A Revenge Most Elegant

My girlfriend, Lydia Fox, the one with the terminal illness, turned out to be the secret illegitimate daughter of a high-society dynasty from the citys Gold Coast.
And me? I was just a guy slinging fried rice from a food truck on a busy street corner.
Lydia had always been frail, or so I thought. I took care of her, gave her the best of everything I could afford.
But that day, a fleet of ten black Bentleys, sent by the Fox family, pulled up to my apartment building to welcome her back into the fold.
Without a moments hesitation, she left me behind. But she took my roommate with her.
In front of a wall of cameras, a reporter shoved a microphone in her face. Miss Fox, could you tell us your relationship with the gentleman standing before you?
Lydias voice was laced with a cool, dismissive air. Oh, him? Hes nobody. Just a caregiver I hired for a while.
Later, she became the citys untouchable heiress, the woman everyone looked up to. And I turned around and married her sworn enemy.
On our wedding night, Lydia had me kidnapped.
She cornered me, her eyes wild. Why would you marry a disfigured, ugly woman?
My voice was calm. Because she never once treated me like I was just the help.
Lydia let out a cold, sharp laugh. Youre pathetic. Truly spineless.
I nodded. Youre right. Im just that pathetic.

The day the Fox family came for her, the ten Bentleys were lined up, a silent, imposing wall blocking the narrow street to my apartment.
Reporters swarmed the area, their cameras and microphones turning our crumbling tenement building into a media circus.
I couldnt even get my food cart through the crowd after closing up for the night, so I had to walk the rest of the way.
My next-door neighbor, old Mr. Henderson, saw me and threw a friendly arm around my shoulder.
Ethan, my boy, your luck is about to change! Your Lydia is the Fox familys long-lost princess!
The old man himself sent for her! Youre going to be living the high life now!
Before I could even process what he was saying, Lydia emerged from the building, surrounded by a coterie of handlers.
I had never seen her look like that.
She wore a breathtaking designer gown, fresh off the runway. She moved with an elegance, an air of refined grace, that was completely foreign to me.
She looked like the female lead in some blockbuster romance, blessed by fortune and fate.
And standing right beside her was my roommate, Jason.
Lydias gaze fell on me. It was a different look than I was used tocold, sharp, and full of a condescending pity.
A quick-witted reporter seized the moment. Miss Fox, can you tell us your relationship with this man?
Lydias eyes slid away from me, her voice drifting over the crowd, devoid of warmth.
No relationship. Hes just a caregiver who looked after me for a while.
A collective gasp went through my neighbors.
Theyd all seen me, day in and day out, buying things for her, helping her with her physical therapy.
Everyone knew I was her boyfriend.
In an instant, I was the focal point of a hundred different starespity, mockery, morbid curiosity.
I was completely frozen.
I looked down at myselfat my ten-dollar t-shirt, my twenty-dollar canvas sneakers, the exhaustion clinging to me like a second skin.
I guess I did look like a caregiver.
But I had poured my heart and soul into looking after her for five years. Even if shed just called me her neighbor, it wouldnt have been this humiliating.
She walked towards the lead car.
Lydia thoughtfully opened the door for Jason first, letting him slide in. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned back to me.
You did take care of me for a long time. If theres anything you want, you can ask. Ill grant you one reasonable request.
Mr. Henderson nudged me frantically. Go on, kid! This is your chance! Tell her to take you with her!
But I didnt move. I just stood there, numbly holding up the small paper bag from the pharmacy.
Since youre not terminally ill, you can start by paying me back for all the medicine I bought you over the years. Oh, and living expenses.
The grand total is forty-eight thousand, six hundred dollars.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers tapping away on the calculator app as I announced the final number.
A ripple of snickers went through the crowd. They were laughing at how shortsighted I was.
Lydia was a Fox now. What was a few tens of thousands to her? If Id asked for a million, she probably would have given it to me.
Lydias brow furrowed, a complex, unreadable emotion flashing in her eyes. But it was gone in an instant. She had her assistant write me a check.
I took it. Fifty thousand dollars.
Shed even thrown in an extra fourteen hundred.
Jason, his arm now linked with hers, looked at me.
Ethan, Lydia has been more than generous with you. But from today on, you two live in different worlds. I hope that, for Lydias sake, you wont go around spreading stories that could damage her reputation.
