My Billionaire Ex-Boyfriend

The broke nobody I dated for three years turned out to be my boyfriend's brother.

Fake watch. Borrowed car. Dead-end desk job.

And, the System informed me, the single most powerful man in this entire book.

My mind went blank.

[Wait. The extra you dated was ROMAN?] The System was screaming inside my skull.

I gave a slow, heavy nod.

[He is not an extra, you absolute disaster. He's the biggest boss in the whole story.] It spun in panicked little circles. [You cannot let Roman find out who you are. One slip and the entire plot falls apart.]

[To the male lead, you're a sweet, clueless nobody. He can never learn you used to have a thing with his brother.]

Chapter 1

Cool. Love that for me.

I half-listened, my eyes drifting to the little girl in Roman's arms.

She couldn't have been more than two. Round cheeks, clearly well looked after. And her father's cold little face, passed straight down.

When I looked at her, she blinked back, curious.

That was when Grayson, my boyfriend and the male lead of this whole book, took my hand and announced to the room,

"Bro. Brought my girlfriend. Her name's Eden."

Roman's dull, ashen eyes shifted. Once.

Back when I dated him, I'd gone by my real name. The one from before I fell into this book.

Eden Sutton.

Different last name now. Quaid, not Sutton. He'd never connect it.

Right?

Grayson felt me freeze and tugged my sleeve.

"Say hi. This is my brother. Roman."

The System scrambled my voice before I could open my mouth.

To everyone else, I sounded exactly like myself. But Roman would never hear my real voice. The System made sure of that.

I let out a breath and got it out. "Hi."

Roman heard the stranger's voice, and his eyes finally let me go. "Mm." Flat. Cold.

We sat. Naturally, he ended up right across from me.

When in doubt, shut up. I sat small and quiet and prayed to dissolve into the chair.

Grayson turned to me anyway.

"You're allergic to mango. Skip the dessert."

He didn't say it loud. He didn't need to. It carried clean across the table.

Then he pulled on a glove, dragged a plate of shrimp over, and started peeling.

"Shrimp's your favorite. I'll do you extra."

Allergic to mango. Loves shrimp.

I'd told Roman both of those things, once.

Across the table, his chopsticks went still.

He forgot to blink. His unseeing eyes turned toward the woman across from him and held there.

Allergic to mango. Shrimp, always extra, always peeled by hand. He'd done it exactly like this, once, for a woman he'd lost.

But the voice that had said hello was a stranger's. Wrong. Not hers.

Coincidence, then. Half the world loved shrimp. He told himself that and kept listening anyway.

I knew he was blind. I knew he couldn't see my face.

It didn't stop my scalp from prickling.

Say less, I begged Grayson silently. Please. For once.

Instead he swept the table and lit up at the sweet-and-sour ribs. My favorite. His mouth opened to share that fact with the room.

I gave up on the clueless-little-flower act and kicked him under the table.

Nothing. He reached for the ribs like he hadn't felt a thing.

I kicked him twice more, harder.

And the man who'd said nothing all dinner finally spoke.

His gaze drifted, unfocused. His voice stayed perfectly calm.

"Ms. Quaid. You're kicking me."

Chapter 2

Grayson's attention swung off the ribs and over to us.

I had not meant to kick that man. I shut my eyes, mortified, and scraped out the only thing I had.

"I'm sorry. That was an accident."

Roman didn't answer. He just stood, the little girl in his arms, cold as ever.

"Enjoy the meal. She needs to be fed. We'll head out."

His assistant led him away.

Through the window, I watched him fold into a car worth more than most people's houses.

Three months of trailing Grayson around had taught me the names of a lot of expensive cars. That one still nagged at me. I'd seen it somewhere before.

It took a while. Then it landed.

The day I met Roman.

Back then, I hadn't been in the book long.

I knew nothing about this world except that I'd fallen into it. No System. No cheat. No special powers.

So I did the only thing I could. I kept my head down and learned to live here.

Survival rule number one: stay away from anyone who might be a main character.

Too pretty a name? Avoid.

Too rich? Avoid.

Too pitiful on the side of the road? Also avoid.

Then a customer started giving me a hard time at my coffee-shop job, and a stranger stepped in and shut it down.

Roman.

His so-called low-key car was parked right out front the whole time.

