All Chapters of Gone Was His Jasmine: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

At an Architecture Awards ceremony in New York, the ballroom of a luxury hotel located in Midtown Manhattan was filled to the brim with business elites. They fashioned themselves in all varieties of luxury name brands.Ethan stood underneath the spotlight with a deep-set look in his eyes, eyes that easily mesmerized countless Ivy League girls. He surveyed the floor before crowning the design of Sophie Vanderbilt as the winner of the competition.I gripped my champagne glass so tightly that my knuckles turned white. Soon, the crowd rose into a standing ovation.This was my fifth year as a ghost architect. It was also the final year of the laborious contract I had signed with Moore Architects. The contract signed was “Terms of Promotion for Senior Partnership.”My boyfriend, Ethan Moore, was the head juror of the competition. He had crowned the twenty-three-year-old Sophie Vanderbilt, the daughter of a real estate tycoon, with an impressive score of 92.8. Just like that, he propped h

The straw that broke the camel's back was an episode from three months ago. What it came down to was a matter of priority.On that particular day, Sophie was cut by a marble slab somewhere in the affluent district of the Hamptons. At the same time, I was conducting a site survey at an abandoned factory in the Bronx and ended up hurting myself when I fell from a stairway. The injury she sustained was only a tiny cut, no longer than a centimeter in width, while I suffered a spinal injury. Even in the same city, our fates were a sharp contrast.The extent of Ethan’s concern for me was limited to a short sentence, asking, “Are you okay?”Meanwhile, he made a grand and chivalrous display of taking Sophie to the best hospital in the region in his Tesla. He was so worried for her that he even sought medical advice on social media with a post that read, “Urgent! What's the solution to preventing a potential scar?”From the pictures, I could see Sophie seated in the passenger seat of his Te

“Ethan’s new project listing is about to be closed! It’s for a prime location in the heart of Brooklyn! Aren’t you going to try to fight for it?”Lisa grabbed my arm firmly.I took a look at my phone and saw that there were unread messages.“I’m not going.”Lisa’s hand trembled with rage, causing her to spill her oat latte onto the table.“What do you mean you’re not going? That was your design! He robbed you at the award ceremony!” She was yelling at this point. “He’s taking advantage of you!”“What about it?” I interrupted her lethargically.Of course, I realized he was taking advantage of me.Four years ago, we were holed up in a shoebox apartment somewhere in Chinatown, working on a project in the Lower East District. In that place where even the vermin avoided, we spent our days drawing up blueprints.After we became successful, he became the darling of the New York Times, while I remained unknown. When I tried to fight for at least a bit of credit for the design, he smil

Before I left, Jack invited me to a party at a private club on the east side of the city.“It’s a networking event reserved for the elites. They’re all bigshot partners.”The only reason I went was not for me, but for Lisa instead. Before I left for good, I had to make sure she and the team were left in good hands, preferably assigned to a respectable project.The event was held in a century-old villa built with mahogany, where waiters carted around trolleys made with silver. When I instinctively helped the waiter hold the cumbersome oak door open, he looked at me gratefully. I thought it was the only genuine human interaction I’d had all day.I could hear the sound of laughter and conversation spilling through the ajar door.“I’m going to be honest, Ethan. Arya’s blueprint was as perfect as they come. I don’t know how you have the heart to rip it from her.”Then, I heard Ethan’s voice. There was the usual mark of arrogance in his voice, the kind that was distinctive of Ivy Leagu

[Ethan’s Point of View]I had a terrible hangover, which gave me a headache that felt like something was drilling into my brain. In a half-asleep state, I heard the sound of familiar footsteps. The mattress dipped slightly, suggesting someone had sat on the bed. I instinctively reached out to wrap my arm around the figure and spoke, my voice hoarse, “Baby... would you make me some soup…”It was Arya's secret recipe. She would add a generous amount of herbs along with a sprinkle of grilled bacon and black pepper—a magical cure for a hangover.The person in my arms stiffened for a second.Then, I heard a soft chuckle, followed by a voice. “Open your mouth.”A spoon was delivered to my lips. The moment the spoon entered my mouth, it was filled with an overpowering smell of fish mixed with the unmistakable sting of brandy that rushed straight to my head. It was not the soup I was used to, but some sort of expensive and cold lobster bisque.There was not the usual tone of gentle rep