Chapter 5: Sold for Santa Monica

I didn’t think it would fall apart so soon.

When Brendan agreed to Jordan’s terms in their standoff, it felt like the floor dropped out from under me. My ears rang for a full minute before I managed to look at him in disbelief. He didn’t flinch, his eyes as gentle as ever—even though he’d just agreed to trade me for a prime piece of Santa Monica real estate, the kind of land that could make or break a billion-dollar project.

I’d been so sure he’d never go through with it. I’d even been excited to let him pick my dress for the party.

“Everyone in New York says you’re head over heels for this woman,” Jordan scoffed. “Turns out, not so much.”

Brendan asked, “Is it you who wants her, or Miss Xu?”

“Miss Xu,” Jordan shot me a look. “Bringing her around right after breaking off the engagement—pretty humiliating for Miss Xu.”

Brendan nodded. “Step outside for ten minutes.”

Jordan hesitated, but he didn’t have the leverage to argue. He left.

I blinked, slow to realize my vision was blurry with tears.

“Don’t cry,” Brendan wiped my tears, voice gentle. “You’ll go to the Xu family. I’ll call Mr. Xu—he owes me. He’ll look out for you.”

He said simply, “Miss Xu just wants you away from me. She won’t dare mess with you.”

“Why?” I choked out, asking again. “Why?”

“I negotiated for that land three times before the engagement ended. Miss Xu never budged. Now she does, because of you. The offer’s too good—I can’t turn it down.”

My tears dripped onto his palm. His hand shook, just a little.

“...Baby,” his voice was hoarse. “I’ll give you a card, set you up to study abroad. After that—” he paused, struggling, “forget me. Just think of this as a story. You’re young, you’ll have a great life.”

“Didn’t you—” I sobbed, “didn’t you say you’d always protect me?”

“Sorry,” he said after a moment. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given you that card.”

I stared at him. This man had seen too much, lived through too much. He could always be ruthless—breaking off the engagement, trading me for land. I loved the steadiness and maturity his age gave him, but I also had to accept the chill that came with it.

“Mr. Tate,” I begged in my soft LA accent, hugging him one last time. “I want to stay with you.”

His body stiffened, then he hugged me back, letting out the smallest sigh.

Jordan knocked, impatient. I wiped my tears, left his arms, and walked out without looking back.

“Mia,” Brendan called my name. In the silence, I almost believed he’d regret it. But in the end, he said nothing.

I got in Jordan’s car. The ride was silent, my tears cold against my skin. After a while, I slapped Jordan across the face.

The smack made him jerk, caught off guard.

“...Miss,” he muttered, rubbing his cheek. “Taking it out on me again, huh?”

“Who said you could use me in that deal? Did you even ask?” My palm stung with anger.

“Would it matter?” Jordan’s voice was low. “If not this, it’d be something else. If the stakes are high enough, he’ll give you up.”

His words cut deep. I trembled, nearly crying again.

“Don’t cry, superstar,” Jordan handed me a tissue. “You should’ve given up when he broke off the engagement.”

I sniffled. “I don’t want to let go.”

“He’s not worth it,” Jordan said, pulling me to his shoulder, trying to comfort me. “If you want, slap me again.”

I shook my head, spent. The five-hour flight from New York to LA passed in silence. I remembered that first meeting at Fushen Penthouse, when Brendan took my hand and asked me to stay with him for a while. That summer, only I fell hard.