Vengeance of the First Love

I couldn't sleep last night, so I was mindlessly scrolling through short videos on my phone.

I stumbled upon a trending question: Just how much damage can a man's unforgettable first love do?

Right there in the top comments was my boyfriend's reply. She was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. But all I can think about is how glad I am that she isn't her.

Well. That was awkward.

Especially since my cancer turned out to be a misdiagnosis.

The day I walked out of the hospital clutching a terminal cancer diagnosis, Sebastian was still throwing a tantrum because I hadn't delivered breakfast to him after his night of heavy drinking.

I had been with Sebastian for three years. For three years, I had been the perfect, compliant girlfriend. I worked like a dog, swallowed my pride, and never uttered a single word of complaint.

He would get wasted at some exclusive club, call me in the dead of night, and demand I bring him a bowl of homemade soup.

And when I rushed over to deliver it, he would toss it straight into the trash without blinking. Then he would turn to his wealthy friends and smirk. "Told you she'd come crawling. Pay up."

When he was caught flirting with other women, he would force me to step in, use my status as his official girlfriend, and clean up his mess.

Afterward, he would brag to his inner circle. "As long as Stella stays this obedient, I might just let her stick around."

Yes. Sebastian was the most notorious playboy in our social circle.

He was young, insanely wealthy, drop-dead gorgeous, and knew exactly how to play the game. Rumor had it he was incredible in bed, too.

He was adored in this elite world. During our time together, practically every other month I would get a phone call from some socialite demanding I step down and make room for her.

The only reason I managed to stay by his side for so long was pure, unadulterated obedience.

And the fact that I looked exactly like his first love.

Over the years, I had heard the tragic tale of his "white moonlight" from countless gossiping mouths.

They were childhood sweethearts. Families of equal status. The ultimate first love trope.

If tragedy hadn't struck, they would have walked down the aisle and merged their empires. But right before their engagement, her family abruptly declared bankruptcy. The arranged marriage was instantly canceled by Sebastian's ruthless father. Heartbroken, the girl fled to Europe and never looked back.

Every time Sebastian paraded a new woman around, someone would maliciously recount this story to me. My ears were practically callous from hearing it.

They were reminding me of my place. I was just a cheap stand-in. I was no different from the rest of his disposable toys.

Even Sebastian's friends constantly told me I should be counting my lucky stars just to breathe the same air as him.

Usually, I had the patience to stroke Sebastian's massive ego.

But I thought I was dying. I had zero patience left for his toxic games.

When he called to complain about breakfast, I snapped. "I don't have time today. Buy your own damn food."

He clearly hadn't expected me to talk back. He froze for a second. "You want me to buy takeout? You know my stomach is a mess, and you're telling me to eat garbage?"

Suddenly, the whole charade felt incredibly exhausting. "If your stomach hurts, go see a doctor. I'm not a physician. What the hell is calling me going to do?"

I hung up immediately and blocked his number.

A massive wave of relief washed over me.

Three days ago, I received a phone call from across the Atlantic. It was Sebastian's legendary first love.

She told me she was flying back. My mission was over.

Everyone thought my three years of enduring Sebastian's sadistic mood swings was because I was desperately, hopelessly in love with him.

They were wrong.

Molly had paid me three million dollars to buy three years of my life.

Molly. Sebastian's untouchable first love.

Nobody knew the real reason I took Molly's three million dollars. I had a younger brother whose kidneys were failing. He was dying.

Our parents had died in a horrific car crash when I was very young. For years, I juggled multiple minimum-wage jobs while going to school, desperately trying to keep my brother, Toby, fed and clothed. He was eight years younger than me.

When he was little, he would rest his chin on my shoulder and whisper softly. "Stella, I'm going to grow up fast."

"When I get big, I'm going to buy you a closet full of beautiful dresses."

He was always such a good kid. He studied hard, stayed out of trouble, and grew from a tiny toddler into a handsome, six-foot-tall young man.

Even when he was confined to a hospital bed, his face pale and sickly after grueling dialysis sessions, he would still hold my hand.

He would tell me over and over again. "Stella, Sebastian is a bad person. You need to leave him."

I would stroke his hair and lie through my teeth. I told him it was fine. I told him Sebastian was just a little immature, but he was a good guy deep down.

Toby would just look at me and silently cry.

He told me he was nothing but a burden. He said he had been dragging me down since he was born.

I wanted to shake him. I wanted to tell him that my Toby was never a burden. He was my only anchor in this brutal world.

People need an anchor to survive.

But then I lost him.

I watched helplessly as the boy I raised was reduced to an urn small enough to hold in my hands.

My only tether to this world was gone.

The day the doctor told me I needed to be hospitalized for my own failing health, Sebastian's first love touched down at the international airport.

