My Rival Is My Biggest Fan

Every time Parker Cole abandoned me for Hannah Sinclair, she made it a point to rub it in my face.

Tonight was no exception.

Happy Birthday, Bonnie. How does it feel to celebrate all by yourself?

Just as I was about to hang up the phone, a line of glowing text drifted across my field of vision, hovering in the empty air of my dining room like a live-stream comment.

The male lead has no idea its the heroines birthday, but the female rival remembers the exact date. Is this not love? This is love!

Another line floated by. Who else gets it? Our heroine is too kind. The rival tries to provoke her, ends up getting mad herself, but still comes back for more. So cute.

Don't be mad at her, baby girl. All her hate is just frustration that you don't look at her. Give her an inch of initiative, and youll catch yourself a prickly, defensive little kitten.

I let out a soft scoff. Hannah Sinclair? A defensive little kitten?

Everyone in our circle knew the score. She loathed my cold, calculating, profit-driven nature, and I had exactly zero patience for her spoiled, erratic, weather-vane temper.

But, driven by some inexplicable impulseperhaps sparked by those bizarre floating wordsI leaned into the absurdity.

"Thank you, Hannah. I'm actually touched you remembered it was my birthday."

Dead silence on the other end of the line.

I started to doubt the validity of the floating text. How could Hannah Sinclair, of all people, be a tsundere?

Thanks to Parker, our relationship over the past few years had plummeted past the freezing point into outright hostility. It was an unspoken rule in Manhattans upper crust: if Hannah was on the guest list, I wasn't. If I was there, she was out.

She had given up studying abroad in London just to stay in the States and follow Parker. After graduation, she entangled herself in his life so thoroughly that she didn't even care when the old-money crowd whispered behind her back.

If Parker and I went on a business trip, shed demand he take her shopping. If we had a date, she would miraculously twist her ankle or spike a fever. Birthdays, anniversariesshe always found a way to drag him away to her side. And every single time she succeeded, Id get a call just like this one, dripping with mockery, flaunting how devoted he was to her.

Honestly, it was entirely unnecessary.

I had only agreed to date Parker to maximize a strategic corporate merger. It was the path of least resistance. And if there was a villain in this love triangle, it was him. If his boundaries hadn't been so deliberately blurred, if he hadn't constantly indulged her whims, she would never have had the leverage to provoke me in the first place.

I didn't exactly like Hannah, but I couldn't say I truly hated her either. We had grown up together, after all. There was a history there.

But she was supposed to despise me. Why would she go out of her way to remember my birthday?

Heroine, don't hang up! Shes buffering. Shes panicking. Her brain is short-circuiting.

Hahaha, the rivals fur is entirely puffed up right now. Shes definitely staring at her phone in sheer disbelief, taking deep breaths.

The element of surprise is a flawless tactic. I can't wait for the day her prickly facade completely crumbles!

Watching the spectral words fade into the air, a genuine smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

I had known her for over two decades. We might not have been best friends, but we knew the darkest, ugliest corners of each others temperaments. I didn't even need the mysterious text to picture it. I could perfectly envision her staring at her phone, mouth opening and closing, swallowing her carefully prepared insults until she finally choked out

"Are you out of your mind?! Bonnie Montgomery, stop playing the victim with me!"

The sheer satisfaction of predicting her response entirely washed away the lingering sting of being ditched by Parker.

Looking at the meticulously arranged centerpiece and the empty dining room, I chuckled, suddenly at a loss for words.

I had thought Parker would at least remember. Whether as a boyfriend or a future business partner in a high-stakes merger, he should have known today was my birthday.

"Bonnie, cut the act!" Hannahs voice barked through the speaker. "Im in a good mood today, so Im going to take pity on you and buy you a cake. Stop pretending you're heartbroken."

The heavy disappointment in my chest snapped like a brittle twig. Maybe... maybe she really didn't hate me?

"Then I want the one from the bakery on the Upper East Side," I said softly.

An immediate, exasperated groan echoed through the receiver. "I know, I know! You are so high-maintenance. Youll only eat from that one specific pastry chef, and it has to be the mango filling. God."

Chat, what do we do when we encounter a fiercely defensive kitten? She says she hates you but won't stop following you around.

Recommend taking her straight home and kissing her senseless!

Who else is dying at the thought of the rival furiously scrolling through delivery apps right now to find the exact right cake? Is this the legendary 'mouth says no but body says yes'?

Listening to Hannahs muffled, continuous grumbling through the phone, a strange, warm knot formed in my chest.

She remembered. She remembered all of it.

The doorbell rang.

Along with the pristine bakery box came a gift. A custom silk scarf from a top-tier European house, in exactly the color palette and vintage cut I favored.

Almost simultaneously, a text from her lit up my screen.

I was in a good mood today, so the scarf is yours. Bonnie MONTGOMERY!!! I am warning you, do not play the pathetic card with me again. I don't buy it!

I looked between the mango cake and the heavy silk, my thumbs moving smoothly over the glass screen. Thank you for the gifts. I love the scarf.

The floating text in my vision went absolutely feral.

Im screaming. One sentence and shes probably flushed beet-red, muttering 'psycho' while smiling at her phone.

These two girls are the absolute best. Please stop fighting over that trash man.

Just coax her a little! The kitty just needs a little chin scratch.

I ran my fingers over the rolled hem of the silk scarf, a quiet, unfamiliar warmth blooming in my veins.

The next morning, an artisan coffee and a pastry sat on my office desk. Parker leaned against the edge of the mahogany, watching me.

"I'm sorry about last night, Bonnie. Hannah is just too impulsive. Ill make sure everything is handled properly before the wedding." He paused, his gaze dropping to my neck. "That scarf looks stunning on you today. It suits you."

This was Parkers signature move. A tone so indulgent it bordered on patronizing, always leaving just enough ambiguity. I was never quite sure if that indulgence was meant for me, or for Hannah.

Looking at the man before me, it would be a lie to say I felt absolutely nothing for him. When we first started dating, it had aligned perfectly with my familys corporate restructuring. Tech startups were becoming the new empire builders, riding the wave of emerging algorithms and digital infrastructure. For a legacy company like ours to stay at the apex, integrating with new tech money was essential.

But there were a hundred ways to achieve that. It didn't have to be Parker Cole.

I hadn't been entirely opposed to marrying him, perhaps even building a life together. But reality had a funny way of stripping the gold paint off base metal.

"Yesterday was my birthday. Did you know that?"

Seeing the sheer, unadulterated shock flash across his face, I looked down, adjusted the silk scarf at my collar, and let out a cold, internal laugh.

It must have been so much work for Hannah. Racking her brain, fabricating an emergency to drag him away from me on the exact day of my birthday. And in the end, her meticulous plotting had been entirely wasted on a man who hadn't even realized what day it was.

Parker lost his smooth composure, standing up straight. A rare flicker of genuine guilt crossed his features. He opened his mouth, closed it, and ultimately said nothing.

I flipped open the quarterly proposal, mentally calculating the delivery dates for our joint venture. I didn't even look up to see when he finally slinked out of my office.

Corporate life spares no one. Even the heirs to the throne have to grind.

At noon, my assistant trailed behind me, her expression unusually bright, a secretive smile playing on her lips. As soon as I stepped into the executive dining room, a chaotic chorus of cheers erupted. The crowd parted, and Parker emerged, pushing a massive, multi-tiered cake on a cart.

"Happy Birthday, Bonnie!"

I studied the towering confection, my expression pleasant but entirely detached. "If its not from the bakery on the Upper East Side, I won't eat it. And I only eat fruit fillings if they're mango." I met his eyes. "Ill pass on the cake."

My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket. The private group chat with my inner circle was exploding, everyone demanding I host a party tonight to properly celebrate.

I typed out a quick, gracious agreement, and explicitly tagged Hannah Sinclair.

The chaotic group chat went completely dead.

She replied almost instantly. Beg me. Beg me, and I might show up.

The floating text surged again.

Ahhhhh the leopard and the cat, Im ascending! Is this not love?!

The girls are the main event! Drop the dead weight of a man.

Who else understands the pure delicacy of a defensive rival? Shes definitely avoiding eye contact right now, feeling like something is slightly off, but stubbornly tilting her chin up anyway.

I was finally starting to grasp the precise emotional texture of the word tsundere the comments kept using. I lowered my head, a genuine smile breaking across my face.

Im begging you.

I wiped the smile from my face and looked up at the sea of executives and assistants, all of whom currently looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them whole.

I picked up the silver knife, cut a slice of the rejected cake with a light chuckle, and set it on a plate. "I can't eat this, but you all shouldn't let it go to waste. Make sure you thank Mr. Cole for his generosity."

Parkers smile looked more like a grimace. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me out into the hallway and back toward my office.

"Bonnie, forgetting your birthday was my fault, but did you really have to humiliate me in front of the entire floor?!" he hissed, dropping his voice. "It was the thought that counted! Would it have killed you to take one bite?"

The floating comments were merciless.

This is exactly what tech bros do. They can't be bothered to remember a womans basic preferences, and then they blame her for 'humiliating' them when their low-effort gesture fails.

Take the rose-colored glasses off. Proof that a man is just a man. Doesn't matter how rich he is, hes still weaponizing his incompetence.

I am begging you on my hands and knees, look at our girl Hannah! The party is tonight and shes probably been trying on battle armor since 8 AM!

I wrenched my wrist out of his grip and walked straight to my desk.

The timeline on the joint venture was still dragging. Perhaps realizing he had crossed a line, Parker leaned his hands heavily on my desk, took a deep breath, muttered a hasty apology, and volunteered to secure the VIP room at a private club for tonights party.

"Suit yourself," I said, not looking up.

Adult birthdays are rarely just about cake; they are battlegrounds for leverage and corporate probing. Tonight would be a test of how solid my relationship with Parker really was, and by extension, the merger of our two families' empires.

I maintained a polite, impenetrable smile throughout the evening. Parker hovered, trying to play the perfect host, but continually found himself hitting a brick wall.

Once the initial wave of networking died down, he looked at me, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Bonnie, I was wrong. The cake debacle won't happen again." He gestured to the lavish room. "Do you like what I did with the place? Guess what I got you for your actual gift."

Before I could even form a response, a commotion rippled near the entrance.

It truly was the entrance of a queen demanding her subjects part the Red Sea.

Hannah Sinclair swept in, dripping in a breathtaking couture gown, her chin tilted up with that signature, disdainful arrogance. She marched straight up to me, coming to a halt right next to Parker.

She looped her arm lightly through his. "Bonnie, you don't mind, do you?"

Before Parker could even react to her touch, Hannah furrowed her brow, sweeping her gaze over the room with a theatrical click of her tongue.

"Bonnie, has your taste really deteriorated this much? It seems Im not the only one who hates you. Someone deliberately decorated this entire room with the exact roses you despise. And since when do you drink champagne? You only ever drink fruit wine."

She systematically tore the party to shreds. From the greeters to the lighting, from the alcohol to the ambient scent, from the floral arrangements to the catering.

She didn't even notice that the blood had completely drained from Parkers face.

She delivered the final, fatal blow: "This hits every single one of your red flags with terrifying precision. Who designed this? I need to shake their hand."

I offered her a serene, amused smile and tilted my chin toward Parker.

Embarrassment doesn't just evaporate; it transfers.

Hannahs hand subtly slipped out from the crook of Parkers arm, acting as if she had never touched him at all.

Hahaha, she is so cute. When a cat knocks over a vase, they just pretend it never happened, therefore it never happened.

See? Your greatest enemy knows you best. They are in the same frame! Enemies to lovers incoming.

Can the man please exit the chat? I only want to see the rivals meticulously chosen gift (strikeout) flex (check).

After I finished another round of corporate pleasantries, she unabashedly wedged herself right between Parker and me. Completely ignoring the social cues of the room, she pulled a sleek glass bottle from her clutch and spritzed the air with aggressive flair.

"Bonnie. Does it smell good?"

It did. It was my absolute favorite niche European fragrance. The same one I had worn since college.

"Do you like it? What a shame. I bought out every single bottle of available stock in the country. Even if you love it, you can't get it. Youll just have to settle for whatever generic trash you can find."

As she spoke, her eyes flicked intentionally toward the small gift box resting on the table beside me.

Parkers gift. Also perfume.

The silence in our immediate circle grew physically painful. The onlookers wanted to laugh, but didn't dare, their eyes darting nervously to Parkers ashen face.

It was utterly absurd. The supposed "other woman" knew the girlfriend better than the boyfriend of five years did.

"Let me make one thing clear," Hannah hissed, leaning in close. "Whatever you like, I will take it from you!"

I rested my chin in my hand, my eyes crinkling with undisguised amusement. "So, you know exactly what I like."

"O-of course I do!"

The floating text absolutely lost its mind, and this time, even our close friends couldn't hold back their snickers.

We had all been in the same social stratosphere for years. When you grow up together, the boundaries for teasing are virtually nonexistent.

The laughter flushed Hannahs cheeks pink. She stamped her heel in indignation, turned on her stiletto, and stormed offcompletely forgetting her hard-won bottle of perfume on the table.

"I haven't seen you two act like this in years," one of our friends murmured, swirling her drink.

"I always say," another chimed in, "Bonnie looks like the calm, responsible one, but shes secretly wicked."

"Poor Hannah. Defeated time and time again, yet always coming back for battle. We thought you two would be locked in a cold war forever."

A sudden, thoughtful silence fell over the group.

Honestly, compared to Parker, Hannah was the one I had truly grown up with.

From elite prep schools to Ivy League networking events, from childhood braces to bespoke tailored suits. I knew her, and she knew me. We hadn't missed a single major milestone in each others lives.

Back then, even though she constantly wanted to compete with me over grades, fashion, or social standing, it had never been this toxic.

