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Chapter Twelve: Met Gala
Last Updated:
2025-08-26 16:37:39
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The Billionaire Waitress Chapter Fifteen: Hurt & Gone
Early January 2026 cast a soft, golden light over Montclair’s quiet streets, the winter breeze whispering through bare maples, carrying the scent of frost and distant pine. It did little to soothe the ache in my chest, a heavy thud that had settled there a week ago when the TMZ photo of Justin with Claire shattered my world. Her hand rested lightly on his arm, her sleek blonde hair catching the flash of cameras at a Manhattan café. His It’s just business, I love you texts had come fast and desperate, but they rang hollow against the churn of X posts: “Kayla Reed Dumped Again?” and “Justin Drake’s New Fling?” I’d fled his Greenwich penthouse that night, needing space, my suitcase packed in a haze of tears and disbelief. I hadn’t returned his calls, hadn’t opened most of his messages. The sapphire engagement ring he’d given me at Tod’s Point—its tiny sapphires glinting under the moonlight as he knelt—sat in a drawer in my Montclair apartment, its beauty now a painful reminder of fragi
The Billionaire Waitress Chapter Fourteen: Caught with the Other Woman
Late December 2025 shimmered over Greenwich Avenue, the winter air crisp yet heavy with the scent of evergreen and distant ocean salt as I walked from my Montclair apartment to the train station. The fading sunlight glinted off my sapphire engagement ring, its tiny gems sparkling like captured stars, a constant reminder of Justin’s proposal on Tod’s Point one week ago. His voice had been soft yet fervent under the lantern light, Will you marry me?, sealing our love in a moment that felt eternal. But TMZ had splashed our engagement across headlines the next day, turning our private joy into public spectacle. X posts had mostly cheered—Kayla Reed’s ring is goals! and From waitress to fiancée—slay!—but Xiamond’s recent Paris buzz lingered, her cryptic interview quote, He’s still my muse, a thorn twisting in my confidence. I’d settled into Montclair, New Jersey, balancing college classes on literature and my part-time bookstore job, shelving novels that mirrored my own whirlwind ro
The Billionaire Waitress Chapter Thirteen: Proposal
Mid-December 2025 bathed Tod’s Point in a soft golden glow, the Long Island Sound shimmering as I stood on the Greenwich beach where Justin and I had bared our love a year ago. One week had passed since the Met Gala, where my sapphire gown, dripping with crystals to match the auction necklace, had sparkled under New York’s lights. Xiamond’s Paris X posts—her cryptic He’s still my muse—had stirred TMZ rumors, but Justin’s fierce reassurance on that balcony had quieted my doubts, leaving my heart warm and my body humming. I’d moved to Montclair, New Jersey, last year, trading The Gilded Spoon’s chaos for community college and a bookstore job, my jet-black hair now shoulder-length, my plus-sized curves in a simple white sundress that fluttered in the breeze. Tonight, Justin had asked me here, his text vague but warm: Meet me at our spot. 7 PM. My heart raced, a mix of love and anticipation, my skin tingling with the memory of his touch.The beach was quiet, the waves lapping gently
The Billionaire Waitress Chapter Twelve: Met Gala
Early December 2025’s crisp air pulsed with anticipation in New York City as I stood in a Manhattan hotel suite, my reflection glowing in a gilded mirror. Over a year had passed since Justin’s press tour defended our love, since TMZ branded me Kayla Reed, the Greenwich waitress turned billionaire’s partner. I’d moved to Montclair, New Jersey, six months ago, seeking a quieter life and starting community college, my jet-black hair now shoulder-length, my plus-sized curves draped in a custom sapphire gown. The dress echoed the sapphire necklace Justin bid $100,000 for at the Greenwich auction, its deep blue silk shimmering with crystals cascading like starlight from bodice to hem, catching the light with every move. Tonight, at the Met Gala, we’d face the world together, but my heart raced with familiar fears—my chest tight, my body humming with nerves, wondering if I could hold my own in his dazzling world.The past year had tested us. The beach scandal at Tod’s Point, my identity expo
The Billionaire Waitress Chapter Eleven: Press Tour
Early December’s chill kissed Greenwich Avenue, the trees bare but glowing under streetlights as I sat on my apartment’s worn couch, my phone buzzing with notifications I couldn’t escape. Two weeks had passed since TMZ unmasked me as Kayla Reed, the “waitress in Justin Drake’s beach encounter,” my life—my job at The Gilded Spoon, my thrift-store gown, my struggling roots—splashed across headlines and X posts. The grainy Tod’s Point photo from our passionate night haunted me, Justin’s hands on my skin, my body arching under him, now twisted into gossip. Meeting his family—Eleanor’s icy gaze, Lila’s warmth—had been tough, but the world’s judgment cut deeper, my heart aching even as my body craved him. Now, Justin was in New York City, launching a press tour to control the narrative, to protect us. My jet-black hair fell loose, my navy T-shirt and jeans a stark contrast to the spotlight, my nipples tightening at the thought of him. Could our love survive this storm?I flicked on the TV,
The Billionaire Waitress Chapter Ten: The Aftermath
Late November’s warmth wrapped Greenwich Avenue in a golden haze, the trees heavy with fading autumn leaves as I walked toward Justin’s car, my heart a tangled knot of love and dread. It was a week since our night on Tod’s Point beach, our bodies entwined under moonlight, his touch setting me ablaze until a paparazzi flash shattered our bliss. The TMZ headline—Justin Drake’s Beach Encounter with Mystery Woman—Who’s His New Love?—had exploded, the grainy photo of us tangled in the sand, my dress hiked up, his hands on me, plastered across X posts. My face, blurred but haunting, burned in my mind. I’d spent days dodging my phone, avoiding the whispers on Greenwich’s streets, my body still humming with the memory of him. He’d asked me to meet his family at their Greenwich estate, a step that felt like walking into a lion’s den—thrilling, terrifying, and heavy with the weight of his world. My jet-black hair hung loose, brushing my shoulders, my white dress clinging to my plus-sized curves
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