What?"

"My driver will come pick you up tomorrow at 7 PM," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Dress presentable."

WHAT?! HE'S SUPPOSED TO BREAK OFF THE ENGAGEMENT... NOOOOO! Deja's inner voice wailed in frustration. This ain't how the story goes!

Ren reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black credit card, holding it out to her. "Buy a presentable dress," he instructed. "I expect you to make a good impression. The PIN is my birthday."

Deja practically snatched the card from his hand, her eyes lighting up despite herself. "MONEYYYY!" she exclaimed, then caught herself. She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. "I mean... when is your birthday again?"

Ren's eyebrow quirked upward. "You don't know my birthday?"

"Am I supposed to?" Deja shot back, feigning ignorance with a wicked smile. "Look, I've been busy planning our fabulous future together, darling. You know, the one where I spend your money and you pretend to love me?"

Ren's smile was as cold as the steel in his eyes. "0918," he said.

"0918," Deja repeated, mentally filing the information away. Maybe I can buy a plane ticket with this card and ghost everybody.

"Goodbye," Ren said abruptly, turning on his heel. He strode away, leaving Deja alone on the balcony with the sound of his footsteps echoing in her ears. 

Deja watched from the balcony and she saw Ren walk towards a sleek black car that had just pulled up. A uniformed driver hopped out and opened the door for him. Without another look back, Ren slid inside, and the car pulled away from the curb.