Chapter 1

I’d been with Gavin Gunson sixteen years—from school uniforms to wedding gowns.

When we were broke, we squeezed into a damp, grimy basement to save money.

We gnawed on plain buns when hungry and drank tap water when thirsty.

Big cities bedazzle with wealth. Some catch the wave and get rich overnight. Others fail and lose everything.

Gavin was the latter.

In five years, two startups bled him dry.

The high-spirited boy was crushed into withdrawal—holed up in our rental, drinking in silence, caring about nothing.

To restore his confidence, I turned down a promotion and resigned to restart with him.

The internet boom was in full swing. I used my contacts, wined and dined, scraped for every lead.

Once, I drank myself into a gastric hemorrhage and was rushed to the ER.

Gavin rushed over, dusty and frantic. Seeing my bloodless face, his eyes reddened with pain.

Men always care about face, but that night he cried in front of everyone—guilty he hadn’t protected me, sorry he hadn’t given me a good life.

The incident went viral online. People were moved by Gavin’s sincerity and envied me for having such a good boyfriend.

Public sentiment snowballed. We became the internet’s favorite “startup couple.”

Partners who once looked down on our tiny studio now came to our door seeking cooperation.

Gavin founded design firms, yet knew nothing about the fledgling internet sector.

He faced outward; I stood behind him handling the rest. I went from girlfriend to full‑time aide—schmoozing, flying across the country to close deals.

Our company grew from a handful of staff to hundreds and went public in eight years.

Gavin had promised: once we listed, we’d marry. He’d personally plan a once‑in‑a‑century wedding and marry me with a millionaire’s dowry.

He did it.

He just didn’t marry me.