I just didn't know what I was looking at.

Nobody would have guessed that plain black car, that ordinary, forgettable black car, was an Aston Martin.

So I asked his name.

"Roman," he said.

Nice. Ordinary. I relaxed a little.

Then he asked, "They were giving you a hard time. Why didn't you fight back?"

I told him the truth.

"They were wearing Nike and Adidas. They looked rich. I don't pick fights with rich people."

What can I say. I was trying to avoid rich people, and those were the only two brands I knew.

Roman paused. Said "Huh," with no expression at all. Then, without a word, slid the watch off his wrist.

I noticed. "Why'd you take it off?"

"It's a fake," he said. "Runs slow. Annoying."

I nodded, deeply sympathetic. I bought fakes too. Three-dollar hair clips off a discount app, the kind that snapped in a week.

That sealed it. I relaxed all the way down.

Because honestly. A man in a fake watch? No way he's main-character material.

If I looked at that watch today, I'd know better.

It was a Patek Philippe. Close to a million dollars.

And the plain, logo-less clothes on his back? Hand-stitched. Custom. The kind that cost more than the car.

Later, the more I learned about him, the safer I felt.

He had a regular job at some company. Worked to the bone, always stuck in late meetings. Even the black car, he said, was borrowed from a friend.

Forgettable life. Forgettable name.

The face was the only loud thing about him.

But I let it go. The world is full of beautiful men. They can't all be main characters.

And a broke, overworked office drone? No way he was one of the chosen ones.

So.

I fell for the forgettable, impossibly beautiful nobody.

And we were happy. He was gentle. Attentive. The kind of man who knew what I needed before I did. Three good years.

Then, the year our daughter turned one.

I found out I had cancer.

Chapter 3

That was when the System finally showed up.

It told me I was the villainess. The cancer wasn't bad luck. It was written into me, part of the role I'd been dropped into. The only way to burn it out of my body was to go back and play my part in the main plot. All the way to the end.

Refuse, and the cancer just ran its course. No cure in this world or mine. Only the slow version, with my one-year-old watching.

So it wasn't really a choice.

I wanted to report it to someone. Kidnapping. Fraud. Whatever would stick.

[Finish the job and I'll send you home. Plus a hundred million dollars, on the house!]

The System said it like that fixed everything.

A hundred million. I didn't even blink. Roman and I were both regular working people. I wouldn't have known what to do with a tenth of it.

I didn't want the money. I didn't want to go home.

I wanted to live. I wanted to come back to them.

So I left the two of them a note.

Gone to get well. Back the second I am.

And the System set down its one rule, the one that actually mattered. Until the job was done, I could not let anyone pull off the mask. Blow my cover, step out of the villainess's lane even once, and the whole thing failed. Failed meant no cure. No cure meant I'd died for nothing and lost them anyway. For good.

So I let it swap my name. My city. The entire shape of my life. And I went off to play the male lead's most pathetic, devoted shadow.

Roman, after I'd vanished without a word for so long, drew the only conclusion left.

The treatment failed. I was dead.

And now, by some sick accident, I was sitting across his table again.

Inside, I was coming apart. If the whole task fell down over this, I'd lose everything.

But once Roman left, the table loosened up.

I ran my sweet, harmless little act, and his parents took to me fast. By the time the plates were cleared, they'd invited me to the house.

Grayson nodded along. "Works out. I need to grab something from home. Ride with me, Eden."

I didn't have a good way to say no.

So I ended up back at the old Ashford estate. Where I discovered Roman was there too.

Blind or not, the company couldn't run without him. Everything reached him through his assistant, read out loud, while his hands worked on their own, tying his daughter's hair into two neat little buns.

Poppy got bored of the briefing and wanted out. He let her go.

She still walked like she'd just figured out how, tipping side to side, and she would not let the staff take her hand.

She made it through the door and ran right into me.

She tipped her head back and stared up, curious.

Then her feet slid out from under her.

The maid lunged. Poppy batted her away. "No. No."

She was going down. I caught her without thinking.

The little voice cut off.

She'd gone rigid against me.

The maid winced. "Sorry, miss. She's shy with strangers. She really only lets the young master hold her."

But Poppy just burrowed deeper into me, one small fist knotted in my shirt, eyes squeezing happily shut.