Lydias eyes were locked on me, her lips a thin line.
I dont want anyone to know we were ever involved.
I got it. I was an embarrassment. She was afraid Id tell people she used to be my girlfriend.
She didnt need to worry. I wouldnt.
Having a girlfriend that heartless wasnt exactly something to brag about.
The convoy of Bentleys drove away, and the crowd of onlookers slowly dispersed.
Only Mr. Henderson, my closest friend in the building, was left, fuming on my behalf.
Ethan, are you an idiot? What can you do with fifty grand? You cant even buy a closet in this city with that!
My face was pale. But thats all she owed me
Falling for her was my choice.
Taking care of her was my choice, too.
I loved the wrong person. I had no one to blame but myself.
Mr. Henderson sighed heavily, poking me in the forehead and calling me a fool.
I went back to our apartment.
Everything that belonged to Lydia was gone.
Jasons things, too.
The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado, a chaotic mess they hadnt bothered to clean up.
Id worked the food truck all night and had even taken a detour to the hospital that morning to pick up Lydias so-called medicine.
Now, I was exhausted, a dead weight on the sofa, with no energy to move.
Meow
My cat, Pumpkin, whom Id rescued from the street, sat in front of me, tilting his head.
I forced myself up to feed him and then started cleaning the apartment.
That evening, I went back to the food truck alley as usual.
Without Lydias expenses, my own needs were simple. Fifty thousand dollars, at my current rate of spending, could last me twenty years.
But I wanted to buy an apartment. I wanted a place in this city that was truly my own.
My fried rice truck, parked just outside the university campus, was always the most popular spot in the alley. The students loved it.
That night, a stylishly dressed woman appeared in front of my counter.
Five orders of the house special fried rice, ten skewers of grilled chicken
My usual customers were energetic college kids. It was the first time Id seen someone who so clearly screamed old money.
I couldnt help but stare.
She was tallat least five-foot-ninewith a stunning face and an air of cool detachment. Her features were sharp and defined, giving her an almost exotic look.
A silver Porsche Cayenne was parked at the end of the alley, its headlights on. A chauffeur sat inside, presumably waiting for her.
My web-novel-addled brain immediately conjured a scene: a rich heiress buying a late-night snack for her college-aged boyfriend.
I beamed at her. Coming right up! For here or to go?
I was sure shed say to go.
I even had the takeout containers ready.
But the rich girl surprised me. For here.
Then, ignoring my stunned expression, she found an empty plastic table and sat down.
She had ordered over three hundred dollars worth of food for herself.
I cooked, bringing out dishes as they were ready.
By the time I was done, sweating and exhausted, she had cleaned every single plate.
Not bad, she said, looking up at me. How are your other cooking skills?
I paused, pointing at my own chest. Are you asking me?
Im decent with home-style cooking. I went to culinary school before I opened the truck.
The woman nodded, then pulled a business card from her designer handbag.
Are you interested in being my personal chef?
I took the card. Stella Sterling, Founder, Sterling Capital.
My expression turned wary. Ms. Sterling, youre not trying to hire me as a sugar baby, are you?
Fifteen thousand a month.
Of course, I know a woman of your stature would never do such a thing! Fifteen grand, you say? I can start tomorrow!
It wasnt that I had no pride. It was that she was offering an insane amount of money.
If I wanted to buy a place in this city, selling fried rice wasnt going to cut it. Id be working until I was in my grave.
The next day, I took the business card and went to the Sterling familys villa for my interview.
Stella herself opened the gate.
She was in a grey tracksuit, looking like shed just finished a morning run.
Seeing me standing outside the ornate iron gate, she unlocked it and let me in.
She walked ahead, arms crossed, her pace brisk. I followed a few steps behind, my pace slower.
The Sterling estate was massive. It took us a good seven or eight minutes just to walk from the main gate to the front door of the house.
As I walked, I scanned my surroundings warily, half-convinced this was some elaborate scam.
Suddenly, thump. I walked right into her back. The impact was surprisingly soft, and a pleasant, fresh scent filled my nose.
Im so sorry, Ms. Sterling! II didnt mean to!
I quickly grabbed her shoulders to steady her, apologizing profusely.
Stella had finally had enough. She spun around to face me.
You think Im some kind of con artist, dont you?
I stared at her, bewildered. Well arent you?
A laugh, tinged with frustration, escaped her. She raised a hand as if to smack me, then let it drop.
