Chapter 2: Confessions and Cruel Realities

Standing close to Ethan, I could feel my own nerves prickling. I took a small step back, suddenly aware of how intimidating his new presence was—my shoulders tensed, and I tried not to let him see me flinch.

He stood taller now, posture rigid, with a gravity that didn’t belong on a kid fresh out of high school. The faint scent of his cologne—clean, sharp, with a hint of something smoky—lingered in the air between us, mixing with the cold blast of the office AC and the tension that made my skin crawl.

That was the kind of confidence that comes from years spent in the right country clubs—places like Phillips Exeter or the Harvard Club—where you either inherit your way in or claw your way up. I recognized it because I’d worn it my whole life, a second skin stitched from trust funds and Ivy League prep.

It’s a look you can’t fake—one I’d learned to spot at every debutante ball and alumni mixer. Ethan’s eyes said he’d been both the outsider and the insider, and now he was done pretending for anyone.

He shot a glance at the platinum card in my hand, his lip curling in disdain. He spoke, voice flat and clipped:

"I told you, I’ll pay my own way. I don’t need your money messing with my pride."

His words hit like a slap, the room shrinking around us as people tried to look busy while hanging on every syllable. I felt my cheeks flush, but I gripped the card tighter, refusing to show any weakness.

Without another word, he walked right past me and pulled Lily Martinez into a sudden embrace.

He moved like he’d done it a hundred times, even though I knew he hadn’t. Lily’s eyes went wide with shock, but then she melted into him, relief and disbelief mixing on her face. Around us, the gossip mill spun faster than ever.

He hugged her like she was the prize at the end of a long, hard race—desperate, hopeful, and just a little reckless. For a second, I almost felt bad for crashing their reunion.

"Lily, after everything, I finally get it. The person I love most in this world is you."

His voice cracked on her name, the words hanging heavy and final in the air. Someone behind me actually gasped out loud.

A chorus of gasps and whispers rippled through the office. A girl at the front desk covered her mouth, her eyes huge. I caught a guy by the vending machine mutter, "Damn, is this for real?" Even the older admissions officer—gray hair, glasses perched on her nose—watched with a bemused, knowing smile, like she’d seen every kind of drama in her day.

The comments on my phone blew up again, scrolling so fast I could barely read:

[OMG! The male lead is wild, confessing right after being reborn!]

[No more games, he’s all in.]

[Villainous rich girl just got owned. Last time, he took her platinum card and dated her for the money. Now, her cash means nothing!]

My phone buzzed with a fresh wave of notifications. I fought the urge to hurl it across the room. Let them watch—let them think they know how this ends.