After the whole deal was signed and sealed, Nicolas felt like he was walking on clouds. The contract was safely stored in his briefcase, the signatures fresh, the promises of wealth and power still echoing in his ears.
He had done it!
He had secured the investnt that would change everything. Leonardo Moretti would lose. Hazel would co back to him. The world would finally see Nicolas Vale for what he truly was: a winner.
He decided to celebrate. There was a restaurant across from his company, a popular spot known for its elegant ambiance and celebrity clientele. Nicolas had been aning to go for weeks, but he had been too busy, too stressed, too consud by the deal. Now, with everything finally falling into place, he deserved to treat himself.
He drove himself, refusing to let his assistant accompany him. This was his mont. His victory. He wanted to savor it alone.
The restaurant was busy when he arrived. The hostess recognized him imdiately and ushered him to a pri table near the window. He ordered an expensive bottle of wine, leaned back in his chair, and allowed himself to bask in the glow of his success.
And then he saw her.
His ex-girlfriend, Vanessa, was sitting at the bar, alone, sipping a cocktail and scrolling through her phone. She looked beautiful. Blonde hair extensions falling in perfect waves over her shoulders, her red dress tight and short, showing off curves that had been carefully enhanced by a very expensive surgeon. Her lips were plump with filler, her cheekbones high and sharp, her skin smooth and flawless from regular treatnts. She was beautiful in the way that money could buy. Manufactured, polished, plastic.
Nicolas’s eyes lit up. He had always had a soft spot for Vanessa. She was beautiful and ambitious and knew how to make him feel like a king. They had ended things amicably, or at least as amicably as things ever ended with Nicolas. She had moved on and found soone else, but tonight she was alone.
He invited her to join him. She smiled, accepted, and soon they were sharing the expensive wine, laughing at old mories, flirting in the way that ca naturally to both of them.
It was perfect.
Until his gaze drifted across the restaurant and landed on a table near the back.
Hazel was there.
She was sitting with a man, a man Nicolas recognized instantly. Dominique. The good-for-nothing model. They were laughing together, their heads close, their smiles easy and warm. Hazel looked beautiful. Her hair loose, her scar visible but sohow less noticeable when she was smiling like that. She was wearing a simple black dress, elegant and understated, and she looked happier than Nicolas had ever seen her.
Nicolas’s eyes darkened with anger. His jaw tightened. His hands, which had been resting lightly on the table, curled into fists.
Vanessa noticed his change in deanor. She followed his gaze, spotted Hazel, and her expression shifted. For a mont, sothing ugly flickered across her perfectly made-up face. Jealousy, raw and bitter, before she masked it with a practiced smile.
Vanessa had never liked Hazel. Years ago, when they were in college, Hazel had been the one everyone noticed. Not because of money or connections, but because of her natural beauty. Her striking blue eyes, her flawless skin, her effortless grace. She hadn’t needed fillers or extensions or expensive treatnts. She had been born beautiful, and everyone had seen her.
And the guy she used to like had liked Hazel instead. When she found out, she cried the whole night. After that, she hated her.
Hazel was born rich. She could stay beautiful without even trying. But Vanessa was born with nothing.
She resented Hazel for having a good family background.
Every ti she thought about her past, a bitter taste filled her mouth.
So that was why Vanessa had been jealous. Fiercely, secretly jealous. She had spent years and a small fortune trying to achieve what Hazel had been given for free. And even now, with all her surgeries and treatnts, she knew, deep down, that Hazel was still more beautiful. The scar didn’t change that. If anything, it made Hazel more interesting, more real, more captivating.
"Isn’t that your supposed-to-be wife?" Vanessa said, her voice light, almost teasing, but she hid her sharpness. She reached across the table and took his hand, her fingers playing with his. "The one who left you at the altar?"
Nicolas didn’t answer. His focus was entirely on Dominique.
Vanessa followed his gaze, studying Dom with narrowed eyes. "That’s the guy she left you for? Who is he?"
"He’s just a model," Nicolas muttered.
Vanessa tossed her hair. "Well, she downgraded. Obviously. I an, look at him. What does he have that you don’t? A pretty face? That’s it." She patted Nicolas’s chest. "You’re a catch, baby. She’s the one who ssed up."
Nicolas’s chest puffed up slightly. "You think so?"
"I know so." Vanessa’s eyes drifted back to Hazel. "Leaving you at the altar like that. In front of everyone. How embarrassing for her." She shook her head, her lips curling. "I could never do sothing so tacky."
Nicolas watched Hazel laugh at sothing Dom said, his jealousy curdling into sothing darker. "She didn’t even look at when we walked in."
"Because she knows she made a mistake," Vanessa said smoothly. "She’s just too proud to admit it." She leaned closer, her voice dropping. "Look at her now, sitting with so model, pretending to be happy. It’s sad, really. She used to be so beautiful. Everyone talked about her. And now..." She gestured vaguely. "That scar. Yikes."
Nicolas said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
Vanessa pressed on, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "I an, you dodged a bullet, honestly. Can you imagine waking up next to that every morning?" She shuddered theatrically. "Poor you. Poor, poor you."
Nicolas’s grip on his wine glass tightened. "She wasn’t always like that."
"She is now." Vanessa shrugged. "And you deserve better. You deserve soone who actually looks like a woman. Soone who takes care of herself. Soone like—" She gestured at herself, smiling coyly. "Well. You know."
Nicolas looked at her. At her perfect hair, her perfect lips, her perfect body. Then he looked back at Hazel, laughing with Dom, her scarred face bright with happiness.
He stood abruptly. "Let’s go say hello."
Vanessa’s eyes lit up. "Oh, this is going to be good."
She took his arm, and together they walked across the restaurant, Nicolas’s steps confident, Vanessa’s hips swaying.
When they reached the table, Hazel looked up. Her smile faded, replaced by a guarded expression. Dom’s expression didn’t change, but his hand moved slightly on the table, closer to Hazel’s.
"Vanessa," Nicolas said, his voice loud enough for nearby tables to hear. "This is Hazel. My ex-fiancée. The one who left at the altar."
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