The 18-Year-Old Me Slapped My Billionaire Ex

Thirty hit me hard. I tanked my promotion. I walked out on my career. I dumped my CEO fianc right as we picked out a wedding venue. I couldn't even face my family for Christmas.

Then, on the absolute darkest day of my life, I ran into my eighteen-year-old self.

I braced for her disgust. Instead, she let out an ear-piercing shriek. "You have enough money to buy literally whatever you want! Oh my god, and you slept with that absolute smokeshow of a man? You are so freaking badass! Wait, I am so freaking badass! Cleo, are you literally winning at life right now?"

Chapter 1

"You knew exactly who I was from day one. You tanked your own promotion. What does that have to do with me?"

A bitter laugh caught in my throat. How could it not?

Everyone in the office knew dating a coworker was a massive HR violation. I swallowed my pride. I played the invisible girlfriend to protect his corporate image. I even pretended we were strangers in the lobby. And him? Rage made my hands shake. "Tristan, you paraded Serena around the company cafeteria. You strolled the grounds with her. Did you ever once give a damn about optics? The senior partners handed Serena perfect scores because they see how you look at her! They think shes your little pet project, so they kiss up to her to get to you!"

Tristan scrunched his face, looking at me like I had lost my mind. "You sound unhinged. We work in the same building. What, you expect me to ignore her?"

I sucked in a sharp breath. "The entire floor gossips about you fast-tracking Serena for the top spot. You never shut it down. Meanwhile, I wear your engagement ring, and I have to sneak around like a criminal. I secured our biggest clients. I pulled back-to-back all-nighters to hit your core metrics. I doubled my quota. For what?"

Tristan didn't even flinch. "I didn't bend the rules for anyone. The executive board voted. I gave you a perfectly level playing field. You dropped the ball, and now you want to make me the villain?"

Staring at the stranger standing across from me, the years of subtle gaslighting finally clicked into place. Did he sleep with her? Did he rig the board in Serena's favor? Tristan would never confess. He would never apologize.

"We're done," I whispered. "I resign."

Tristan's jaw clenched, his eyes turning to ice. "Suit yourself."

Thirty years old. Eight years bleeding for that firm. One month since he slipped the ring on my finger.

Overnight, all of it was just gone.

The air rushed out of my lungs. A hollow ache gnawed a hole straight through my chest. I wandered down the freezing sidewalk, my boots dragging against the concrete. I didn't know where I was going.

A commotion ripped me out of my head. A crowd choked the street corner, shouts slicing through the night air.

"Officer, over here! This guy reeks of booze and he's beating his wife!"

Onlookers whispered and pointed, muttering about what kind of man hits a woman. Yet, they all shrank back. Nobody stepped off the curb.

The stench of cheap liquor rolled off Trevor. He thrashed and spat. "She is my wife! I'll do whatever the hell I want! No cop is gonna tell me otherwise!"

A young girl stood dead center in the chaos, gripping Trevors arm with white knuckles. She anchored him to the asphalt until Clark pulled up with the sirens wailing. "This is what a badass does! Scum like you belongs in a cell, and she needs a damn divorce!"

I hovered on the edge of the crowd, keeping my mouth shut. Pity twisted my gut, but my feet stayed planted. Society and Tristan beat that lesson into me. Keep your head down. Protect yourself. Stay out of the crossfire.

Then I looked through the sea of bystanders. My eyes locked onto the girl.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Chapter 2

That face was too young. Too arrogant. It carried the reckless, bulletproof stupidity of youth. I stared at the girl. That was undeniably eighteen-year-old me.

Eighteen-year-old Cleo caught my stare. She whipped her head around and our eyes locked. She froze, fired off a final sentence to Clark, the cop, then sprinted straight toward me. "Youyou look exactly like me." She gasped for air. "What year is it?"

"It's 2037."

Her young brain fired on all cylinders, clicking instantly. "Oh my god! I time-traveled! This is what I look like at thirty!" She lunged forward and grabbed my freezing hands. "Cleo!" she squealed. "What are the odds!"

While I was still choking down this impossible reality, young Cleo had already adapted, clinging to my arm with an exhausting eighteen-year-old energy I had long forgotten. She operated like a lit firecracker, her mouth running at a million miles an hour. "How much cash do you have on you right now? Is being thirty the ultimate freedom? No more exams?"

"I have some savings. And yes, no more school."

"Holy crap, this coat feels ridiculously expensive. You are so freaking successful! Wait, I am so freaking successful!"

I wasn't successful. Tonight, I had to check into a hotel. When Tristan and I moved in together, I had broken my lease. He constantly lectured me about the crashing housing market, claiming buying real estate was a rookie mistake. Because of him, I never bought my own place. I let him consume my entire life. Now, I had nowhere to go, and Tristan knew that. He was waiting for me to crawl back. Failure choked me. With Christmas right around the corner, I couldn't stomach facing my parents. How was I supposed to look my parents in the eye and explain why I dumped my perfect fianc?

Young Cleo practically vibrated with excitement. "I've never been to a real club! Can you sneak me into a bar? It sucks being stuck at eighteen in the future!"

I looked into her blazing, untamed eyes, and the crushing weight of my reality dissolved, just a fraction. "Let's go. I'll sneak you into a lounge." I managed a weak smile. "What else? You want to order room service at a five-star hotel tonight? It's on me."

I picked an upscale, low-key lounge. Perfect for talking. I ordered two of my favorite cocktails and slid one over to Cleo. Her eyes darted everywhere, absorbing the dim lighting and the leather booths like a sponge. "So, what's the boyfriend like?"

I had already fielded a hundred of her rapid-fire questions. I opened my mouth to brush her off.

Then, I saw Tristan.

He sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows, shadows masking his sharp jawline. Serena sat directly next to him.

I pointed a shaky finger across the room. "That's my ex. We broke up an hour ago. I'm pretty sure he's sleeping with the woman beside him."

Cleo's jaw dropped. "What the actual hell? He is a walking red flag!" she hissed. "I'm going to slap the taste out of his mouth!" She bolted from the booth.

I lunged and snagged her wrist. "Stop! Drop it. He's the CEO. You cannot pick a fight with him here."

Chapter 3

Young Cleo stared at me in disbelief. "What are you doing? Why are you acting like a total doormat? He's the one cheating! He's the bad guy here! You don't just sit there and take this!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose, instantly exhausted. "We're already broken up. Plus, they're just sitting there having a drink. I have zero hard proof he cheated. What leg do I have to stand on? He's the CEO. He cares about his reputation more than anything. If you make a scene right now, he'll retaliate"

"I'm going to dump a drink right on his stupid head!" Young Cleo snarled. "I'm getting answers! What's he going to do about it? Is he above the damn law?"

I grabbed her shoulders and shoved her back into the leather booth, begging her to stop acting on impulse. Leaning in close, I frantically whispered the brutal reality of our corporate power dynamic. Tristan had started as my manager and ended up as my boss. We had kept our relationship strictly underground. "When I first started, Tristan mentored me. He taught me the ropes," I explained. "Keeping it a secret protected both of our careers. If HR found out, one of us would have to walk. I still need to work in this industry. The entire board worships Tristan. I can't afford to burn my bridges to ash"

Nobody knew. I never once stood by his side in public. Even when we started planning the wedding, we agreed to keep it off the radar. Outside the apartment, we were total strangers.

Young Cleo aggressively snapped photos and recorded videos on her phone. "Bullshit. Absolute toxic trash. He can't go public with you, but he can rub shoulders with that chick? Why aren't you exposing him? Why did you have to be the invisible one and not him? Did he completely gaslight you out of your mind?"

The more I spoke, the more disgusted she looked. She thought I was pathetic. She yanked a medical mask over her face, grabbed her icy cocktail, and shoved past me, marching straight toward Tristan. She dumped the entire sticky drink directly over his perfectly styled hair. "You absolute piece of garbage."

Tristan jerked back, ice cubes scattering across the pristine table. I sprinted over and snatched Young Cleo's hand.

Tristan locked eyes with me, a dark, furious scowl twisting his features. "Is this your friend? You brought her here to humiliate me in public?"

Serena watched his expression turn murderous. "I understand," Serena cooed softly. "I made the promotion list. It's only natural that Cleo's friend feels upset for her. But the company's evaluations are strictly impartial. Tristan and I just ran into each other to discuss a project Cleo, how could you stoop to something so trashy?"

A sharp, echoing crack silenced her manipulative little act. Young Cleo lunged forward and slapped Serena straight across the face. "Drop the innocent act, you manipulative pick-me! You stole her spot and now you're playing the victim?"

Serena shrieked, clutching her instantly reddening cheek and instinctively throwing herself at Tristan's chest for cover. "H-how could you hit me?"

But the plot twisted. Tristan didn't wrap his arms around her.

He let out an annoyed breath and ripped his soaked sleeve right out of Serena's frantic grip. "Just go home."

Serena froze. Tears pooled in her eyes as she gave a pathetic little nod. But the second she turned her back to Tristan and brushed past me, her mask slipped. A smug, victorious smirk curled the corner of her lips.

Chapter 4

Young Cleo clearly caught that smirk. Pure fury radiated from her. She wound up her arm, ready to deliver a second strike.

"Cleo, enough!" Tristan barked, his voice carrying a lethal edge. "What the hell happened to you?"

One name. Two heads snapped toward him. Young Cleo froze. My gaze locked onto Tristan.

I shoved Young Cleo behind my back. For the first time in eight years, I stood my ground against him in a public room. "Is she wrong?" I demanded. "I carried the firm this year. I closed the whale accounts. I entertained clients until I literally worked myself into the ER from sheer exhaustion. Serena stole my promotion, and now shes playing the victim. You two are knocking back drinks in a dim lounge. Does that make her your new pet project? Are you shielding her?"

Air scraped my throat like glass. Every syllable tore a chunk out of my chest.

Tristan pinned me with a dark, suffocating stare. "Is a middle-management title really that deep?" he scoffed. "You're marrying me. You get the world. Why are you so obsessed with a stupid promotion? Serena moving up changes absolutely nothing for you. You're acting hysterical. If this makes it back to the boardroom, my reputation tanks." He stepped closer. "You are thirty years old. Not three. Start looking at the ROI here."

I fired back. "Then what exactly are we doing here? Celebrating her new title? Or popping bottles because you're single again and free to pick up a younger girl?"

Tristans jaw locked. He hated losing control. "I never cheated. We kept a professional distance. Drop the paranoid obsession." He reached out and grabbed for my wrist. "If you still want the ring, walk out to the car with me. Now."

He expected blind obedience. Always. I ripped my arm out of his reach.

Young Cleo vaulted forward, shoving herself between us. "Are you actually psychotic?" she screamed. "You treat her like garbage over some pick-me, and you expect her to walk down the aisle? Professional distance? The two of you were practically sharing the same oxygen! A guy and a girl alone at a barwhat, its not cheating unless she catches you in bed together?"

Young Cleo lunged, her palm connecting with his cheek so hard that a sickening smack echoed across the dead-silent lounge.

Tristan stumbled back, not blocking it in time. Sticky liquor plastered his designer shirt to his chest. A blazing red handprint bloomed across his jaw. The untouchable CEO looked utterly pathetic