Three years after graduation, I received an exclusive invitation from the heads of New York’s five most powerful dynasties. I was supposed to board a flight to the Maldives to attend a joint birthday gala, where I would finally choose one of my five prospective fiancés. Instead, I boarded the wrong plane. The moment I stepped into the cabin, I realized it was filled entirely with my old college classmates. Sitting right in the center, nursing a glass of scotch, was Christian Blake—my boyfriend of three years during university. Clinging to his arm was Pamela Perry, the underclassman who used to trail behind him like a shadow back then. She leaned into his chest, her laugh dripping with performative sweetness. “See? I told you. If we posted about the trip in the alumni group, she’d see Christian’s name and come running.” Another classmate quickly chimed in, laughing. “Was playing his lovesick puppy for three years not enough for her? Too bad Christian is about to marry Pamela.” “Exactly! If it weren’t for Pamela, how else would any of us get to fly private to the Maldives for a high-society gala?” “Maeve got lucky. She actually gets to see how the other half lives because of us.” Every eye in the cabin pinned me down, filled with the same lazy assumption: I was here to beg for Christian’s attention. Again. Christian looked at me, a familiar flash of exhausted irritation crossing his handsome face. “I’ve spent the last three years avoiding you, Maeve. Haven’t you gotten the hint yet?” He sighed, his voice dropping into that familiar, condescending tone. “I’m getting married. My fiancée is the underclassman who chased me throughout college. She’s the heiress to the Perry dynasty. You don’t stand a chance anymore.” The Perry family of New York? I paused. If I remembered correctly, the very first bachelor on my matchmaking list—the one who had been sending me hand-written letters for months—was Charles Perry, the current patriarch of that exact family. 1 “I’m on the wrong plane,” I said, my voice flat as I stepped backward. The gala was scheduled to start in four hours. If I didn’t get off this aircraft immediately, I wouldn’t make it to my own introduction. I turned to the flight attendant to explain the situation, but she offered a tight, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. The doors are already sealed, and we’ve been cleared for taxiing. We can’t reopen the cabin.” “But my actual flight is literally parked on the adjacent runway,” I pressed. “Can’t we coordinate a transfer?” A burst of mocking laughter erupted from the main cabin. “Oh, come on, Maeve! Stop acting. Just admit you wanted to stalk him. You’re here, so just own up to it.” “Seriously. Do you even know whose plane is parked next to us? Word on the street is that it belongs to New York’s most coveted bachelorette—a woman worth billions. That jet was custom-built for her. Did you really think you could pretend to be her?” “She probably wanted to make a grand entrance, but ended up looking like a total fraud, haha.” The whispers and snickers drifted over the leather seats. Before I could speak, Christian frowned, cutting off the noise with a sharp wave of his hand. “Enough.” He looked at me, his gaze heavy with pity. “Since you’re already here, just sit down. Stop making up excuses to save face. But let me make one thing absolutely clear: no matter how much you cling to me on this trip, we are never getting back together.” Pamela’s smile grew sharper, her eyes glittering with malice. “Exactly, Maeve. Is this your first time on a private jet? Do you even know how to find your seat? Stop standing there making a scene and sit down.” “Yeah! Our destination is the Maldives!” another classmate added eagerly. “Pamela is taking us to the joint engagement gala of the five great dynasties. It’s the event of the decade!” My hand, which had been reaching into my bag for my phone, froze. The joint engagement gala? If our destination was the exact same resort, there was no need to force a transfer. It would save me the hassle of rearranging my flight plan anyway. Besides, those five clingy bachelors had been calling me all night, complaining about how much they missed me. “It’s really no big deal,” Pamela boasted, sliding her hand down Christian’s arm and tilting her chin up at me. “Christian is going to be a Perry soon. Taking a few old classmates on a trip is the least I can do.” I didn’t even look at her. My phone was vibrating continuously in my palm. In our private group chat—playfully named The Five Knights Guarding the Rose—hundreds of messages and dozens of missed calls were piling up. They were all asking why I hadn’t boarded my flight yet. I stood up and walked toward the quieter second-class cabin to take the call. The moment I pressed accept, the frantic voice of Charles Perry filled the receiver. “Maeve? What happened? Are you okay? Where are you? Tell me you’re safe.” “We’ve been worried sick,” another voice joined in—it was Oliver, the Oscar-winning actor who usually possessed absolute poise but now sounded entirely unraveled. “I’m ready to order a search-and-rescue team. Just give us the word.” “I’m fine, boys,” I said, a soft smile tugging at my lips as I pacified my five clingy suitors. “I ran into a minor scheduling mix-up, but I’m on my way. I’ll arrive on time.” “If anything goes wrong, you tell me immediately,” Charles insisted, his tone protective. “I promise.” I hung up and walked back into the main cabin. They had started playing Truth or Dare, and the empty champagne bottle had just stopped spinning, pointing directly at Pamela. “Truth,” she declared, blushing prettily as she leaned her head against Christian’s shoulder. 