Chapter 2: Out Of Your League

"We need to talk," Allen said again, his voice cutting through the crowded ballroom with scary clarity.

The conversations around us started to die down as people turned to stare. I felt all those curious eyes on me, that sudden quiet that happens when people smell drama coming. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst as Allen stepped closer, Rachel still hanging on his arm like an expensive accessory.

"Allen, please," I whispered, looking around at all the watching faces. "Not here. Not like this."

But he was already moving, pulling Rachel toward the center of the room where the dance floor made a perfect stage. The jazz band seemed to pick up on the tension, their music getting quieter and quieter.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Allen called out, using the same confident voice from his speech earlier. "Before we keep celebrating, I have one more thing to announce."

My blood went ice cold. Around us, people pressed closer, phones coming out as everyone got ready to record whatever was about to happen. I spotted a photographer near the back wall, his camera already pointing at us.

"Allen, don't," I barely breathed, but he wasn't even looking at me anymore. His eyes were locked on Rachel, who was staring up at him with this satisfied, adoring look.

"Five years ago, I made certain promises," he continued, his voice easily carrying across the now-silent ballroom. "Promises to someone who believed in me when I had nothing. And I'm grateful for that support during those hard times."

A tiny spark of hope flickered in my chest. Maybe this was his way of finally giving me credit, of acknowledging what we'd built together. Maybe—

"But tonight, standing here as CEO of a forty-seven million dollar company, I realize something important." Allen's arm tightened around Rachel's waist, pulling her closer. "Don't you think that I'm totally out of your league now?"

The question hung in the air like poison. I felt my face go numb, my hands starting to shake as his words hit me. Around us, the crowd shifted uncomfortably, some people actually gasping at how cruel it was.

"Allen," I whispered, my voice so quiet I could barely hear it myself.

"You were useful when I had nothing," he kept going, each word hitting me like a slap. "When I needed someone to do the work I couldn't afford to pay for. But look at me now." He waved around at the fancy ballroom, at all the crystal and silk and diamonds surrounding us. "I deserve someone who matches my success."

Rachel's smile got wider, showing off her perfect white teeth. She pressed herself against Allen's side, her red dress a sharp contrast to his black tux. Together, they looked like they belonged on a magazine cover—beautiful, powerful, untouchable.

"I don't understand," I said, even though I understood perfectly. I just couldn't accept it yet, couldn't believe that the man I'd loved for five years could be this cruel.

"Let me make it clearer," Allen said, using that talking-down-to-you tone he used with difficult clients. "Rachel and I have been together for months now. She gets my world in ways you never could. She has the education, the connections, the class that someone in my position needs."

The photographer's camera flashed, and I jumped like I'd been hit. This was being recorded, saved forever—my humiliation captured in high definition for anyone who wanted to see it.

"We built this together," I said desperately, my voice breaking. "The company, the systems, everything. I gave you five years of my life, Allen. I gave you everything I had."

Rachel laughed—a sound like silver bells but somehow vicious. "Oh, honey," she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "You gave him your time, yes. But look around you. This kind of success needs more than just hard work. It needs breeding, connections, and the right kind of partner."

She held up her left hand, and I saw it—a huge diamond ring that hadn't been there earlier tonight. The engagement ring I'd dreamed about for years, now sparkling on another woman's finger.

"Congratulations are in order," Allen announced, his voice booming across the ballroom. "Rachel has agreed to be my wife."

The crowd exploded in applause and cheers, the awkward tension melting into celebration. People rushed forward to congratulate the happy couple, champagne glasses raised in toasts to their future happiness.

I stood frozen in the middle of it all, watching as my life fell apart around me. The ring caught the light from the chandeliers, sending rainbow flashes across the dance floor like scattered pieces of my broken dreams.

"Emma," Allen said, his voice dropping to a whisper meant just for me. "You have to understand. This isn't personal. It's business. Rachel can open doors that you never could. She knows people, the right people. She can help me build something even bigger."

"This isn't personal?" I repeated, my voice completely hollow. "Five years of my life isn't personal?"

"You'll be fine," he said dismissively. "You're smart, hardworking. You'll find another job, maybe meet someone more... suitable for your situation."

The way he talked down to me was unbearable. I looked at his face—really looked at it—searching for any trace of the man who'd once held me and whispered promises of love, who'd said we'd face everything together. But there was nothing there except cold calculation and mild annoyance, like I was a problem he needed to solve quickly so he could get back to his party.

"I loved you," I whispered.

"I know," he replied, and those two words were crueler than anything else he'd said. They acknowledged my feelings while completely dismissing them as irrelevant, stupid, embarrassing.

Rachel's grip on his arm tightened possessively. "Allen, darling," she murmured, "maybe we should let Emma process this news privately. I'm sure she needs some time to adjust."

The dismissal was so smooth, so perfectly polite, that it took me a moment to realize what it was—an order to leave. To remove myself from their perfect evening so they could keep celebrating without the inconvenience of me being there.

I turned and walked toward the exit, my legs moving on autopilot while my mind spun. Behind me, I could hear the party starting up again—laughter, music, the sound of glasses clinking as people toasted the golden couple's future. The photographer's camera flashed again, capturing the celebration I was no longer part of.

At the ballroom doors, I stopped with my hand on the fancy handle. Something made me turn back, maybe some sick need to see them together one more time, to confirm that this nightmare was really happening.

Allen and Rachel were dancing now, moving together with the kind of natural grace that comes from shared privilege and matching ambitions. She whispered something in his ear, and he threw back his head and laughed—a sound of pure joy that I realized I hadn't heard from him in a while.

That's when I heard it, carried clearly across the ballroom by some cruel trick of sound.

"She actually thought I'd marry her," Allen said to Rachel, his voice full of amused disbelief. "Can you believe that? Five years of stringing along some nobody from the wrong side of town, and she honestly thought I'd choose her over everything I could have."

Rachel's laughter was like broken glass. "Poor thing. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost."

They were both laughing now, their voices carrying across the ballroom like a public announcement of how worthless I was. Around them, other couples danced, completely unaware of the casual destruction of everything I'd believed about my life.

I pushed through the doors and stumbled into the hotel hallway, my vision blurring with tears I refused to let fall. Not here. Not where someone might see and add to the humiliation. The thick carpet muffled my footsteps as I walked toward the elevators on shaky legs.

Behind me, the ballroom doors swung shut, cutting off the music and laughter. But I could still hear Allen's words echoing in my head: She actually thought I'd marry her. Can you believe that?

The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and I stepped inside, finally letting myself collapse against the mirrored wall. My reflection stared back at me—a woman in a simple black dress, her face pale and hollow-eyed, looking every inch the nobody from the wrong side of town that Allen had always seen her as.

As the doors closed and the elevator started going down, I realized that the man I'd loved—the man I'd sacrificed everything for—had never existed at all. He'd been a lie, a performance, a role Allen had played just long enough to get what he needed.

And now that he had everything, he didn't need me anymore.