POV: VIVIAN
I woke up to my phone exploding.
Not metaphorically. It was literally vibrating so hard it fell off my nightstand and hit the floor with a crack that probably meant a shattered screen. I grabbed it, squinting at the too-bright display. 6:47 AM. The day after graduation.
Two hundred and thirty-four notifications.
My stomach dropped before I even opened the first one. I knew. Somehow, I knew this was about Chase.
The top notification was from TMZ. I clicked it with shaking hands.
"BREAKING: Columbia Graduation Crasher Revealed as Sterling Industries Heir"
Below the headline was a photo of Chase from yesterday, walking off the stage after kissing Sienna. But this photo had a caption: "Chase Sterling, 24, sole heir to the Sterling Industries fortune (estimated $8.7 billion), makes dramatic statement at Columbia graduation."
I read it three times before the words actually registered.
Sterling Industries. Eight point seven billion dollars.
I clicked through to the full article. Photos of Chase at charity galas, standing next to his father Dominic Sterling. Chase at business conferences. Chase boarding private jets. A whole life I'd never known existed.
"Sterling, who kept his identity secret throughout his four years at Columbia per family tradition, publicly revealed his status following graduation ceremony yesterday. Sources say he was recently rejected by valedictorian Vivian Ashford, 23, who called him 'a nobody' hours before the dramatic kiss seen round the internet."
My hands started shaking so hard I almost dropped the phone again.
Eight point seven billion dollars.
I'd called him a nobody. I'd rejected his proposal because I thought he was broke. Because the ring was small and simple and everything about him screamed struggling graduate with student loans and a uncertain future.
And he'd been rich the entire time.
Richer than anyone I'd ever strategically positioned myself near. Richer than the sons of directors I'd dated. Richer than Marcus Webb, the producer I'd been planning to meet in LA. Richer than my wildest, most ambitious calculations.
I'd had him. For two years, I'd had exactly what I wanted, and I'd thrown it away because I didn't know what I had.
The noise that came out of me was somewhere between a laugh and a scream. I pressed my hand over my mouth, but it was too late. My mother burst through my door.
"Vivian, have you seen the news?"
"Yeah." My voice sounded hollow. "I've seen it."
She sat on the edge of my bed, phone in her hand, already fully dressed and made up even though it was barely seven in the morning. Of course she'd been up. Of course she'd been monitoring this.
"Chase Sterling. The Sterling heir. You were dating him for two years and you didn't know?"
"He never told me."
"How could you not know? Didn't you do any research on him?"
"His social media said Chase Sterling, but Sterling is a common last name. He lived in a regular apartment, Mom. Worked two jobs. Wore normal clothes. How was I supposed to know?"
My mother's face was doing that thing where she was calculating, running through scenarios and possibilities. The same face she'd had when my father lost everything, when we'd moved from Westchester to Queens, when she'd realized her own acting career was dead and her only hope was living through me.
"You rejected him." Her voice was ice. "Yesterday morning, you rejected a marriage proposal from a billionaire."
"I didn't know he was a billionaire."
"That's not going to matter to anyone else." She turned her phone to show me Twitter. I was trending. #VivianAshford, right below #ChaseSterling and #ColumbiaGraduation.
The tweets were brutal.
"Imagine rejecting a billionaire because you think he's broke. That's next level stupid."
"Vivian Ashford really thought she was too good for Chase Sterling. The irony is delicious."
"Gold digger gets what she deserves."
"Wait, she rejected him BEFORE knowing he was rich. So she's not a gold digger, she's just the worst judge of character in history."
I scrolled through more. Each one worse than the last. Photos of me from yesterday, frozen at the podium. Memes already. Videos with commentary. My rejection had become entertainment for millions of strangers.
"You need to fix this." My mother stood up, pacing my small room. "Call him. Apologize. Explain it was a misunderstanding. Tell him you were scared, that you panicked, that you didn't mean what you said."
"I'm not doing that."
"Vivian, this is your future we're talking about. Do you understand what being married to Chase Sterling would mean? The life you could have? The opportunities?"
"I understand perfectly." I looked at her, this woman who'd given up everything for a man with money, who'd spent my entire childhood pushing me toward success she'd never achieved. "That's exactly why I can't call him."
"What are you talking about?"