2 In truth, my breakup with Christian hadn’t been clean. We had both been scholarship students at Hudson University, but where I was just a quiet, average girl who kept her head down in her books, Christian was the campus’s untouchable golden boy. Everyone praised his work ethic and intelligence. He spent every waking hour either working part-time jobs or studying in the library. I genuinely believed we were cut from the same cloth. When we worked together as servers at a local diner, he had to call out one day because of a severe stomach ulcer. I pulled a double shift to cover for him so he wouldn’t lose his job. The next afternoon, he was waiting outside my dorm building. He handed me a bag of warm blueberry muffins from the corner bakery. “Thank you,” he had said, his voice quiet. He was incredibly handsome, and under the romantic, naive haze of college life, it didn’t take long for me to fall for him. I handed out flyers with him in the freezing rain. I took on extra tutoring gigs to help him pay his rent. Once, when he caught a terrible flu, I skipped the most important lecture of the semester—held by the department’s strictest professor—just to stay by his bedside and nurse him. I ended up on academic probation for it. That was how I became known across campus as Christian Blake’s pathetic, lovesick shadow. But I hadn’t cared. In my mind, Christian loved me too. He would wait for me outside my classrooms, and whenever I had cramps, he would brew herbal tea and bring it to my desk. On Valentine’s Day of our freshman year, I gathered the courage to confess my feelings, fully prepared for rejection. Instead, he accepted. “Maeve,” he had said, looking into my eyes, “you’re different from the others. You actually care about me. You choose me over everything else. If you like me, then I like you too.” That day was probably the happiest day of my early twenties. And afterward? I cut the memory short. The raucous cheering of our old classmates dragged me back to the present. “Pamela, tell us! When did you and Christian officially start dating?” Pamela shot a quick, performative glance in my direction, pretending to blush. “Oh, stop it, guys! Maeve is right here. You’re being so inappropriate…” “Oh, please. They broke up years ago,” a girl sitting nearby scoffed. “Maeve, you wouldn’t mind, right?” I shook my head, my expression entirely vacant. “Not at all.” The cabin went momentarily silent. “Really? You don’t mind?” “No,” I replied, meeting Christian’s eyes. “Why would I? We’re just old classmates.” The moment the words left my mouth, Christian’s face darkened. It was the exact phrase he had used during our very first fight about Pamela back in college. “Then tell us, Pamela! When did it start?” “Junior year,” Pamela said softly. “Right around graduation prep.” Junior year. That was well before we broke up, back when Christian and I were supposedly still trying to make things work. Someone in the back raised a hand, a smirk playing on their lips. “Wait, but wasn’t there a photo leaked sophomore year of you two having a romantic dinner at that upscale bistro?” Pamela’s blush deepened. “Oh, well… he was actually pursuing me back then.” A collective murmur ran through the cabin. “If I remember correctly,” one of the guys whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, “wasn’t Maeve still dating him sophomore year?” A barrage of pitying, contemptuous stares landed on me. I remained silent, but Christian finally intervened, his voice tight. “Alright, that’s enough. Next question.” The bottle spun again. This time, it slowed down and pointed directly at me. “Truth,” I said. “Since graduation, have you had a boyfriend?” I shook my head. “No.” “See? I told you!” a classmate whispered gleefully to her friend. “She’s still single, probably holding onto some delusional hope of getting back with Christian.” I paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat, before adding calmly, “But I do have a fiancé.” 3 “A fiancé? Please,” a voice sneered from the corner. “You vanished right after graduation. And looking at how plain you dress, who would honestly want you?” I glanced down at my outfit. It was a custom-designed piece made by a world-renowned master couturier, commissioned privately by Charles Perry. If they knew the single jacket I was wearing cost upwards of a hundred thousand dollars, would they still call it plain? I chose not to correct them. We were no longer living in the same stratosphere. Excusing myself on the pretext of feeling a bit airsick, I left the game and walked toward the window at the back of the cabin to look out at the clouds. Before my seat could even cool down, Pamela followed me. