Jessica stared at Ryan, her carefully prepared speech dying in her throat.
All the accusations she’d rehearsed, all the guilt-tripping she’d planned—blocked by a single word.
Okay.
That was it?
What the hell kind of reaction was that?
“Ryan!
You can’t just—how can you DO this?!” Ashley jumped in, playing her role as the loyal best friend to perfection.
“Do you have any idea how upset Jessica has been?
She’s been CRYING over you!
And you don’t even care?
What kind of heartless asshole—” Ryan looked at Ashley like she was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“Pretty sure I mentioned breaking up this morning,” he said flatly.
“So we’re not together.
Which means whether Jessica cries or not is literally none of my business.
Why exactly are you inserting yourself into this?” Ashley’s face went from righteous indignation to splotchy red.
“I’m not—she’s my best friend, I’m just—” “What, hoping to swoop in yourself?” Ryan asked, his tone so casual it made the insult land even harder.
“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re not my type either.
Actually, you’d have to pay me to date you.” “How DARE you—” Ashley sputtered.
“Enough!” Jessica finally found her voice, and it came out shrill enough to make nearby diners wince.
“Ryan, what the HELL is wrong with you?!” Her eyes were red-rimmed, her perfectly made-up face starting to crack around the edges.
She pointed at the table full of half-eaten entrées with a shaking hand.
“I know what this is about!
You’re pissed at me for asking you to buy me things!
But look at YOU!
Your company is failing, you’re going broke, and you’re out here blowing money at the most expensive restaurant in the city!
This is pathetic!
You’re just trying to pretend you’re still rich!” Ryan’s company had been struggling lately—at least, that’s what the public-facing numbers showed.
But so what?
In five days, money wouldn’t matter anyway.
“Exactly!” Ashley seized on the opening like a shark smelling blood.
“Jessica, you dodged a bullet breaking up with this loser.
Look at him, ordering a table full of food he can’t afford!
Classic broke-guy behavior—swollen face trying to look fat, as they say!” She puffed up with self-importance.
“Actually, I know for a fact his company is done.
I work at Paramount Holdings, and I heard from my manager today that we just acquired some failing tech firm.
Bought it dirt cheap—like twenty or thirty million below normal valuation because the owner was desperate to sell.” Ashley pointed at Ryan triumphantly.
“I looked up the company name out of curiosity.
It was HIS company!
Matthews Innovation Solutions!
Sold for pennies on the dollar because it was about to go bankrupt!” Jessica’s eyes went wide.
“Wait, is that true?
Ryan, what the hell happened?
How did you run your parents’ company into the ground?!” Her voice took on that particular tone Ryan remembered so well—the one she used when she was about to lecture him while pretending it was for his own good.
“I TOLD you that you should let my brother Bradley take over as general manager!
I TOLD you that you needed to fire that old fool David and bring in fresh blood!
But no, you wouldn’t listen, and now look what happened!
The company is bankrupt!” Ryan felt his patience—already paper-thin—start to fray.
“Okay, seriously, are you two insane?” he said, setting down his fork.
“You’re standing here screaming in the middle of a nice restaurant while I’m trying to eat.
Do you not understand how basic social etiquette works?” He leaned back in his chair.
“Also, I sold my company.
MY company.
The one my parents left to ME.
What I do with it is none of your goddamn business, Jessica.
We’re not together anymore.
You don’t get a vote.” “But WHY would you—” “Oh my GOD,” Ryan muttered.
He waved over the waiter.
“Check, please.” “Ryan, I’m talking to you!” Jessica’s voice climbed higher.
“And I’m done listening,” Ryan said.
The waiter appeared with the bill, trying to maintain professional composure despite clearly being riveted by the drama.
Ryan didn’t even glance at the total—he just pulled out his black Amex and handed it over.
“Swipe it.” Ashley couldn’t help herself.
“He spent over SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS on this meal!
Jessica, he’s literally burning money while his company collapses!
This is insane!” The waiter returned with the receipt.
Ryan signed it, added a big tip, because the guy had maintained his professionalism despite the circus, and stood up.
