Chapter 2: Clash on the Avenue

As soon as I finished, the comments exploded on my screen:

*How can you be so cold? Poor CEO’s son will go drown his sorrows at a bar...*

*Sigh, he’s just a little proud and stubborn, and now he’s lost his fiancée.*

*No worries, he’ll just bankrupt your family so you’ll have to beg him for mercy.*

*Then you’ll have to fight other women for his attention every day, and he’ll be thrilled!*

I stared at the comments, so angry I could only scoff. My phone vibrated non-stop, but I refused to let my hands shake. I rolled my eyes, mouthing a few choice words I’d never say in front of my grandmother. The injustice was almost laughable.

Looking sideways again, I caught Brandon’s gaze across the coffee shop’s glass wall. His eyes locked on mine, daring me to react. For a micro-beat, I remembered when he’d once brought me here after a finals meltdown—how he’d made me laugh with a dumb joke about bagels and trust funds. The sting of betrayal hit twice as hard as Maddie clung to him.

He raised his eyebrows, letting Maddie keep holding onto him, not even looking guilty for being caught. She gripped tighter, as if staking her claim. Maybe he noticed how pissed I looked, because the corner of his lips curled up in amusement—loving the game more than the win.

The influencer girlfriend and Brandon looked like a picture-perfect couple, drawing a crowd of people snapping photos on their phones. A group of NYU students gathered nearby, phones angled up, hoping to snag a viral shot for TikTok. Their laughter echoed off the polished tile floors. I wondered if I’d ended up in their pictures.

I caught my own reflection—shoulders back, chin high, like nothing could touch me. But inside, I was unraveling.

I muttered a curse, grabbed my purse, and called for an Uber. I decided to wait for my ride somewhere else.

Shouldering my Marc Jacobs tote, I kept my sunglasses low and ducked out, blending into the crowd like any other Manhattanite running from drama.

But as soon as I stepped outside, I ran straight into Brandon. He smelled faintly of Tom Ford cologne and something sharper—expensive, infuriating. For a second, my breath hitched.

“Did you just come this way?” I asked, my tone clipped. I could hear the rumble of city traffic behind me, the world moving on, not caring about our mess.

“So worried about me?” Brandon’s eyes curved lazily. His voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it. I felt my cheeks flush, partly from the cold, partly from frustration.

Maddie eyed me warily, lips twisting in a practiced pout. I almost admired her commitment—almost.

Thinking of those comments, my irritation flared up again. I could practically feel my blood pressure spike. If I’d had a stress ball, I would’ve popped it.

I tried to walk around them, but my wrist was suddenly grabbed. His grip was warm, familiar, but this time it felt like a shackle. My pulse thudded in my ears, the city’s noise fading as I stared him down.

I turned back. Brandon spoke in a low voice: “Are you upset?”

His voice was soft, too soft. The kind you’d use to soothe a frightened animal, not a woman who’s had enough.

I looked him and Maddie up and down. “Not upset. I wish you two a long and happy life.”

My words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t care. I met his gaze, daring him to contradict me.

But he still didn’t let go. His grip tightened, like he was afraid I’d vanish if he blinked.

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Who are you, getting in the way of other people shopping?” She shook her diamond bracelet, then looked at Brandon with a pout. “Are you jealous because no one buys you anything?”

She tossed her hair, the move practiced, like she’d done it a thousand times for her followers. I wanted to laugh. Instead, I just sighed.

I replied, voice sharp and clear, “You know he’s engaged, right? Or does that not matter when there’s a camera around?”

She froze, then scoffed. “A business engagement—what feelings could there be? If Brandon really liked her, would he be with me now?”

She tossed her head again, smirking. The self-confidence of someone who’d never been told ‘no.’

Brandon sneered, his jaw tightening. I could almost see the storm brewing behind his calm exterior.

My expression didn’t change. I nodded, then glanced at the hand still gripping my wrist. “Let go.”

I made it sound like an order, not a request. The chill in my voice matched the November wind.

Brandon didn’t move, still staring at me. “Find someone else to go with you to the gala the day after tomorrow.”

His words were a challenge, not a suggestion. I could tell he expected me to protest, to chase after him. Not this time.

Maddie was startled, then looked me up and down. After a moment, she grinned: “Oh, so you’re his fiancée? So what? The day after tomorrow, Brandon will be with me.”

She flashed a sly smile, her voice honeyed but sharp. It was a performance, and she was playing to the crowd.

I figured the breakup agreement would reach the Foster family tomorrow. The thought settled, an unexpected wave of relief washing over me.

“Alright,” I said, “can you let go now?” I flexed my hand, ready to wrench it free if I had to.