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” she whispered, her voice laced with venom. “What?” I asked, not bothering to turn around. “Christian was mine as early as sophomore year,” she whispered, stepping closer. “He told me you were like cheap clay—coarse, unrefined, and completely devoid of ambition. He said you were a drag on his future. He chose me because I could actually give him a leg up in life.” She leaned in, her eyes wild with a strange, possessive fury. “Why are you so pathetic, Maeve? How dare you show up in front of him again?” I knew exactly what Christian’s ambitions were. A man who had fought his way up from the very bottom was never going to settle for an ordinary girl. That was why, when I caught them together during our junior year, I hadn’t even been surprised. And when he finally initiated the breakup, I hadn’t begged. Everyone assumed I was biding my time, waiting to crawl back to him like a kicked dog. But instead, I had simply vanished for three years. Looking at Pamela’s tense, defensive posture, I realized her anger didn’t stem from superiority. She was furious because Christian had intervened twice to stop the class from mocking me. She was taking her insecurity out on me. “What are you so afraid of?” I asked, turning to face her calmly. “Are you afraid he’ll leave you for me?” “In your dreams!” “Then why are you standing here talking to me?” Pamela gritted her teeth. “I’m warning you, Maeve. Stay away from him.” I took a step forward, forcing her back slightly. “You sent the invitation to the alumni group, not me. I haven’t said a single word to him since I boarded this plane. And as I said, I have a fiancé.” I paused, letting a small smile play on my lips. “In fact, he’s someone you might actually know.” Pamela’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What kind of garbage are you spewing? Don’t think I don’t see through you. You fabricated a fiancé just to save face in front of Christian.” “Whether it’s a lie or not, you’ll find out once we land in the Maldives.” I walked past her, intending to head back to my lounge chair. But Pamela, consumed by frustration, lunged forward and grabbed my arm. “Stop acting so high and mighty with me! You think you can just—ah!” Her five-inch stilettos caught on the plush carpet, and she lost her footing, tumbling forward. I reacted instantly, stepping aside to avoid the collision. The heavy thud of her fall echoed through the cabin, drawing the attention of the entire first-class section. Christian was the first to rush in. He immediately gathered Pamela in his arms, turning a furious, accusatory gaze on me. “Even if you’re bitter, Maeve, you shouldn’t have pushed her!” “Christian, it hurts…” Pamela sobbed, clutching her ankle. “Do you honestly think pulling a stunt like this will make me regret my choices?” Christian hissed, his eyes burning with disgust. “It only makes me loathe you more.” I didn’t say a word. The scene felt like a cheap rerun. Years ago, when I first confronted him about Pamela’s constant interference in our relationship, he had shielded her in the exact same way. “Pamela is just an underclassman, Maeve. You don’t need to let your jealousy warp your perception of her.” Jealousy? And yet, here they were, engaged. “I didn’t push her,” I said, my voice entirely devoid of emotion. “There was no one else back here besides the two of you!” Christian yelled. I looked at him, completely detached. “Strictly speaking, I have absolutely no reason to hurt her. After all, she’s about to become my family.” Christian’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” “Her older brother is my fiancé.” Pamela immediately shrieked from his arms, “My brother? That’s impossible! Maeve, stop lying through your teeth!” “Exactly,” a classmate added, peering over Christian’s shoulder. “The Perry family is elite royalty. They wouldn’t even let someone like you clean their floors, let alone marry into their line.” “If you don’t believe me,” I said calmly, “feel free to look up the financial news.” Christian’s jaw clenched. “Fine. You want to play this out? Search it. Let’s see how you explain yourself when the truth comes out.” Someone in the cabin immediately pulled out their phone and typed into the search bar. But as the page loaded, the classmate’s face went entirely pale. “Christian…” the classmate stammered, their voice trembling. “The woman the Perry heir has been publicly courting for the last five years… it really looks like Maeve.” 