Chapter 2
I was just arriving home when a message popped up asking me to deliver documents to the Sovereign Club.
Without hesitation, I turned around and ordered a rideshare through my company’s expense app.
Adult evenings rarely belong to oneself.
When not dedicated to love, they’re mostly consumed by unpleasant work obligations.
Stepping out into the biting wind, I looked around.
I’d heard of the Sovereign Club – a place frequented by the extraordinary.
My boss could only access this hidden courtyard mansion thanks to connections with their executives.
Through the vermillion doors, flanked by suited attendants, I stated my purpose and was respectfully guided inside.
As expected, after delivering the documents, I put on my practiced smile and graciously made the rounds
with drinks.
Usually, document delivery doesn’t require my personal attention.
But these business dinners always need a pretty face for decoration.
“Mr. Sullivan, this is Emma from our tech department. She’ll explain everything – true professional!*
When our business partner’s fingers brushed my hand, I lowered my glass and discreetly pulled away.
Often, I couldn’t outright refuse, even if it meant enduring certain gazes.
After several drinks, I excused myself for fresh air.
Around a corridor, a door stood ajar, its brass handle gleaming coldly, ornate carvings on the frame flickering in the night.
I glanced briefly, about to look away, when a voice carried from inside.
“It’s hilarious – Emma thinks Alex won’t marry her because he’s poor?”
“I’ll give her credit for being sincere.”
06:34
Seven Your
Chapter 2
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“I checked with my banking contact. She withdrew all her savings just $195,460 for a down payment on what she thinks will be their marriage home.”
“A hundred grand? That barely buys a bathroom these days.”
I stopped, incredulous, moving closer to listen.
“But seriously, what’s with your shabby clothes? We’ve all been abroad, and you’re still playing poor?”
I recalled Alex’s outfit this morning – a $200 down jacket, $50 pants from Amazon, and the Balenciaga Triple S sneakers I’d tracked down through resellers.
Looking down at myself, nothing I wore cost over $200.
Thinking I must have misheard, I reached for my phone to make a call.
Then I saw someone inside lean forward to open a bottle on the table.
The movement revealed his full profile and attire.
My fingers clutched my clothes until my knuckles went white.
I stared at the scene before me, wanting to speak but finding my throat frozen by the winter air.
Alex glanced at the man who’d been speaking: “I have my reasons. Stay out of it.”
“Come on, what ‘reasons‘ take five years? Wasn’t this just supposed to be a game? Don’t tell me you
actually fell for Cinderella?”
Alex’s hand paused while lighting a cigarette, then he smirked: “What are you talking about?”
“Even if you care for her, you can’t possibly marry her. My advice? End it now, don’t waste her time. Let
her find someone suitable.”
“Harrison-” Alex exhaled smoke, giving him a lazy look, “you talk too much.”
“Hah,” Harrison smirked, “You barely talk, but next time you make me download Temu at midnight for your Cinderella, I’ll come for you first.”
A bespectacled young man raised his hand politely: “Actually, I think Temu is quite good. My VIP status is
maxed out!”
Everyone ignored him as Harrison continued: “When are you planning to tell her?”
Alex paused: “On my engagement day.”
06:34
Seven Years of Love. Seven Minutes
19.5%
Chapter 2
“Is it settled with the Montgomery family?”
“Yes.”
“How will you handle it? This is unethical.”
“He doesn’t need to explain – Alex should just disappear.”
“True. Someone like Emma would never naturally cross paths with our circle.”
“Give her some money when it’s over. She spent five years with you, after all.”
These words crashed into my mind like they were from another universe.
I watched Alex, desperately hoping he would say something different.
That I was different – that I was Alex’s girlfriend of five years, legitimate and real.
But he didn’t. He offered no defense, said nothing more.
I stood frozen by the door, feeling the cold wind penetrate my bones.
Through the cigarette smoke, I tried to read his impassive face.
Like the bare crabapple tree outside, weighted down by winter snow, unable to straighten its back no
matter how hard it tried.