"Like you," she mumbled. "Like... you."

The room went quiet.

My own daughter had picked me out of a whole room, her face buried in my chest, and my one job was to stand there and feel nothing about it. Or look like it. Same thing, only harder.

Grayson laughed. "Eden, you should feel honored. My niece doesn't take to anyone."

I kept my face flat. "Kids love me. Always have."

He bought it and drifted off to handle something else.

Poppy stayed tucked against me a while. Then she tipped her face up and pinned me with those big, grape-dark eyes.

She kept doing it. Staring. It was starting to get to me.

She couldn't remember me. Could she?

She wasn't even one when I left. Babies don't hold on to memories that long.

Then she dug into her pocket and pulled out a photo. Small. Worn soft at the corners.

I looked before I could stop myself.

It was me. In profile, holding her, back when she was tiny. Roman must have taken it when I wasn't looking.

Thank god the light was bad. You could barely make out a face.

Poppy looked at the photo. Then at me. Then back at the photo.

Like a tiny person working out the hardest problem of her life.

Chapter 4

She was barely two. She couldn't really walk yet, couldn't really talk.

No way she was identifying a blurry side-profile in a bad photo.

Roman and I had never been photo people. There were only a handful of pictures of me anywhere.

Still, I couldn't stop myself from pushing. "Have you seen any other pictures?"

Poppy mostly understood. She shook her head and scowled. "Daddy's. Stingy. Won't let me."

I breathed again.

Good. One clear shot and she might actually place me.

Footsteps behind me.

Roman had finished with work and come looking for his daughter. When he found her folded into a stranger's arms, something rare crossed his face. Surprise.

"You're letting someone carry you?"

The assistant stepped in, awkward. "Sir. Not someone. The young master's fiancee."

A frown, so faint you'd miss it. He held his arms out to her. "Come here, Poppy."

Poppy, who used to cling to her father and no one else, didn't move.

She shook her head and pushed deeper into me. Took a big breath against my shirt and mumbled, "Smells nice. Like you."

Roman's face didn't move.

Smells nice. He almost laughed, and there was nothing good in it. As if anything in this world had ever smelled better than his wife.

"Poppy. Come."

I knew better than to push my luck. I stood, lifted her, and carried her over to hand her back.

Which meant getting close. Very close. A few strands of my hair brushed his face.

I set Poppy into his arms and looked up.

He'd gone stiff. He wasn't saying anything.

The scent reached him and the floor tilted.

He knew it. He knew it the way you know your own name in the dark. Three years of it on the pillow next to him. He'd buried it. He'd buried her.

She'd gone to fight the thing in her body and never come back. He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

So this was something else. A perfume. A coincidence in a bottle.

His hand closed around his daughter so he wouldn't reach for the stranger in front of him.

Then his voice came, low and rough.

"Ms. Quaid. What are you wearing?"

"Why does it smell exactly like my wife's?"

Rookie mistake.

The man wasn't just blind with a bloodhound's nose. He had the memory to go with it.

I went blank and breezy on pure reflex.

"Probably my conditioner. Five bucks off a discount app. Want the link?"

Roman didn't answer for a moment.

Then the flat mask slid back down. "No."

Right. Different league now. A man like this wasn't shopping my discount apps anymore.

* * *

Back home, I scrolled the job boards like always.

Grayson wired me money every month. A lot of it. I couldn't take it.

Because his reasons for keeping me around were no mystery. I'd been built to match her. The female lead. Same tough, fragile, sweet-flower routine.

He and his first love had had a screaming fight. She'd left the country to make her point.

My whole job was to copy her and slide into the space she left behind.

So I'd kept my hands off his money and worked my own jobs the entire time. I'd just quit one. I needed a new one, fast.

That was when the listing scrolled past.

Nutritionist for a kid. Two years old, three meals a day, severe picky eater, patience required.

I happened to be a certified nutritionist.

I looked at the salary beside it, and the benefits, and sent my resume on the spot.

I'd only learned to cook because the System wanted me to win Grayson over with food. Drilled it so hard I ended up with an actual license.

Turns out I could feed people. Who knew.

Chapter 5

Two days later, they called me in.

The interviewer ran me through a wall of technical questions. I got them all. He finally nodded, handed me an address, and said the final round was there.

