I Dumped My Poor Boyfriend, Became Rich—He Said Regrets Chapter 05

I Dumped My Poor Boyfriend, Became Rich—He Said Regrets Chapter 05

The lounge was just my night hustle; I still had a regular corporate job during the day.

On Monday, a high-profile client arrived at our firm. My coworkers were already gossiping in the breakroom. “I heard this guy is an absolute prodigy. Word is, he built the core algorithm of his tracking system just to find someone.”

“Seriously? Find who?”

“An ex-girlfriend, probably.”

My heart skipped a beat, a cold dread creeping up my spine.

“Did he ever find her?”

“Who knows? The software is still in beta, but venture capitalists are throwing ungodly amounts of money at it. Our CEO is practically begging for a partnership.”

I organized my files and walked toward the conference room. Through the frosted glass, Ethan’s voice drifted out.

“Regarding the partnership, I’ll need to reconsider.”

I pushed the door open and placed the documents on the table. Ethan’s gaze instantly locked onto me, burning with an intense fury. “What are you doing here?”

“Working, Mr. Hayes. This is my job.”

Our CEO, Mr. Reynolds, blinked, confused. “Veronica, you and Mr. Hayes know each other?”

I chose my words carefully. “We’ve met.”

“Just met?” Ethan snapped, his anger boiling over.

I had no idea what he was so furious about. On the day we broke up, he walked away without looking back. Why was he acting like the victim now?

He pointed directly at me. “Mr. Reynolds, I’ll sign the contract on one condition. Transfer Veronica to my team as my personal assistant.”

The CEO agreed instantly, not giving me a single second to protest.

They spent the entire day ironing out details. By evening, the clock struck five, and I packed my bag to leave immediately. Ethan blocked my path at the exit. “Where do you think you’re going? I didn’t say you could leave.”

“Mr. Hayes, I can’t do overtime today. I have prior commitments.”

“What commitments?”

“I have a DoorDash shift to catch.”

Ethan stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

I couldn’t blame him. I used to be the kind of pampered girl who wouldn’t even touch a takeout bag, let alone deliver one.

Back in college, Ethan spent every evening running deliveries. His dinner was almost always a cold, greasy burger provided by the cheap diner he worked for. I remembered visiting his tiny, cramped room once. He was packed in there with a bunch of other delivery drivers, eating out of a styrofoam container.

I had wrinkled my nose. “Ethan, how can you eat that? It’s so unsanitary.”

His expression had stiffened, raw shame flashing in his eyes. “Does it matter?”

“Come on, let’s get a real dinner.”

I had dragged him to a high-end steakhouse in Manhattan where the tasting menu was hundreds of dollars a head.

He had stood outside the restaurant for a long time, staring at the white tablecloths before slowly peeling off his delivery vest in absolute silence.

It wasn’t until my own world shattered that I finally understood what he was feeling that night. Exactly what I was feeling right now.

Outside, it started to snow.

The roads were slick with ice. My scooter skidded, and I went down hard, the food containers slamming onto the pavement and splitting open.

I scrambled to call the customer, apologizing profusely, only to be met with a barrage of screaming insults. “No excuses! You’re late, period!”

The scraped skin on my palms burned like hellfire in the freezing wind, but I didn’t care. I just kept saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly, a pair of hands lifted my scooter off the ground. It was Ethan.

I didn’t know how long he’d been following me, or how much he’d seen. I instinctively tucked my bleeding hands behind my back.

“Don’t hide them,” he rasped, his eyes bloodshot and raw. “Go wash them out.”

“I have to finish the delivery.”

“Get in the car. I’m driving you.”

The customer lived on the ground floor. When I handed over the ruined meal, the guy grunted, “What the hell? People are driving Porsches to deliver DoorDash now?”

I turned to check my phone for the next order. Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Stop.”

“I can’t. I haven’t made enough tonight.”

“Then I’m buying it.”

“What?”

A chime pinged from my phone.

Because of the close distance, the system automatically accepted the huge order from the person next to me.

“I’m buying the rest of your night, Veronica.”