Chapter 2

"Have you lost your goddamn mind? Are you seriously only planning to pay your own share?" My childhood friend Jace Lloyd's voice practically roared through my receiver.

I held my phone slightly away from my ear before answering calmly, "Yep. I've already transferred 75 thousand dollars to the designated account."

"Oliver Newman, that's Selena, your girlfriend of three years!"

"And your point is? It's precisely because we are partners that it's even more vital to adhere to the rules we established together. I'm respecting our three-year relationship."

There was a prolonged silence on the other end of the line before Jace muttered, "You're seriously messed up!"

I hung up the phone, completely unfazed.

My relationship with Selena began with a precise calculation. Three years ago, at an alumni investment summit, she was volunteering for the project roadshows. As a guest speaker, I needed a data analysis report forecasting the new energy market over the next three years.

I offered five thousand dollars, and she was the only person who delivered a model accurate to four decimal places within half an hour. After the event, I wired her the money.

Yet, she refunded half of it. "I only used half the allotted time for the report, and parts of the data relied on open-source models. Factoring in my time and intellectual costs, 2,500 dollars is a fair price."

At that moment, it felt as though I had found a kindred spirit. In a world full of erratic emotions and meaningless social interactions, she stood out like a precision instrument—calm, efficient, and logically self-consistent. Naturally, we gravitated toward each other.

On our very first day together, we co-developed an app named SplitMate. From a single dinner or a cup of coffee to rent and utilities, every joint expense was logged into the system. At the end of each month, the app automatically generated a statement, splitting everything 50-50, down to the exact penny.

I took immense pride in this flawless system. It eliminated all the messy financial entanglements from our romance, allowing our relationship to exist purely on a plane of intellectual resonance.

For three years, this system had operated without a single hitch. However, everything changed that day.

My phone vibrated yet again. It was an unknown number.

I answered, and a polite male voice came through. "Hello, am I speaking with Mr. Newman? I'm a lawyer with Novis Counselor. You may call me Mr. Smith."

"Can I help you?"

"Regarding the kidnapping case of Ms. Jenkins, we have, at her family's request, paid the kidnappers' demand of 35,550 dollars. Ms. Jenkins is currently safe and unharmed."

I nodded. "I see."

A massive weight lifted off my chest, but it was immediately replaced by a sliver of confusion. Selena's family? I had never once heard her bring them up.

The man on the other end seemed slightly taken aback by my indifferent reaction. He paused for a beat before continuing, "Furthermore, Ms. Jenkins' family has asked me to relay a message to you."

"Go ahead."

"They would like to thank you for 'taking care' of Ms. Jenkins over the past three years. From the moment this payment is settled, all joint accounts between you two will be officially frozen, including the app you developed together."

The attorney's next words caught me completely off guard.

"We will also be filing a commercial lawsuit against you shortly. This concerns your misappropriation and infringement of multiple proprietary financial models developed by Ms. Jenkins, which you incorporated into your personal, profit-generating project under the name 'SplitMate'. This is the other 'tuition fee' she is settling with you."

I froze in place, my breath hitching in my throat. Misappropriation? Infringement?

Within our bookkeeping application, each model and every iteration was explicitly logged as a "joint development." According to our agreement, ownership was shared, and profits were split equally. How on earth could this be considered theft?