Not until Parker Cole arrived.

His entry into our world had been blinding. The Cole tech empire was shifting its headquarters to the East Coast, backed by massive government contracts. He was the kind of new money that demanded immediate respect from the old guard.

My connection with Parker was driven by mutual benefit. It was logical. Smooth. There is no such thing as pure, unadulterated romance at this level of wealth, just as there is no such thing as isolated corporate maneuvering. Interests and emotions must entangle to form an unbreakable alliance.

But as if by some cruel twist of fate, Hannah also met Parker. And she became infatuated.

From that moment, our rivalry mutated into something ugly. We fought over everything. But mostly, we fought over him.

To Parker, I was the ideal board-room partner, the perfect choice to appease his investors. I just wasn't the perfect girl to date.

The very traits that made me an incredible asset in a mergermy calm, my stability, my emotional restraintwere viewed as massive flaws in his romantic life. He loved the fact that we were fighting over him. He fed off the ego trip of two powerful heiresses tearing each other apart for his attention.

In the past, our families' projects had been too deeply intertwined. My hands had been tied, and I had given Parker far too much leeway.

But now...

I stared at the pale golden liquid swirling gently in my glass.

Now, Parker was no longer essential.

We might all run in the same circles, but there are circles within circles. New money like the Coles, no matter how bright they burned, still lacked the deep, unshakable roots of families like mine and Hannahs.

Even though my relationship with Hannah had fractured over the years, neither of us had ever truly crossed the line into destroying the other's family legacy. At the end of the day, men were the most expendable assets in our portfolios.

If Parker had a shred of self-awareness, he would have handled his own mess quietly. He wouldn't have let it escalate into a public spectacle.

Fortunately, the delivery date for the joint venture was imminent. Once the ink dried on the final contracts, severing ties with maximum efficiency and minimum PR fallout would be the optimal move.

I clinked my glass against a friends, offering a knowing smile. Some things didn't need to be spoken out loud.

Perhaps men possessed a survival instinct after all. For the next few weeks, Parker morphed into the picture-perfect boyfriend. He was attentive, cautious, and ironically, our project milestones moved at record speed.

The only remaining annoyance was his parents.

Mr. and Mrs. Cole had built their wealth from the ground up. They adhered to a painfully traditional "man conquers the world, woman tends the hearth" philosophy. A few years ago, they wouldn't have dared speak to me with anything but reverence. But recently, emboldened by Hannahs aggressive pursuit of their son, their spines had stiffened. They had started trying to dictate my life.

"Bonnie, darling," Mrs. Cole said, her diamonds flashing as she poured tea. "You and Parker aren't getting any younger. Its time to settle down. A man needs to build his family before he can truly conquer his industry."

She patted my hand condescendingly. "Don't take this the wrong way, dear, but a womans true priority should be her home. Supporting her husband, raising the children. Our legacy is in the next generation. When are you going to let Mr. Cole and me hold our grandchildren?"

I glanced at Parker, who was sitting on the velvet sofa, entirely motionless, acting as if he had suddenly gone deaf. I understood the nature of this ambush perfectly.

They felt they weren't getting a big enough piece of the pie in the merger. They wanted to lock me down, to bind our assets permanently through marriage and an heir.

"Today, Im going to teach you how to make his favorite pan-seared branzino," Mrs. Cole continued smoothly. "Parker loves it. Once you two are married, you can make it for him so he doesn't have to keep running back here to his mother."

I offered a placid smile, saying absolutely nothing.

The floating text, however, was having a field day.

Enemy forces arriving in five seconds! Waiting for the girls to collide.

This old bat. Her greedy little abacus beads are practically hitting my face. I hope the rival shows up and burns the house down.

Hahaha, the rival probably didn't even want to come, but the second she heard the heroine was here, she shot out of bed, strapped on her Louboutins, and launched herself like a missile.

Before Parker could even attempt to mediate the tension, Mrs. Coles face broke into a dizzying, sycophantic grin as she rushed toward the foyer.

Hannah Sinclair strolled in, her sweet, weaponized charm immediately flattering the elder Coles into a state of absolute euphoria. I watched as she handed over her hostess gift, fighting the urge to burst out laughing.

It was the exact same generic, high-end corporate basket I had brought.

She put on an Oscar-worthy performance of surprise, as if she hadn't realized I would be sitting right there. "Oh! Bonnie. Youre visiting Mr. and Mrs. Cole too?"

If she tried acting like this in Hollywood, shed be laughed out of the room.

"Yep," I said, popping the 'p'. "Im here to cook."

The delicate, carefully arranged features of her face instantly contorted.

It was a beautiful mosaic of disbelief, confusion, and raw, visceral anger...