Chapter 1

My best friend stole my girlfriend. Five years later, I showed up to remodel their wedding house.

Susan clung to Ethan's arm, glaring at me like I was dirt. "Get out. You're soiling my new home."

He laughed and threw a stack of cash at my feet. "For the help, loser."

I didn't bend down.

My gaze swept past them and fixed on the massive design rendering in the living room. It was clearly "Homecoming," the same piece I had spent three sleepless months drawing for Susan five years ago.

Now, the signature simply read "Design by Ethan."

I stepped on the bills and sneered.

"A thief's final destination is prison."

Ethan's smile froze instantly.

He had no idea.

I'd already prepared a very special wedding gift for them next week.

Jason's POV

At two in the morning, I sat in my moldy rental room, holding a package of expired bread.

The dim light from my phone screen stung my eyes, but I couldn't look away.

The top trending post felt like a rusty nail, driving straight into my eyeballs.

The title read: "I stole my best friend's girlfriend-do I regret it now?"

The anonymous poster's answer had the most upvotes.

"Why would I regret it? It's been absolutely amazing."

"Five years ago, that guy was a stubborn genius. Handsome, smart, and childhood friends with this rich girl. Everyone thought they were the perfect match."

"So what? I just used a few tricks."

"First, I pretended to be depressed and used that to get close to her through sympathy. Then at a party, I deliberately provoked him until he hit me. I fell onto broken glass on purpose, blood everywhere, then acted magnanimous and forgave him."

"The girl went ballistic. She thought he was violent, unstable, completely unreasonable."

"While they were fighting, I brought her coffee every day, kept her company, played the victim. And him? He was still working multiple jobs like an idiot to buy her gifts, exhausted like a dog, didn't even get a chance to explain."

"Then came the final move. I tampered with his university application and framed his gambling addict father for it. He fell apart, didn't get into Oxford, and his life went straight into the gutter."

"Now? That rich girl is my fiancée. We're not just partners in a publicly traded company-next week we're having the wedding of the century."

"And that former genius? I heard he's working construction now. That's what they mean by choices matter more than effort. What good is a high IQ? Emotional intelligence is king."

The comment section exploded.

Some cursed him out.

"You're shameless. Destroying someone's relationship and being proud of it?"

Others sucked up to him.

"He's just smart. If the guy couldn't keep his girl, whose fault is that?"

"Exactly. If a lover can be stolen, they weren't really yours."

Reading these words, I felt my blood flowing backward, my fingers trembling uncontrollably.

Not from anger, but from disgust.

Even more so because of a blurry silhouette photo the poster had shared.

It was from five years ago, on Susan's birthday, a picture of me carrying her on my back under the fireworks.

Only three people had this photo.

Me, Susan, and Ethan, who had been holding the camera with that innocent smile on his face.

I set down my phone, my stomach cramping, and rushed to the narrow bathroom to dry heave.

So that was it.

That inexplicably failed first love of mine, my ruined life caused by someone tampering with my application, these five years of living like a dog-it was all Ethan's carefully designed trap.

And Susan, the woman I'd loved for ten whole years, was about to marry the man who destroyed me.

Suddenly, urgent knocking came from outside.

"Jason! Open up! I know you're in there!"

It was the landlord.

I wiped the cold water off my face and opened the door.

The landlord looked fierce, jabbing a finger at my nose.

"You're three days late! When are you paying rent? I bet your vegetative mother is about to get thrown out of the hospital too, right? If you don't have money, get lost. Stop squatting here!"

"Tomorrow."

My voice was hoarse.

"I'll definitely pay tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, tomorrow, always tomorrow! If you don't pay up, I'm throwing out all those crappy blueprints of yours!"

I closed the door and slid down against it, powerless.

Ethan was right in that post.

He won. He became a winner in life.

And me, Jason-I really did end up in the gutter.

These five years, I didn't go to college. To earn medical bills for my mother who became a vegetable after a car accident, I did hard labor, delivered food.

Now I was the lowest level construction worker at a renovation company.

That high-spirited Jason who vowed to design world landmark buildings-he died long ago.

But I never imagined the "cause of death" would be so absurd.

I wanted to laugh, but tears came out instead.

Just then, my boss called.

"Jason, urgent job tomorrow. That wedding house in Cloudcrest Villa-the owners are coming to inspect and want some design changes. The original designer bailed, and you're capable, so you're up. Pull this off, and there's a three-thousand-dollar bonus in it for you."

Cloudcrest Villa.

The most expensive rich district in the city.

"Okay."

I agreed.

For the three thousand dollars. For the ventilator that would keep my mother breathing next week.

I had no choice.

Even though I knew, deep down, that house was almost certainly Susan and Ethan's.