Chapter 2Her Fake Death Made Me Run Away With the Fortune

If Matthew wasn't going, I was going by myself.

I had been dying to eat at this restaurant for ages, but getting a table was notoriously impossible.

Just last week, while I was giving Timmy his weekly report on Matthew's mental state...

I casually mentioned, "Mr. Hayes, getting a table at the restaurant on the top floor of the Apex Tower is literally impossible. Do you happen to have any connections?"

Timmy put down his pen, looked up at me, and asked abruptly, "Have you mentioned this to Matthew?"

I nodded. "He said if it's too much trouble to book, we should just drop it. He said all fine dining tastes the same anyway. But the interior design there is gorgeous, and I really wanted to see it."

Timmy took a slow sip of his black coffee, his face completely expressionless.

Then he made a single phone call.

A second later, a reservation confirmation popped up on my phone.

...

"Miss Winters?"

A male voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality.

I lowered my wine glass and looked up. It was the manager from the wedding planning agency I had been in contact with.

I offered a polite smile. "You're dining here tonight as well?"

He looked at me for a few seconds, cleared his throat awkwardly, and lowered his voice to probe. "Are things... alright between you and Mr. Hayes?"

"Excuse me?" I feigned perfect confusion.

"Mr. Hayes's assistant contacted me. All wedding preparations and venue designs are being put on hold indefinitely." The man hesitated. "Specifically, everything regarding the bride."

I fully understood why he was panicking. I gave him a comforting smile. "Don't worry. The wedding isn't being canceled."

It was a multi-million dollar contract. Nobody wanted to lose that commission.

The manager blinked, swallowing the reassurance, and instantly broke into a massive grin.

"Well then, congratulations in advance to you and Mr. Hayes!"

The wedding wasn't going to be canceled. The bride was just being swapped out.

I didn't bother explaining the details. After the manager walked away, I started playing with my silverware out of pure boredom.

Suddenly, I caught sight of two figures sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows. I looked over, and my entire body froze in the chair.

It was Matthew.

He was sitting facing me, but his eyes were completely glued to the woman sitting across from him.

Her delicate, slender back.

It only took one glance for me to know exactly who she was. After all, I had spent countless hours staring at photos of her, perfectly mimicking her every posture and expression.

A waiter arrived to drop off an appetizer.

I pointed discreetly across the room. "I tried booking that specific table for months and couldn't get it. Did they just pay a massive premium?"

I only complained casually, not actually expecting an answer. High-end staff were trained to guard their clients' privacy with their lives.

To my surprise, the waiter chuckled softly. "Well, this restaurant operates under the Hayes Corporation. That gentleman over there is the young master of the family. He sits wherever he pleases with a single word."

I sat there, completely stunned.

No wonder...

When I told Timmy about this place, he gave me this incredibly unreadable look. Then, with one phone call, the table was mine.

And Matthew? He couldn't even be bothered to make that one single phone call for me.

I had complained to him so many times about failing to get a reservation here.

He would just pull me into his lap, casually playing with my earring, lazily admiring the disappointment on my face.

"Oh, you poor thing. Can't even get the dinner you want."

But then again, that was exactly how he always treated me.

No respect, no equality. I was just a pet he could mold and tease whenever he felt like it.

For example...

I sat quietly, watching the two of them across the room.

Matthew would never sit across the table from me.

He always demanded I sit right next to him, just so he could easily pull me into his arms and mess with me.

He would never politely pour me a glass of wine and engage in a serious, mature conversation.

He would just press his own wine glass against my lips and lazily threaten, "Not going to drink it? Do you want me to feed it to you from my mouth?"

Honestly, I never really wanted his respect anyway.

I always knew exactly where I stood.

But seeing him act like a perfect gentleman with her right in front of my eyes still left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth.