Upgrading To My Billionaire Boss Chapter 2

Sebastian and I started our secret life when we were eighteen.

He was the valedictorian, the golden boy destined for the Ivy League. I was the girl in the middle of the pack—average grades, average looks, mostly invisible. I’d had a crush on him for years, a quiet ache I never intended to share.

But on the day of our high school graduation, my lab partner came up to me with a letter, confessing he’d liked me since freshman year. Sebastian had appeared out of nowhere, grabbed my hand, and told the guy, "Sorry, she’s already taken." He dragged me behind the gym, kissed me for the first time, and told me he loved me.

He even chose a university in the same city as mine. We stayed together for ten years.

If my mother hadn't called me mid-drive three days ago to nag me about my biological clock, I might not have pushed him. I might not have asked him if this was the year we’d finally tell everyone the truth.

I’d phrased it as a question, a soft probe. But Sebastian had erupted.

"Isabel, is there a factory reset button in your brain? Is marriage and babies all you’re capable of thinking about? I told you, I’m not even considering that until I’m thirty. Stop being so desperate."

Then he’d left me at a Starbucks in the middle of nowhere. He didn't care how I’d get home. He didn't care that my phone charger was still in his glove box. He just sent a text ninety minutes later saying my luggage was with the building’s security guard.

That was the moment I realized I was done.

The next day, I heard the news: Sebastian was going on a blind date.

"You're right, Mom," I said, the words feeling like glass in my mouth. "I can't compete with a girl like that. So stop trying to push us together. I’m not in his league."

I walked out the front door to get some air, only to find Sebastian leaning against his porch railing, lighting a cigarette. When he saw me, he instinctively dropped the butt and crushed it under his shoe, looking guilty.

It was a habit from our ten years together. I hated the smell of smoke, so I’d spent a decade trying to get him to quit. He’d always promised he would. He never did; he just got better at hiding it on balconies and street corners.

Looking at him now, I realized how much energy I’d wasted. I shouldn't have tried to change a smoker; I should have just found a man who didn't smoke. Just like I shouldn't have tried to force a man to love me out loud.

I looked away, trying to pull my mother past him, but she broke free, her eyes sparkling with gossip.

"Oh, Sebastian! Is that girl still inside? I saw her through the window—what a stunner. A Master’s student, right? Perfect for a PhD like you. And she’s tall, too! You need a tall woman to match those six-foot-two genes of yours. Don't be too picky, she’s a catch."

Sebastian glanced at me, a cruel, mocking smirk playing on his lips.

"She is a catch," he said, his voice loud enough for me to feel it. "She’s graceful, polite, and actually understands how the world works. She isn't the type to throw a tantrum and demand a ring every five minutes like some hysterical woman."

The insult hit me like a physical blow. I tightened my grip on my mother’s arm.

"Mom, stop bothering him. Don't we have a meeting with that matchmaker? Let’s go."

I didn't look at him. I started walking, but Sebastian’s voice followed me down the driveway.

"Yeah, Isabel! Don't be too picky at the dating agency! You’re twenty-eight with a degree from a state school and a face that’s... let’s say, 'wholesome.' If any guy is willing to take you on, just say yes. Lord knows you’re desperate enough to get hitched."

The pain was a sharp needle in my chest. For years, I told myself he wasn't marrying me because he was focused on his career. Now, I finally saw the truth: he never married me because he was ashamed of me. You don't say things like that to someone you respect.