Chapter 3

The moment the doors to the main hall opened, sound poured out.

The music sharpened, the laughter thickened, and the soft clink of glasses kept time like a background beat.

Mia led me through the crowd, but she didn’t take me anywhere near the front. As we neared the side wing, her pace slowed—as if she’d finally found the spot she wanted.

She pointed to a table against the wall. Two untouched flutes of champagne sat on it beside a small card with a seat number.

“Sit here for now,” she said lightly. “I’m going to say hello to a few people. I’ll be right back.”

I sat down and set my entry card and phone on the tabletop.

Mia turned and walked away. Her heels made almost no sound on the carpet, and she slipped into a small group as if she’d been there all along.

They clearly knew her. Someone lifted a glass toward her, someone patted her shoulder. She smiled and nodded, wearing the practiced ease of a woman who knew how to hold a room.

When Mia mentioned me, she didn’t use my name. She just smiled and casually gestured in my direction.

“That guy?” A man followed her hand, let his eyes rest on me for two seconds, then looked away—like he’d confirmed I was a prop with no real relevance. “A friend?”

Mia held her drink and smiled with perfect manners. “An old classmate. We used to know each other. Haven’t seen him in years—ran into him tonight.”

“Oh.” His interest visibly faded, and he pivoted to something he cared about. “So you’re handling the domestic side now? Jess really isn’t coming back from overseas?”

Mia lifted her chin slightly. “He has projects to push forward over there. My job is to keep things steady here and support him.”

I picked up the program on the table and flipped a couple pages, confirming the night’s rhythm: opening remarks, charity presentation, donation segment, special guest speech.

The schedule was tight, nearly designed to leave no room for wandering attention.

A few emails waited on my phone. I skimmed them, replied with two short, decisive lines, and locked tomorrow morning’s meeting time.

The rules of the movie world had always been brutal: the leads got the screen time, supporting characters got fewer lines—and sometimes, not even a chance to explain themselves when they were misunderstood.

Living that way had trained me to ignore being ignored, and to get things done where no spotlight reached.

A few minutes later, Mia finished her circuit and returned with her glass in hand.

“I’m so sorry,” she said with a smile, though her eyes were measuring my reaction. “I got talking and lost track of time. Left you here all alone.”

“It’s fine.” I closed the program. “Do what you need to do.”

The smile on Mia’s lips tightened just slightly.

“I ran into a few old friends,” she said casually. “They all said I’ve had it rough these past few years—but that it was worth it. Honestly, Rowan, you’re not still upset about what happened back then, are you? I had doubts too, but the truth is, leaving you and choosing Jess was the right call. Look at me now—I can sit at the table and talk business, I can make decisions. That’s life. Make the right choice, and everything changes.”

I didn’t argue.

Mia kept going. “You were always like this, Rowan. You thought sticking behind Jess would still get you to the finish line. But look—Jess isn’t even in the country anymore. After you left him, who’s going to take you seriously? You need to learn how to be the main character, not someone who’s always behind other people.”

There was pity in her tone, as if she were offering sympathy.

I slid my glass a little to the side so it wouldn’t tip, then looked up and asked the question that had been sitting in the back of my mind the entire time.

“So your ‘choice’ was just… dating the ‘main character’?”

It sounded less like an argument and more like stating a rule out loud.

Mia’s face darkened for a second.

“The movie’s over, Mia. There are no main characters here,” I said. “If you use ordinary, worldly success to define leads and supporting roles, then there are too many ‘leads’ to count. No matter how successful you are, in front of someone more successful, you’re still a supporting role.”

Mia gave a cold laugh. “And that’s how you’ve been comforting yourself all these years?”

I felt a flicker of fatigue. “To be honest, Mia, everything you’ve said tonight—every sentence—has been trying to prove how right you were back then. But I don’t care about that. I’ve imagined what it would be like to run into you again. I thought maybe we’d drink champagne and talk about high school, or whether you’ve gotten a dog, or where you want to travel next. Not… this.”

She paused, then reset her smile like putting a mask back on. Her tone hardened. “You’re still the same. You always know how to make things sound nice. But reality is reality. Nights like this don’t change because you say ‘there are no main characters.’ You can settle for being background because you’re used to it. I can’t. I’m meant to stand at the center of the stage.”

I didn’t continue.

Arguing would only drag the conversation back into the emotional arena she wanted, and I wasn’t going to spend time inside her script.

From the stage came a soft sound as the audio was adjusted. The lighting began to dim slowly, as if someone were turning down the volume of the room itself.

A server came by to clear empty plates and reminded guests to return to their seats.

The crowd’s movement gained direction. People flowed toward the brighter area, ready for the formal program to begin.

Mia leaned closer and said, “I’m not here to judge your situation, but since I brought you in tonight, don’t embarrass me. Don’t act like a clown like you did in high school. This evening matters to me.”

I didn’t nod. I didn’t protest. I simply turned my phone facedown on the table and lifted my eyes to the stage.

The host was already up there—sharp suit, microphone in hand. His voice spread through the speakers into every corner of the room.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for joining us tonight for this charity gala…” He followed the script—thanks, introductions, the cause, the sponsors—steady pace, clear diction. On the big screen, a short film about the charity project began to play. As the images shifted, the hall grew darker, leaving the stage as the only bright focal point.

When the host finished one round, he smiled and paused, letting applause rise naturally.

Then he lifted his hand to cue the next segment. His tone rose slightly, gathering the room’s attention into a single point.

“Next, we’ll welcome the most important special guest of the evening. His support has made this project possible, and it also opens the door to new partnerships.” The host’s gaze swept across the room, searching for a point near the entrance. “Please join me in welcoming—”

The hall went quiet for a beat. Even the clink of glass disappeared.

Mia straightened instinctively, eyes fixed on the entrance as if waiting for a confirmation meant for her.

The host raised his hand and pointed toward the doors, his voice crisp and unmistakable—

“Please welcome the founder and CEO of Hart Group: Rowan Hart.”