Strict process, I thought, and caught a cab.

It dropped me in a gated district. A guard walked me in himself.

I watched the route get more and more familiar, and something cold crept up my spine.

This was the Ashford estate.

Before I could finish the thought, the guard pushed the door open.

Roman. Poppy. Two maids. A standoff.

The little girl sat on one side, her father on the other, locked in some silent war.

A maid hovered with a small bowl. "Just one bite, sweetheart. Please."

Poppy smacked it out of her hand. "No."

The bowl hit the floor. Food everywhere.

Roman's face went cold, which was rare for him. "Poppy Ashford. Eat, or you go hungry."

She wasn't scared. She was so worked up she got a whole sentence out.

"If Mommy were here you wouldn't yell at me."

Every maid in the room stopped breathing.

Something moved across Roman's face at that word. Mommy. Then it was gone, and his voice went flat and mean.

"Mommy doesn't want you."

Poppy's eyes went huge. She fired right back.

"Mommy doesn't want you either. You you're useless. Mommy's at the hospital. Hurting."

The little face was furious, wet at the edges.

Roman's eyes went red. He shut them, lashes shaking, and I knew that sting. Blind eyes still knew how to burn.

Not one tear fell.

He'd run dry a long time ago. The day he found the hospital paperwork I'd left behind, probably. The day he learned what was eating me alive.

I stood in the doorway and listened to my daughter tell her father that her mommy was in a hospital somewhere, hurting.

Her mommy was standing right there.

Four steps away. Close enough to cross the room and scoop her up. Close enough to tell her none of it was true, that Mommy hadn't left because she stopped wanting her.

I dug my nails into my palm and didn't move.

The fight ended the second I stepped in.

The butler spotted me and blinked. "Ms. Quaid? What are you doing here?"

So. The job posting had been Roman's all along.

I'd meant to stay as far from him as I could. Less contact, fewer cracks for him to find.

But I'd just watched the two of them tear into each other. Watched her puff out her cheeks, stubborn, refusing to eat.

Something in me caved.

"I'm here about the nutritionist job," I told the butler.

Poppy's head whipped around.

The furious little face went blank when she saw me. Then, as I came closer, almost panicked. She nudged the spilled bowl under the table with one foot, quietly, like she didn't want me to see.

I bit back a smile. "What were we so upset about just now?"

She grabbed my sleeve and threw her father straight under the bus.

"Not upset. Daddy's upset." A beat. "Poppy's not... bad-tempered."

Roman let out another cold scrap of a laugh. He didn't say anything else.

The butler, hearing I was here for the job, jumped on it. "The little miss hasn't eaten. Come try something in the kitchen first."

I nodded and headed for the kitchen.

Poppy trailed me without a word, a small shadow stuck to my heel.

I cooked. I brought it out and fed it to her.

One bite, and her eyes lit up.

She finished the whole bowl.

The butler was clearly sold. Still, he turned to Roman first, and waited.

And Roman, the whole time, sat there in his silence, listening to every sound the two of us made.

Chapter 6

When I glanced up, I caught him facing my way. Studying. Those sightless eyes aimed right at me, probing.

I wasn't scared of slipping up anymore.

Because a long time ago, I couldn't cook to save my life. Roman had done all of it. The cooking, the dishes, the waiting on me hand and foot.

The woman in this kitchen now was nothing like her.

Sure enough, after a minute, the suspicion drained out of his face. He said, flat, "You'll handle Poppy's meals from now on."

And that was that.

So began my days of cooking for Poppy. Good money, and more time with her on top of it.

Roman took her everywhere. When he worked, she played in the corner of his office.

Then one day I brought the groceries over and, for once, Roman wasn't there. Just Poppy and the staff.

I didn't think much of it. Something urgent, probably.

But halfway through feeding her, she looked up at me.

"What's a merger marriage?"

The spoon stopped halfway to her mouth. "A merger marriage?"

She nodded, solemn. "Daddy. Has to do one."

That stopped me for a second.

He should marry. Of course he should. The right age, a kid, a family like this one.

I had a task to finish. I couldn't be selfish enough to make him stay a widower the rest of his life. Not for a woman he thought was dead.

So a merger marriage was the most normal thing in the world.

