Billion dollar secrets

I should've known something was wrong the moment Caleb texted, "Let's talk." Just two words. No heart emoji. No "babe." No "I miss you." Just... cold.

Still, I held on to hope like a fool.

I thought maybe he was planning something big. Maybe a surprise. Maybe he'd finally take me to that rooftop restaurant he always promised he'd take me to "when the time is right."

So I got ready like it was a fairytale.

I curled my hair, added a touch of gloss to my lips, and slipped into that peachy silk dress-the one he said made me look like "a sunset wrapped in skin." I even wore the gold heels that killed my feet but made me feel expensive.

I walked into the rooftop restaurant feeling like the main character.

But in the end, I was just a side note in Caleb's story.

He was already seated, staring at the skyline, twirling the condensation on his glass like he was bored. He didn't even stand up when I walked over. Didn't smile. Didn't say, "You look beautiful."

He just looked at me, cleared his throat, and said, "Reina, we need to talk."

And the way he said my name-so formal, so flat-I knew.

This wasn't a proposal.

This was a funeral.

> "I think we want different things," he began, not meeting my eyes. "You're sweet and... loyal. But I'm not in the right place for something serious."

My chest tightened. "What does that even mean, Caleb?"

He finally looked at me. And it hit me then-there was nothing in his eyes. No guilt. No sadness. Just... nothing.

> "It means I don't want to be in a relationship anymore."

I blinked. "After two years, you're just done?"

> "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said like it was a script. "I just need to figure myself out."

Liar.

I didn't cry. Not then. I sat in silence while he flagged the waiter and handed over a fifty like it was charity. He stood, offered me a pitiful look, and walked away.

He didn't even hug me goodbye.

The waiter came over, awkwardly hovering, and I realized he'd only paid for himself. My untouched pasta was still steaming in front of me, the bill sitting beside it like a final insult.

I paid. I left. I didn't even make it home before I started crying.

I cried in the cab. I cried on the elevator. I cried until my mascara made war paint down my cheeks. And when I got to my tiny apartment, I threw my heels across the room and screamed into a pillow like some overdramatic movie character.

I mean, who breaks up with someone like that? Just... ends things like it was a casual Tuesday?

But the universe? Oh, she wasn't done with me yet.

Because two days later, while I was deep in heartbreak mode-eating Doritos for breakfast and wrapped in a blanket burrito-I made the worst mistake of all.

I opened Instagram.

And there it was.

A photo that slapped me harder than Caleb's breakup.

Caleb.

Grinning like an idiot.

Standing next to Savannah-my cousin, my childhood frenemy, my parents' golden child-and she was showing off a massive engagement ring like she won the freaking lottery.

> "The beginning of forever 💍 #EngagedToTheCEO"

I stared at the screen like it was a lie. Like maybe I'd accidentally clicked on one of those AI-generated gossip pages. But no. It was real. The comments were flooded with "OMG congrats!!" and "Power couple!!" and heart emojis.

My heart felt like it shattered all over again.

And then I read the tag in the photo.

@XanderKnightCorp.

Wait.

Xander Knight?

Not Caleb.

Not the emotionally constipated furniture store manager.

Savannah wasn't engaged to my ex. She was engaged to Caleb's billionaire boss.

The Xander Knight.

The one with the cold stare and the private jet. The one everyone whispered about in the business world. The one who was on the cover of Forbes last month for sealing a nine-figure deal in Dubai.

And somehow, Savannah had bagged him.

I laughed. Then I cried. Then I laughed while crying. Because of course she did.

Of course she'd one-up me.

I couldn't even keep Caleb. Meanwhile, she landed a billionaire with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass.

And as if the universe wasn't done dragging me, my phone rang.

Unknown number.

I sniffled, wiped my face, and answered like a zombie. "Hello?"

> "Miss Reina Moreno?" A voice so smooth and deep it made my skin prickle.

"Um... yes?"

> "This is Xander Knight. We need to talk."

I blinked. "Wait-what?"

> "I assume you're aware of my engagement to Savannah Evans?"

His voice was like ice wrapped in velvet. Calm, confident, but dangerous.

"Yeah. Instagram kinda broke the news to me."

> "Meet me tomorrow. The Sterling Hotel. Penthouse. 8 p.m. Don't be late."

He hung up before I could even ask why.

I stared at my phone like it had just insulted me.

What. The. Actual. Hell.

Why was Xander freaking Knight calling me?

What could he possibly want with me?

Was this some weird billionaire intimidation tactic?

Or maybe... maybe Savannah had done something.

I didn't know. But I was going.

Because when a man like Xander Knight tells you to show up, you don't say no.

Even if he's your cousin's brand-new fiancé.

Especially if he's your cousin's brand-new fiancé.