Chapter 4

He'd tried the grand gesture before.

A week after I was fired, after the city's culinary scene had collectively slammed its doors in my face, he'd shown up at my tiny, depressing studio apartment.

He had a bouquet of grocery-store roses and another velvet box.

This one contained a slightly larger, but still unimpressive, diamond chip.

"I know this isn't what we planned," he'd said, his voice earnest. "But I talked to my parents. They'll help us. We can still have that wedding. A smaller one, maybe. But it'll be beautiful."

I'd just stared at him, numb.

"What about Sophia?" I'd asked.

"Sophia who?" He'd looked genuinely confused for a moment. "Oh, her. She's... she's just a colleague, Em. You're the one I love. You know that."

He'd tried to put the ring on my finger. It still felt loose, wrong.

"This doesn't change anything, Jake," I'd said. "You let them destroy me."

"I'll fix it!" he'd insisted. "I promise. We'll get through this. Together."

I'd wanted to believe him. A tiny, foolish part of me still clung to the wreckage of our shared dreams.

But then Sophia herself had arrived at my door a few days later.

She was wearing a new dress, her hair perfectly styled. She leaned against the doorframe, a smug little smile playing on her lips.

"Heard Jake proposed," she said, examining her nails. "Cute. He's good at those empty gestures."

My blood ran cold. "What do you want, Sophia?"

"Just to give you a little friendly advice," she said, her eyes glinting. "He'll never leave me. Not really. He needs me. My father is investing heavily in his new restaurant concept. You? You're just... baggage."

She'd then "accidentally" dropped a printout of a reservation. A romantic weekend getaway. For two. Jake's name was on it. And hers.

I'd confronted Jake. He'd sworn it was a business trip. That Sophia's father insisted she come along.

"You have to trust me, Em," he'd pleaded.

I didn't.

Now, years later, under the glare of the paparazzi, Jake's pleas felt like a hollow echo of past deceptions.

"That ring you're offering, Jake," I said, my voice clear and steady. "It's a beautiful design. Sophia always did have expensive taste."

His face went pale.

"What... what are you talking about?"

"The three-carat princess cut, platinum band? It was her dream ring, wasn't it? She showed me a picture once. After you bought her that Tiffany necklace with our money."

He looked like I'd slapped him.

Carol Brown gasped. Arthur Brown's face hardened.