Brandon hesitated, his face darkening. “Who are you going to bring?”

His question was low, possessive. I met his gaze, refusing to look away.

A string of eligible bachelors flashed through my mind. I answered honestly, “I haven’t decided yet, but I can pick one when I get home.”

I tried to keep my voice steady, even as my heart hammered in my chest. The city air felt heavier, thick with tension.

The air was stiflingly silent, except for the curious glances from passersby on the downtown street. A little girl tugged her mom’s hand and pointed at us, her eyes wide, probably thinking she was seeing a real-life soap opera.

More comments scrolled by in my periphery:

*Oh my god, the CEO’s son is about to lose it.*

*CEO’s son: Can’t you just look at me with teary eyes and soften up? Must you drive me mad?*

*Girl, act spoiled, cry! Don’t waste your beauty and his love!*

*Honestly, don’t be so stubborn. If he snaps, who knows what he’ll do... bankrupt your family, lock you up until you give in.*

I could almost hear the peanut gallery, their voices echoing in my head, as if my life were just another reality show for them to binge.

“Rachel, well done.” Brandon gritted his teeth, his voice icy cold. His eyes narrowed. If looks could kill, I’d be a chalk outline on the sidewalk.

He finally let go of my hand. I jerked it back, rubbing my wrist, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flinch.

I stepped forward, glanced at the necklace on Maddie’s neck, and then looked deeply at Brandon. “You said before you’d give me this necklace.”

My voice didn’t waver, even as the memories threatened to surface. It was a promise made, a promise broken.

With that, I turned and left. My heels clicked sharply on the pavement, each step echoing my resolve. I didn’t look back.

Brandon chased after me, his tone unreadable. “You still remember?” He sounded almost surprised, as if he thought I’d forgotten everything except his betrayals.

“But now I don’t need it.” I didn’t stop walking. My words hung in the air between us, final as a slammed door.

“She knows how to act sweet, always clings to me... even calls me ‘babe,’” Brandon said quietly. There was a plaintive note in his voice, something raw that almost made me turn around. Almost.

So that’s why you gave her the necklace you once promised me?

My chest tightened, a knot of anger and heartbreak. I forced myself not to show it. My throat and stomach twisted. I pressed a hand to my midsection, steadying myself. The world spun just a little.

The comments boiled over:

*He’s hinting at you!*

*The CEO’s son can’t hold it in anymore, haha. Girl, just call him ‘babe’ once, and he’ll give you his world.*

*He dreams of you calling him ‘babe’—wakes up and has to change the sheets...*

I could practically hear the collective squeal of the internet, gleeful at my pain.

I stopped, looked Brandon in the eye, and said each word clearly:

“That’s right. From now on, I’ll act sweet with other guys, call someone else ‘babe.’ Then he’ll grant my wishes too.”

I made sure my voice carried. Let them all hear it—him, his little influencer, the gawking crowd.

“Say that again.” Brandon’s voice was icier than ever. He stepped closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming, as if he could bully me into taking it back.

His large hand gripped my shoulder so tightly it felt like he wanted to crush me. His fingers dug in, but I stood my ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flinch.

At that moment, Maddie timidly spoke up: “Brandon, what’s wrong?” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, unsure for the first time. It almost made me pity her.

Brandon didn’t even look at her, his gaze locked on me. His jaw was set, like he could grind the words out between his teeth.

She pouted, glaring at me. “You made Brandon angry? He’s never unhappy when he’s with me.” She clung to his arm, voice whiny and childlike, the kind that used to make me roll my eyes when I saw it on reality TV.

My disgust deepened. I turned my head away, refusing to say another word. I pressed my lips together, counting the seconds until I could escape this circus.

After a long silence, Brandon’s hand dropped. He closed his eyes in frustration, his whole figure shrouded in gloom. He ran a hand through his hair, something I’d seen him do only when truly rattled. The tough guy routine faded for a moment, and he looked almost... lost.

“She knows how not to piss me off, Rachel.” He left those cold words behind and walked away.

His words lingered like a slap. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Maddie immediately hurried after him, trying to coax him sweetly. She latched onto his arm again, her giggle forced and brittle as glass.

Their retreating figures looked like a perfect match. Together, they made a striking couple, all style and no substance.

The comments surged again:

*Girl just won’t soften up, personally pushing away the one who loves her.*

*Can’t you say a few nice words to the CEO’s son? Do you really want that wannabe to win?*

*Speechless. Check Twitter—someone already posted photos and videos online.*

A fresh wave of embarrassment threatened to drown me. Suddenly, my phone vibrated again—this time with new notifications.