Stop calling me Ms. Sterling, she said. Take a good look at me. Dont you know who I am?
I leaned closer, studying her perfect face, then shook my head. No.
Tch
I really dont. I sell fried rice for a living. How would I know a high-society woman like you? You must have me confused with someone else.
It had to be. There was no way a fifteen-thousand-a-month job would just fall into my lap.
The rich girl had mistaken me for someone else.
Stellas jaw tightened, her smile turning menacing. Ethan Cole. Say you dont know me one more time. I dare you.
When a rich girl gets angry, the temperature drops.
I instinctively shrank back, my eyes glued to her beautiful, intense face.
And then, an image flashed in my mind: another face, one covered in burn scars.
If you took away the scars from that face
A jolt went through me. I knew, in that instant, who she was. My first instinct was to run.
The next second, her hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. She yanked me back with surprising strength.
My back hit the wall hard, and Stellas face was suddenly inches from mine.
She had me pinned, her body trapping me against the wall. She tilted her head up to look at me.
Go on, Ethan. Run.
I couldnt.
We were too close. I could feel her breath on my skin.
I didnt dare move, terrified shed think I was trying to take advantage of her.
The truth was, before Lydia, there had been someone else.
The summer I was seventeen, a new student transferred into our class.
Her name was Chloe. Her face was covered in a network of scars from a fire.
The other kids were scared of her. They avoided her, scattered when she walked by. No one would even sit at the same table with her in the cafeteria.
Behind her back, they called her the monster.
Her deskmate even demanded to be moved, claiming her face gave him nightmares.
The teacher didnt know what to do. She asked if anyone would be willing to sit with Chloe.
I saw Chloes hands, white-knuckled, gripping the edge of her desk. She was trying to hide how scared she was.
The classroom was dead silent. No one moved.
Then, I slowly raised my hand.
The class erupted in laughter.
Yeah, teacher, let Ethan sit with her!
The trash picker and the monstera perfect match!
Back then, my grandmother, who had adopted me, was still alive. She supported us by collecting recyclables.
To help her out, Id go through the trash bins after school, collecting bottles and cans.
The other kids looked down on me. They said I smelled sour.
Since the beginning of high school, Id always sat alone.
The teacher knew my situation and would scold the other kids for teasing me.
But you cant stop people from talking.
Behind my back, my nickname was the trash picker.
Now, ignoring the laughter, I clutched the hem of my shirt and asked Chloe, my voice barely a whisper:
Chloe would you be okay with me being your deskmate?
I was terrified she would be disgusted by me, too.
To my surprise, she nodded fiercely. As long as youre not scared of me, Id like that.
After that, we started spending more and more time together.
I discovered that Chloe was brilliant. She was always first in our year on every exam.
She tutored me, and I brought her the sticky rice dumplings my grandma made.
When the local bullies tried to mess with her, I grabbed a baseball bat and fought them off.
When I didnt have money for lunch, shed split her allowance with me.
In our senior year, she confessed her feelings for me. She asked me to apply to the same university as her. We planned to go to Kingswood University together.
I said yes. I put Kingswood down as my first choice.
But the night before the application deadline, I was working a catering gig at a five-star hotel. And I saw Chloe. She was there with her family.
At their table was a handsome, well-dressed boy, sitting right next to her.
When their parents went to the restroom, I overheard them talking. They were planning for the boy to go abroad with Chloe over the summer while she had reconstructive surgery on her face.
When they got back, they would announce their engagement.
I admit it. In that moment, my confidence shattered.
I went home, changed my university application, and sent Chloe a single text message. Ive fallen for someone else. Were breaking up.
Then I blocked her number. Blocked her on everything.
No one ever knew which university I ended up at.
And I never heard anything about Chloe again.
If Lydia hadnt been swarmed by reporters when she went home, I might never have known you were back in the city!
Stellas voice was tight with a barely suppressed rage.
That someone else you mentioned it was Lydia, wasnt it?
I couldnt believe it. The flimsy excuse Id used to break her heart shed held onto it all these years.
I pulled my hand free from her grasp. Whether it was or not, it has nothing to do with you anymore. We broke up, remember?
Stella looked like she was about to explode. Am I your pet? Someone you can just dump whenever you feel like it?
Just then, the main door to the villa swung open.
A handsome man in a white suit stepped out.

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