I made myself answer her. "It means Daddy finds a nice lady, and you all live together."

Poppy shook her head and rubbed her cheek against me.

"Don't want a lady. Want Edie."

I sighed and opened my mouth to say something else.

A woman's voice cut in from the doorway. "You really don't want a new auntie?"

Poppy and I turned at the same time.

A woman stood there in something expensive. She looked me over without a flicker, then reached out and lifted the bowl and spoon right out of my hands.

She smiled. "You're Poppy's nanny? You can go. I'll feed her."

She'd looked at me for half a second and filed me under problem. The nanny the kid actually wanted, standing in her way.

Poppy's face went tight. She wanted to blow up. I watched her remember she wasn't allowed to be a bad-tempered kid and choke it down instead, until her cheeks went red with the effort.

I frowned and stepped her behind me.

"I'm her nutritionist. Feeding her is my job. And you are?"

The woman's smile didn't move.

"Me? I'm Vanessa. Roman's..." A pause, set down just so. "Fiance."

Behind me, Roman's voice came with a warning in it. "Vanessa."

She stopped. Then she leaned in and dropped her voice, just for me.

"Sorry. We haven't gone public yet. I'd appreciate your discretion."

She handed the bowl back and rose, smooth as glass.

After that his parents arrived too, and settled into the next room to walk through the details of the marriage.

I fed Poppy, played with her a while, and got ready to leave.

I'd just stood when Vanessa reappeared in the dining room.

"Left my bag in here. Just grabbing it."

I didn't think anything of it. I kept packing up.

I was at the front door when her voice rang out behind me.

"The bracelet from my bag. Where is it? It's gone."

My stomach dropped. I turned.

The butler, smooth: "Don't worry, miss. The bag's been in the dining room the whole time. It must have slipped out somewhere."

They searched the entire room.

They didn't find it.

Chapter 7

Vanessa let her voice waver, just enough. "The only people in the dining room were Poppy. And the nutritionist."

The butler caught the hint and turned to me.

One of us was the fiancee. The other was hired help. He knew whose side to take.

"Ms. Quaid." Polite as a closing door. "Did you happen to see Ms. Holt's bracelet?"

I shook my head.

Vanessa's voice cracked right on cue. "My grandmother gave me that bracelet before she passed. Please. Just let me look in your bag."

I frowned and ran a quiet eye through my own bag.

There it was. A glint of it in the corner. A bracelet I'd never touched.

So that was the game.

Vanessa read my silence as fear and came at me, hand already out for the bag.

I didn't hand it over. I didn't snatch it back either, like I had something to hide.

I set it on the table myself and opened it. In front of everyone.

The bracelet slid out into the light. Glittering. Sitting in my things like it belonged there.

The noise had pulled Roman's parents in from the next room. His mother's eyebrows climbed.

For one ugly second, it looked like exactly what Vanessa wanted it to look like.

Then Poppy darted in, and her eyes snagged on something else in the spill.

"Ugly kitty." She pointed at a small, ugly cat charm and lit right up. "Daddy has one too."

My heart kicked.

I knew that charm. Roman and I had found it at a street stall, back when we were circling each other and pretending we weren't. A matching pair, a dog and a cat, ugly in a way you couldn't manage on purpose. I bought both. Gave him the dog.

Kept the cat with me ever since.

Poppy scooped it up and ran to her father. "Daddy, look. It matches the puppy."

And just like that, the bracelet stopped mattering to me at all.

Roman couldn't see it. He could only take it from her small hand and run his thumb across it, slow, learning the shape of it.

When he finished, his face went all the way dark.

"Ms. Quaid. Where did you get this."

It wasn't really a question.

I cursed Vanessa in my head and reached for the only move I had.

"Two-dollar dupe off a discount app. Want the link?"

The System despaired on my behalf.

[That is a garbage excuse. Go home, girl. Just go home.]

Roman pressed his lips together. Whether he bought it, I couldn't tell.

Vanessa, losing the thread, grabbed for the room's attention again. "Ms. Quaid. Why was my bracelet in your bag?"

I kept my voice level. "I didn't put it there. And I've been standing by the door this whole time with my hands full. So either it grew legs, or someone walked it in." I looked at her. Just looked. "Check the cameras. I'd love to see it too."

