The Billionaire's Accidental Lover

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

Olivia barely reached the final note when the world cracked open.

"Let's break up," Casper said. His voice was terrifyingly casual, like he was deciding what to order for dessert. "To be exact, I'm breaking up with you. I've already proposed to the woman I love. We're getting married in June."

Olivia's lips went numb. The song died in her throat, replaced by a sharp, cold ache. "What... what are you talking about, Casper?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes. He just reached across the table and snatched the Rolex box, the one she had emptied her savings to buy him.

"The bill is on you," he muttered, standing up and smoothing his jacket. "Consider it a parting gift."

He walked out. No backward glance. No apology. Just the sound of his expensive shoes clicking against the restaurant floor.

 Olivia sat frozen. The candlelight flickered, mocking her. The cake she'd spent hours baking sat between them like a ridiculous, frosted joke. She could feel the stares of the other patrons, their pity settling on her skin like a film of oil.

Her throat burned, but she refused to let the effort go to waste. With shaking hands, she grabbed a fork and dug into the cake.

She shoved the sweetness into her mouth, swallow after painful swallow, using the sugar to choke down the sobs that wanted to tear out of her. She ate until her stomach hurt, until frosting smeared her cheeks, trying to fill the hollow, echoing space Casper had left behind.

 You weren't enough, the voice in her head hissed. You were never enough.

Olivia didn't remember the walk home. She just remembered the rhythm of her heels hitting the pavement and the cold realization that her bank account was as empty as her heart. She didn't even have up to twenty dollars for a taxi ride.

The last time she had cried this hard, she was ten years old, clutching a faded polaroid of her mother and waiting for a door to open that never did.

Tonight, the grief was different. It was sharper. It felt like a physical wound that refused to stop bleeding.

"That absolute bastard," Mia hissed, pulling Olivia closer on the sofa. Olivia had barely made it through the door before the story came pouring out. "I knew he was a snake, Liv. I knew it. But a summer wedding? While he was still eating your dinner and wearing the clothes you bought him?"

Mia's words were meant to be a shield, but they felt like pebbles thrown against a collapsing wall. Olivia just buried her face in the sleeve of Mia's oversized hoodie, the scent of laundry detergent and home doing nothing to settle her stomach.

The sharp, insistent trill of Mia's phone cut through the quiet. Mia tried to ignore it, but the caller-Cynthia-wasn't the type to take a hint.

"Hello, Cynthia, look, now isn't a good-"

"Did you see them?" Cynthia's voice