It was treated like a royal homecoming.

A mutual friend screenshotted Sebastian's Instagram story for me. It was a photo of the two of them. Molly looked breathtaking in a white designer dress, stepping out of the private terminal with a massive bouquet of roses pressed to her chest. She looked elegant, wealthy, and flawless.

The caption read: "Finally."

The comments were flooded with his elite friends kissing their feet.

Sebastian actually seemed to care about Molly. He wiped his social media completely clean of his playboy past. He curated his image to look like a devoted man who had spent years waiting for his true love to return.

If he hadn't used a burner phone to text me at two in the morning, I might have actually believed he had changed.

The text read: "Stella, if you behave and crawl back, I'll pretend your little tantrum never happened."

I blocked that number too.

What a piece of trash.

Three years ago, just days after Toby was admitted to the ICU, a mountain of medical debt threatened to bury me alive.

That was when Molly found me online.

She offered me a deal. If I agreed to act as Sebastian's girlfriend, report his every move to her, and keep him occupied until she returned, she would wire me three million dollars.

I agreed in a heartbeat. That money was Toby's lifeline.

My logic was beautifully simple back then. I just wanted the cash to cure Toby, and then we would vanish together.

God only knows how exhausting it was to play the submissive, sweet girlfriend for three years. There were so many days I fantasized about kicking Sebastian down a flight of stairs.

I finally held out until Molly returned. The moment I tasted freedom, the air had never felt sweeter.

Go back to him?

He could rot in hell.

I didn't check into the hospital. The doctor warned me that without immediate treatment, I wouldn't have much time left.

I still didn't go.

I remembered the sheer agony Toby endured on that sterile bed. I was terrified.

He had always hated pain. I still didn't know how he survived those brutal dialysis sessions.

I hated pain too. But more than that, I was terrified of waking up screaming in the middle of the night with no one there to hold my hand.

I took the remaining money from Molly's payment and opened a tiny coffee shop.

Over the years, I had worked countless odd jobs to keep Toby alive. Being a barista was one of them.

Toby always loved the coffee I made. Lying in the hospital, pale as a ghost, he used to smile and promise me that when he got better, he would work three jobs, save up, and open a caf just for me. He said he would be my loyal waiter.

He never made it to that day. Now it was just me, alone in this little shop.

Business wasn't booming, but it was enough to keep the lights on.

Right before closing on a Friday, a massive corporate order came in. One hundred artisanal coffees. I smiled so hard my cheeks ached. I worked like a machine, terrified that if I was a minute late, they would cancel the order.

But when I arrived at the delivery address and saw Sebastian standing in the penthouse lobby, I turned on my heel to leave.

To hell with this money.

Sebastian stepped into my path, tilting his perfectly sculpted jaw. "Stella, are you done throwing your little fit?"

He narrowed his dark eyes, radiating arrogance. "Do not push my boundaries. If you come back to my apartment right now, I will let this slide. Even though Molly is back, I'll allow you to stay by my side."

He spoke slowly, his tone dripping with condescension. He genuinely believed he was offering me the charity of a lifetime.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. I ripped the lid off a cup and hurled the scorching coffee directly into his smug face.

"Are you out of your psychotic mind?! Go see a psychiatrist!"

"These past three years with you have been a living nightmare. Do you actually think you're God's gift to women?"

"Sebastian, looking at your face makes me physically nauseous!"

"What a waste. You just ruined a perfectly good cup of coffee!"

God.

Molly never mentioned I would have to deal with post-sale customer service when I signed that contract.

Sebastian was completely stunned. He stood frozen, espresso dripping from his expensive hair onto his designer suit. He couldn't compute what had just happened.

It made sense. For three years, I had been completely docile. If he told me to walk east, I never looked west. If he demanded I jump off a yacht into freezing water just for his amusement, I did it without hesitation.

My dedication to the role was unmatched.

He wiped his face, his eyes turning slightly red with frustration. "You were never like this."

"I just want things to go back to how they were."

I understood exactly what this was. Asking this arrogant billionaire to show weakness was like asking him to cut off his own arm.

But why the hell should I care?

I tossed the empty cup into a nearby trash can. "How they were? You mean playing the role of your pathetic, obedient dog?"

"Sorry to break it to you. I'm resigning from that position."

I didn't wait for a response. I walked out to my delivery van and drove away. In my rearview mirror, I could see him standing frozen in the plaza.

He looked like a proud, majestic lion that had just been brutally beaten.

I let out a cold, mocking laugh.

I knew Sebastian better than anyone. Showing up today was just another one of his sick little games.

I wondered how much money he and his frat-boy friends had bet on this outcome.

None of it mattered to me anymore.

I only cared about what his next move would be.

Because right now, he was dancing exactly to the tune I was playing.