The butler shifted, awkward. "There are no cameras in the dining room."

I glanced up. Checked the corners. He was right. Not one.

Vanessa's shoulders eased a fraction.

That was when Poppy spoke up again.

She pointed at Vanessa. Then at my bag. Tiny voice, dead certain.

"She put it in."

Vanessa flinched, then smoothed right back over. "Children make things up. Why on earth would I put my own bracelet in Ms. Quaid's bag?"

Poppy didn't give an inch. She shoved her little arm out instead and showed off the watch on her wrist.

She held it up to me, eyes shining.

"Camera."

It clicked. "Your watch records? You filmed all that just now?"

She nodded, then added, matter-of-fact, "Daddy's phone can see it."

She marched over, lifted Roman's phone, and held it up for him to unlock.

Roman said nothing. He unlocked it and pulled up the video the watch had sent.

Chapter 8

He played it, and the whole room watched it happen.

Vanessa, waiting for the second my back was turned, slipping the bracelet into my bag.

Clear as day.

The dining room went dead silent, then broke into noise all at once.

Vanessa's face drained to white. A breath ago she'd been all wounded grace. Now every head in the room swung toward her, and she stood there and watched her own story come apart on her face.

I let out a slow breath. Without Poppy and that watch, I'd have spent the rest of the night clawing my way out of this.

Roman's mother looked at the woman who had just sworn, loudly, in front of everyone, that she'd never go near my bag. She didn't say a word. She didn't need to. You could watch the engagement die behind her eyes.

I didn't pile on. I'd already won. Twisting the knife would only make me the thing people remembered.

Poppy blinked up at me, fishing for praise.

I smiled and ruffled her hair. Meant every word of it. "Good girl. You're amazing."

* * *

I never saw Vanessa again.

She'd come after me because the kid liked me too much, I think. I was in the way of the cozy little stepmother story she was writing for herself. So she'd tried to frame me out of a job.

Instead, she talked Roman's parents right out of the marriage.

Grayson, when he heard, was thrilled.

"My parents must love you now. The banquet tomorrow night. Come with me?"

I nodded and said yes.

It was the first time Grayson took me anywhere in public.

The whole room turned to look. A few people came straight over to ask what we were.

Grayson glanced down at me, sweet and obedient on his arm, and smiled.

"My fiancee."

The room erupted. Congratulations came at us from every side.

The banquet was nearly over and nothing important had happened yet. I caved and asked the System what the big moment was supposed to be.

The second I asked, a stir went up at the door.

[There. There she is.] The System was vibrating. [The female lead has arrived!]

I stopped mid-thought and looked.

And there she was. The real one. The girl I'd been built to stand in for.

Trench coat, breathless, like she'd run the whole way. She stood in the doorway and looked at Grayson for a long, long moment.

Then, soft and wet: "Grayson. I'm back."

Their big cold war, over. Just like that, the second she stepped off a plane.

Which meant the stand-in was finished. Me.

Grayson slid his hand out of mine, slow, and turned toward her.

I wiped at my eyes, squeezed out two tears, caught his sleeve, and made my voice small and pitiful. "Chuan..."

He went stiff. He still didn't look at me.

Then he crossed the floor and pulled her in like a man getting back something he thought he'd buried. He didn't spare me a single glance. He just took her hand and led her upstairs, toward a room, and left me standing in the wreckage with an audience.

I wiped my face and asked the System if I was done crying yet.

[No. Time to go villain.] Its voice flipped. [Get up to that room and blow up their little reunion.]

I blinked. Go villain?

Ten minutes later I was creeping down a back hallway, hating every step.

I had zero intention of actually ruining anyone's night. The plan was to go up, stage some token scene the System would sign off on, and leave. Bare minimum. A villain on paper only.

To get up there, I needed Grayson's room key. I dug it out of my bag.

And found a second one sitting right beside it.

Roman's.

I'd written him a new meal plan and meant to drop it off. He was at the banquet too, so he'd handed me a key and told me to come find him.

Two key cards. I turned them over, trying to remember which one was Grayson's.

Footsteps, somewhere behind me. Someone coming.

I grabbed one from memory and went up.

Outside the door, I swiped it. The light blinked green.

I pushed it open.

Chapter 9