Chapter 2

Elena's POV

The next morning, my phone buzzed frantically on the nightstand.

Carter had sent dozens of texts, all demanding that I hurry over.

Staring at the screen, a wave of nausea washed over my stomach.

I typed a simple text: "Not feeling well. Not going."

I locked the screen and flipped the phone face down on the desk.

Less than ten minutes later, a knock came at my door.

My mother walked in, taking my hand. "Elena, hurry up and change. Carter called the house phone."

My dad walked in behind her. "Yeah, Elena, you know how much Carter cares about this blind date. Chloe used to take private lessons at my club when she was young. I personally spoke to her father to convince them to meet."

"Carter wants you there to break the ice. Another girl in the room will keep things from being awkward. You two grew up together—if you don't back him up, who will?"

Looking at their hopeful expressions, I swallowed the raw truth back down my throat.

I nodded, changed my clothes, and headed out.

Our houses were close, just a ten-minute walk away.

Arriving at the Vance estate, I instinctively opened the shoe cabinet by the entrance.

It was completely empty.

The gray coral-fleece slippers I always wore were gone.

I searched inside; nothing was left.

Turning around, I noticed the trash can by the entryway packed to the brim.

My slippers, my rinse cup, my spare toothbrush, the pajamas I had kept at the Vance house—all discarded inside.

The maid stepped forward, handing me a pair of disposable shoe covers, whispering, "Miss Vance, Carter ordered everything thrown out first thing this morning. Please just wear these for now."

I stared at the trash can, freezing in place.

Carter used to say that the Vance house was my second home.

There had always been a bedroom reserved just for me, and every toiletry had been picked out by him personally.

We had hugged right here in this foyer, held hands under the dining table, and shared passionate kisses in the study.

Now that Chloe was back.

Terrified that she might notice even a speck of a clue, he had wiped every trace of my existence clean without hesitation.

With a blank face, I slipped the shoe covers on and walked into the living room.

On the couch, Carter was peeling fresh fruit for Chloe.

He had styled his hair today, dressed in a sharp suit, and wore the expensive cologne he usually claimed to hate.

He used to lounge around in oversized hoodies and sweatpants, kicking off his flip-flops everywhere, hating stuffy formalities.

Turns out, a man isn't naturally lazy. He just hasn't met the person he wants to present his absolute best for.

When I walked in, Carter only spared me a brief glance before turning back to chat and laugh with Chloe.

Talking about preferences, luxury brands, and old high school memories.

Carter desperately fished for topics, terrified of an awkward pause.

"High school was funny like that. You were a grade above me, and our classes weren't even in the same building, yet we bumped into each other all the time," Chloe giggled softly.

The tips of Carter's ears blushed red.

Standing off to the side, I let out a silent sneer.

There were no coincidences.

Back then, to stage those "chance encounters," Carter tracked down Chloe’s entire schedule and commute routes. I had walked right behind him, watching him pour his soul into winning over another girl.

Later, Chloe went abroad, and I thought I finally had my chance.

Six years later, the only one who got a chance was Carter.

"Back in high school, I heard Carter had an inseparable best friend. That must be you, Elena?" Chloe suddenly turned to look at me.

Before I could answer, Carter's parents chimed in warmly: "That's right! The kids grew up side by side. Such a great bond. We used to joke about arranging a match between them—"

"Mom, Dad, what nonsense are you spewing?"

Carter’s face instantly darkened, cutting them off harshly: "Even if I stay single for the rest of my life, there is no way in hell I’d ever want Elena Vance."

The air in the living room froze solid.

I lowered my eyes, then offered a polite, practiced smile.

"Mr. and Mrs. Vance, stop joking. I feel the exact same way as Carter. I could date anyone in this world, but never him."

A muscle in Carter's jaw twitched before his careless expression returned.

He stepped forward and clapped my shoulder twice, just like a bro would.

"Hear that? Pure friendship."

The tension in the living room melted, returning to its warm chatter.

Carter leaned in close to my ear, whispering barely audibly: "Thanks."

I discreetly took half a step back, widening the gap between us.

I didn't need his thanks.

Because every single word I just said was 100% genuine.