4 Christian’s brow furrowed deep as he snatched the phone from the classmate’s hand. On the screen was a high-resolution press photo from a charity gala. It depicted five exceptionally powerful men surrounding a single woman like a queen. She wore a diamond tiara and an exquisite couture gown. But what arrested his attention was her face—specifically, the tiny, distinct beauty mark just beneath her left eye. It was identical to mine. “This can’t be real,” Christian whispered, his grip tightening on the phone. Pamela let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “I’ve never once heard my brother mention having a fiancée. Maeve, you want to climb the social ladder so badly that you’ve resorted to Photoshop? You should look in a mirror before trying to pass yourself off as an heiress.” My connection to the five dynasties was indeed kept out of the mainstream tabloids. Given my professional standing, my privacy was heavily protected. “Maeve, there’s no need to carry on with this farce,” Christian said, looking at me with a trace of the condescending pity he used to show during our final months together. “Playing hard to get like this isn’t going to work on me anymore.” It reminded me of the first time he stopped replying to my messages during our senior year. After twenty-four hours of silence, I had desperately posted a photo with a male classmate on my social media, hoping to elicit some reaction. Christian had replied instantly, but his words were cold: “You’re disgusting. If you’re going to run around with other guys, we’re done.” I had spent days begging for his forgiveness, explaining that it was a stupid, childish attempt to get his attention. He clearly thought this was the exact same trick. “Forget it, Christian,” Pamela said, brushing her knees off as she stood up. “It’s only natural she can’t let you go. After all, a woman like her doesn’t have many options left.” She shot me a dismissive look. “You should be thanking me, Maeve. The Maldives isn’t the kind of place a commoner like you could ever afford on her own.” Once they walked away, I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Charles Perry. Do you have a stepsister? His reply was almost instantaneous. Yes, my stepmother’s daughter. She’s incredibly entitled. I heard she was flying out to the Maldives today with her fiancé. Why do you ask, Maeve? What if I told you her fiancé is my ex-boyfriend? The chat went silent for a long moment. Then, Charles sent a screenshot of an email he had just forwarded to his father, demanding that Pamela and her mother be stripped of their trust fund access and cut off from the Perry name. Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone disrespect you. I didn’t reply. To Pamela and the others, I was nothing more than an ambitious girl trying to claw her way up. They had no idea that after graduation, I had established myself as a legendary wealth manager. Every portfolio that passed through my hands yielded exponential returns within months. That was the real reason the five dynasties were competing for my hand. As for Christian? The moment he chose Pamela, he ceased to exist to me. A good horse doesn’t return to a broken stable. When the plane finally touched down, the private runway was lined with a fleet of pristine, high-end town cars, surrounded by security personnel bearing the crests of the five dynasties. My classmates gasped as they looked out the windows. “This is insane… Who is this woman? She must have hit the jackpot to have all five families waiting for her.” “Look at those custom Rolls-Royces. They cost millions.” “Her personal net worth is actually higher than all five families combined,” I murmured, staring out the window. Several heads snapped toward me. Christian’s jaw tightened. “Maeve, what absolute nonsense are you spouting now?” “I’m telling you the truth. Her dowry alone is worth billions.” A classmate scoffed loudly. “Have you ever even seen a billion dollars? Did you spend the last three years washing dishes in some diner? Any single car out there is worth more than you’ll earn in three lifetimes.” Pamela took Christian’s hand, offering me a sweet, patronizing smile. “Guys, don’t tease Maeve. People can’t choose their birth. Not everyone is as blessed as I am to be born into a family like the Perrys.” I let out a soft laugh. “Is that so? Because I don’t recall the late Mrs. Perry ever having a daughter. Whose child are you, exactly?” I had done my research before the trip. After the first Mrs. Perry passed away, Mr. Perry remarried a woman who brought her own daughter into the household. Pamela carried absolutely none of the Perry bloodline. Pamela’s face turned instantly pale. “What… what lies are you spreading?” “Yeah!” a classmate defended her. “We’ve seen the influence Pamela has. How could she not be a real Perry?” I nodded slowly. “Oh, she is. If you count stepchildren.” “Maeve! That’s enough!” Christian barked. “You haven’t changed at all. Back in college, you were so jealous of Pamela’s academic achievements that you accused her of stealing credit. Now you’re fabricating rumors about her family. You even faked a photo with her brother. What other pathetic tricks do you have up your sleeve?” Looking at him, seeing the fierce protectiveness he offered to a fraud while reducing me to nothing, I simply smiled. I unlocked my phone, opened my contact list, and turned the screen toward Pamela. “Pamela,” I said softly, “surely you recognize your own brother’s private, unlisted number?” Staring at the contact pinned at the very top of my list, Pamela went entirely still.
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