He walked toward the exit without another word, without a backward glance, his posture radiating such complete dismissal that it was almost physically painful to witness.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
His tall frame moved through the restaurant with casual confidence, like the two women behind him didn’t exist at all.
It wasn’t until Ryan disappeared through the restaurant’s ornate entrance that Jessica seemed to deflate, her body swaying slightly.
“He…
how dare he…” Her voice came out strangled.
But it wasn’t sadness in her expression.
It was rage.
Pure, undiluted fury at being dismissed like she didn’t matter.
The puppy dog who used to follow her around, buying her whatever she wanted, dropping everything when she called—that dog had just walked away without looking back.
“Jessica, don’t let him get to you!” Ashley grabbed her arm, voice dripping with false sympathy.
“He’s obviously having some kind of breakdown.
Probably the stress of going bankrupt!
He’s just posturing, trying to make himself feel important before reality crashes down on him!” “This waste of space doesn’t deserve you anyway!
In a few days when his money runs out, he’ll come crawling back crying and begging.
You’ll see!” “Begging?” Something twisted in Jessica’s expression—something ugly and vicious.
She yanked her arm away from Ashley.
“He DESERVES to beg?
He thinks HE gets to break up with ME?” Her voice rose to a near-shriek.
“Some nobody who inherited a tech company from Mommy and Daddy thinks he’s too good for me?
I was doing HIM a favor by dating him!
He should be grateful I gave him the time of day!” Jessica’s chest heaved, her beautiful face contorting with jealousy and wounded pride.
“The ONLY reason I stayed with him this long was because he had money!
He could buy me bags, take me to nice places, pay for things!
I was THIS CLOSE to getting my brother installed as general manager—we were going to push out that old fool David, then slowly transfer all of Ryan’s assets into my family’s accounts!” “He was ALMOST convinced!
And now he pulls this shit?!” Her manicured nails dug into her palms hard enough to leave marks.
“Well, fuck him!
Even if he came crawling back on his knees, even if he begged me with tears running down his face, I’d tell him to go to hell!
A dog who doesn’t know his place needs to be put down!” “I’ve got plenty of other options.
Richer options.
Better options.
Men who would kill to date me.
Ryan Matthews is going to regret this for the rest of his pathetic life!” She was practically spitting venom now, trying desperately to salvage some scrap of her shattered ego.
Ashley watched her best friend’s meltdown with a mix of shock and morbid excitement, eagerly adding fuel to the fire with her own commentary.
The two women stood in the restaurant, drowning in their toxic spiral of insults and fantasies of revenge.
Meanwhile, Ryan was already miles away, his BMW cruising through the nighttime streets.
The city lights blurred past his windows—neon signs, streetlamps, the glowing windows of apartments where people lived their normal lives, completely unaware that everything was about to end.
The restaurant, Jessica, Ashley—all of it was already fading from his mind.
They were ghosts from a life that no longer mattered.
Dead weight from a dead timeline.
In Ryan’s calculus, they simply weren’t worth the mental energy.
An hour later, his BMW turned off the main highway and began climbing the winding road toward the Matthews Estate.
The difference between the quiet city below and what awaited him at the top of the hill was staggering.
As Ryan crested the final rise, his property came into view—and it looked like a military operation.
Dozens of massive industrial floodlights had been erected around the estate, turning night into artificial day.
The glare was so intense that Ryan had to squint as he pulled through the gates.
Giant construction equipment crowded the grounds—excavators, backhoes, cement mixers, cranes, flatbed trucks.
All of them working simultaneously, creating a cacophony of roaring engines, hydraulic hisses, and the deep thunk of heavy machinery breaking earth.
Workers in hard hats and high-visibility vests swarmed the site—easily two hundred of them, maybe more.
They moved with military precision, each crew handling a specific task in the massive orchestration of construction.
One team operated the excavators, their massive buckets tearing into the ground beneath what used to be the estate’s manicured lawn.
Another team was setting up formwork for concrete pours—the skeletal framework of what would become the fortress walls.
A third team was already laying electrical conduits and plumbing lines, working from blueprints projected onto portable screens.
The whole operation radiated organized chaos—controlled, efficient, purposeful.
This wasn’t a residential construction project.
This was building a military installation.
If you are interested can check it out.