Chapter 1 : Firstly

Erica's POV

“What? You are breaking up with me?”

I stared at James, waiting for him to tell me he was joking.

“Why? What did I do to make you want to do this?” I asked, my voice shaking. “I gave you everything. I even made my parents sponsor everything about you while lying to them.”

James looked away, rubbing his forehead.

“I'm sorry, Erica. It's because of that I didn't know how to say this to you.”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I never liked you. You were the one pushing yourself on me, so I had no choice.”

For a moment, I couldn't speak.

The words kept playing in my head.

I never liked you.

I looked at the man sitting across from me. The same man I had spent months defending whenever my friends said he was only interested in my money. The same man I had begged my father to help when James claimed his family was struggling financially.

And now he was telling me that I had forced myself on him?

“You're lying,” I whispered.

“I'm not.”

“Then why did you accept everything I did for you? Why did you tell me you loved me?”

James sighed as if I was the one making things difficult.

“Can you stop making a scene? I just want to leave peacefully.”

I glanced around the café. A few people were already looking at us.

My cheeks burned.

“After everything I did for you, this is how you're going to treat me?”

I grabbed my glass of juice and poured it over his head.

James jumped to his feet.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You deserve it!”

He grabbed a napkin and wiped his face, glaring at me.

“This is another reason why I never wanted you. You're just a spoiled princess who thinks money can buy everything.”

"Always acting bossy and arrogant, yes you are beautiful, smart, rich and all that, but I can't cope with someone like you.

You are intimidating, I'm so out of this Erica."

My mouth fell open.

“James!”

“I'm out.”

He picked up his phone and walked away.

I watched him leave, unable to believe he could just walk away from me like that.

“James!” I screamed.

He didn't even turn around.

“JAMES!”

He continued walking.

I screamed so loudly that everyone in the café turned to look at me.

Some people whispered. Others simply stared.

I wanted the ground to swallow me.

I quickly grabbed my handbag and stood up, determined to leave before anyone could say anything to me.

But the moment I took a step, my heel snapped.

“Ah!”

I lost my balance and fell forward, landing hard on my knees.

My handbag slid across the floor.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?”

A man approached me and stretched out his hand.

I looked up at him, already irritated.

“Don't touch me.”

He paused.

“I was only trying to help.”

“I don't need your help.”

The man slowly withdrew his hand and returned to his seat.

I struggled to stand, my broken heel making it difficult. I picked up my handbag and turned toward the exit.

Then I noticed something about the man that wanted to help me.

The man was smiling.

He wasn't laughing, but there was a small smile on his face.

Was he seriously mocking me?

I marched over to his table.

“What are you smiling at?”

He looked up.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Why are you smiling?”

“I'm not.”

“Don't lie to me!”

Before he could say anything else, I grabbed his glass and emptied the drink over his head.

The man froze.

I crossed my arms.

“How dare you mock me by smiling?”

For a few seconds, he simply stared at me.

Then he slowly reached for a napkin and began wiping his face.

"Why did you do this, I was trying to help and you did this, this is so much for trying to help you, and you said I'm mocking you, You must be blinded by what just happened to you."

The people around us was looking at us laughing and whispering.

“No wonder he broke up with you. You have a terrible temper.”

My jaw dropped.

“What did you just say?”

He stood up, picked up his phone, and looked at me.

“You heard me.”

He walked past me without another word.

I stood there, completely stunned.

Who did he think he was?

First James, and now this stranger?

Was today some kind of joke?

I wanted to say something, but I couldn't think of anything.

The man had already left.

I returned to my table, grabbed my phone, and called my driver.

“Hello, Erica?”

“Come and pick me up.”

“Where are you, ma'am?”

I gave him the address and ended the call.

The moment I sat down, tears began falling from my eyes.

I covered my face with my hands.

I couldn't believe James had done this to me.

I had given him everything, and he had thrown it all away as if it meant nothing.

What was I supposed to tell my parents?

Especially my father.

He had warned me about James from the beginning, but I refused to listen.

I wiped my tears and looked at my broken heel.

“Perfect,” I muttered.

Today couldn't get any worse.

By the time I arrived home, my eyes were swollen, and my feet hurt.

I stepped out of the car carefully, trying not to put too much weight on my injured foot.

“Erica?”

I looked up and saw my mother standing near the staircase.

She frowned when she noticed my face.

“What happened to you? And why are you walking like that?”

“Nothing, Mom.”

“Nothing? Look at your face!”

I forced a smile.

“I'm just tired.”

She stepped closer, looking at me carefully.

“Did something happen with James?

I remembered you told me you wanted to go see him."

My heart sank.

I didn't want to talk about him.

“Mom, please. I said I'm fine.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but I quickly turned away.

“I need to rest.”

I walked upstairs before she could ask another question.

I didn't want anyone to see me crying again.

Especially not my mother.

When I reached the second floor, I headed toward my father's home office.

I needed to tell him what had happened.

Maybe he would understand.

But as I approached the door, I heard voices coming from inside.

My father's voice.

And another man's.

I stopped.

Who was visiting Dad at this hour?

I moved closer and gently pushed the door open.

Just a little.

My father was sitting behind his desk, facing a young man.

I couldn't see the man's face clearly because he had his back to the door.

“I'm glad you finally agreed to come,” my father said.

The young man replied, but his voice was too low for me to hear.

I leaned closer.

Something about his voice sounded familiar.

Then he shifted in his seat.

I caught a glimpse of his face.

My eyes widened.

No.

It couldn't be.