Chapter 4Not Mr. Right

That night, Charles didn't come home.

Not one message, not one call.

The next morning, I called my parents. "Mom, Dad. I've changed grooms."

They didn't ask a single question. They just laughed.

"We always thought something was going on between Charles and that Maia. Long past time you traded him in. If you hadn't been so taken with him, we'd never have given a smooth-talking player like that a second look."

They weren't wrong. What my parents had seen at a glance had taken me years to see for myself.

No wonder Maia had sent me a photo that morning of the two of them, heads together on the same pillow, with a smirk tacked onto the message: [Guess what happened between us last night.]

I took a deep breath and powered off my phone.

The moment I stepped off the elevator, the HR director tagged me in the group chat.

[The SE project led by Jude Barrymore is suspected of design plagiarism and misappropriating another employee's work. The company has decided to terminate Jude Barrymore's position effective immediately, with a permanent ban on rehiring.]

The message wasn't long, but I stood there staring at it for a full several minutes.

Laughter erupted all around me.

"So the self-proclaimed design team lead was a serial plagiarist this whole time. Reported by her own best friend, no less — that pretty much confirms it."

"And to think Mr. Garth was going to marry her. Why would anyone marry a thief like that? Disgusting."

I listened to the contempt, the insults, my feet nailed to the floor.

Maia pressed a cup of water into my hand, her eyes red. "Jude, it's all over now. I won't hold the plagiarism against you. Things between us can go back to normal."

She said the words like nothing had changed, but the smile at the corners of her mouth was stretched nearly to her ears.

I held my breath and stared straight at her. "Why?"

She leaned in close to my ear, smiling, and dropped her voice. "You should get the hell out of Rumina City, hand over Charles, the project, and the wedding to me. This is what a loser deserves."

"What makes you so sure you've won?"

She let out a short laugh. "Don't believe me? Just wait and see."

That was when someone jumped in to accuse me. "Jude used her so-called friendship to steal Maia's design. Firing her isn't enough; she needs to apologize publicly, right now!"

"Exactly! A thief, a parasite like that should be blacklisted across the whole industry! Make sure she never finds work again. Let's see her plagiarize after that!"

I opened my mouth to argue back.

Charles came out of the programming department and stepped in front of me, every inch the protector.

Something warm rose in my chest, and I was just about to say "I didn't do it" when he suddenly turned to face me instead, gripping my wrist.

"Jude, just apologize. If you copied her work, you copied it. If you're genuinely sorry, Maia won't hold it against you. And our wedding will still go ahead as planned."

Whatever warmth had been building in my chest scattered before it ever came together.

Sunlight slanted across his handsome features from the window, familiar and, at the same time, like looking at a total stranger.

Back when I'd first started at the company, a senior colleague had tried to steal credit for my design work. Charles had marched straight to the CEO's office with his employee badge in hand, willing to throw away his own job just to get me justice. Back then he hadn't even had a title yet — just a senior programmer with nothing to his name.

Now, he was part of company leadership, someone whose word carried weight, and he was standing here asking me to apologize for a crime I hadn't committed.

I wrenched my hand free and stumbled back a step, my lips trembling. "I didn't do it."

He went quiet for a moment, then looked back up at me, his voice low. "I know. But since you won't give up the credit voluntarily, this is the only way left."

A roar went off in my ears.

My throat closed up like it had been slit clean through. I couldn't get a single word out.

Seeing how badly I was shaking, Charles looked almost pained. He stepped closer, his eyes burning into mine.

"Even if you lose your job, you've still got your parents. You've still got me. We can support you.

"But Maia has nothing. If you just admit to the plagiarism, the design director position goes to her."

Those lips of his had kissed me more times than I could count, had whispered endless declarations of love to me. Now, they opened and closed, and every word out of them was a knife to the heart.

I pried his fingers off me one by one, my voice hoarse. "I won't admit to it."

"You have to!" A flash of impatience crossed Charles's eyes.

He pointed at Maia. "You had acute appendicitis once. If she hadn't saved you, you'd have died from the pain. You owe her this."

His face had gone cold, every word a blade.

Maia put on a wounded expression, but there was laughter hiding behind her eyes.

All around me, the crowd kept shouting for my apology.

I closed my eyes and said, "Fine. I apologize. I plagiarized. I'm a thief."

Then I bowed to a triumphant, beaming Maia.

Consider it repayment for the debt I owed her all those years ago.

By the time I carried my box of belongings out of the building, a Maybach was already waiting by the curb. I looked back once, up at the thirty-fifth floor, then ducked inside and sat down.

Almost the same instant, a text from Charles popped up on my phone.

[The day after tomorrow, I'll be waiting for you at the wedding venue.]

I typed back a few words. [No need. You aren't my groom.]