"If I call him now, everyone will know exactly what I am. They'll know I only want him for his money. At least right now there's ambiguity. At least right now I can say I loved him when I thought he had nothing."
It was a lie. I'd rejected him specifically because he had nothing. But my mother didn't need to know that the headlines were more accurate than they realized.
She stared at me like I'd lost my mind. "Who cares what people think? You'd be married to a billionaire."
"I care what I think." Another lie. I cared what everyone thought. But I cared more about the long game. "If I grovel now, I'm weak. I'm the girl who chased money. If I walk away, if I make something of myself without him, then maybe I have leverage later."
My mother's expression shifted. She understood strategy, even if she didn't like it. "You're planning to make him chase you."
"I'm planning to become someone worth chasing." I stood up, opened my closet. "I have auditions in LA. I was supposed to go next week. I'm leaving today."
"Running away won't fix this."
"I'm not running away. I'm choosing my battlefield." I started throwing clothes into a suitcase. "Right now, everyone's talking about how I rejected Chase Sterling. In six months, they'll be talking about Vivian Ashford, the actress. The one who didn't need his money to make it."
My phone kept buzzing. I glanced at it. Text from a blocked number.
"You could have had everything. Now you get to watch me burn it all down."
Chase. Had to be.
Good. Let him be angry. Angry meant he still cared. Indifferent would have been worse.
My mother left, muttering about wasted opportunities and foolish pride. I packed methodically, planning my next moves. LA. Auditions. I'd meet with Marcus Webb, the producer who'd been emailing me about a project. I'd network, smile, do whatever it took to get roles.
I'd build my own empire. And then, when I was successful enough, famous enough, valuable enough in my own right, maybe Chase Sterling would realize what he'd lost.
Or maybe I'd realize I'd already lost everything that mattered.
I shook off that thought. Feelings were a luxury I couldn't afford right now.
My phone rang. Ethan. I almost didn't answer, but Ethan was Switzerland in any drama. Safe.
"Hello?"
"Vivian." His voice was careful. "Have you seen the news?"
"Everyone's seen the news, apparently."
"I'm calling because I thought you should know that people are taking sides. The journalism students, most of Chase's friends from the business school, they're Team Chase. The theater kids are split, but most are defending you."
"Team Chase versus Team Vivian. How very high school."
"It's worse than that. People are choosing where to go for graduation parties based on whether you or Chase will be there. It's gotten that petty."
I closed my suitcase harder than necessary. "Tell everyone I won't be at any parties. I'm leaving for LA today."
"Today? Vivian, that's exactly what Chase wants. He wants you to run."
"I'm not running. I'm relocating." I sat on my suitcase to zip it. "I have a career to build, Ethan. One that has nothing to do with Chase Sterling or his fortune."
"Okay." He sounded doubtful. "Just be careful out there. And maybe don't look at social media for a while."
Too late for that. After we hung up, I opened Instagram. Twitter. Facebook. TikTok. Every platform had the same story, the same photos, the same commentary about my spectacular failure.
And then I found it. Chase had posted.
A photo of him in a perfectly tailored suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, standing in what was obviously a Sterling Industries office, Manhattan skyline behind him. The caption: "Sometimes the best revenge is success. #NewBeginnings #SterlingIndustries"
Sixty thousand likes in three hours. Comments full of people praising him, sympathizing with him, calling him an icon.
And women. So many women in the comments.
"You deserve someone who sees your worth."
"Her loss is someone else's gain."
"Call me when you're ready to date again."
My jaw clenched. He was moving on. Publicly. Making sure I saw it.
Fine. Two could play that game.
I opened my own Instagram, selected a photo from last week. Me in a sundress, golden hour lighting, looking effortlessly beautiful. I'd been saving it for the right moment. This was it.
Caption: "New city, new dreams, new chapter. LA, here I come. #Grateful #MovingForward #FocusedOnMe"
I posted it before I could overthink it. Within minutes, the likes started pouring in. Supportive comments from theater friends. A few snarky ones from Chase's crowd. But mostly, people were eating it up. The drama. The scandal. The public breakup playing out in real time.
My phone buzzed with a news alert. Chase was doing an interview. Live. Right now.
I shouldn't watch. I knew I shouldn't watch.
I watched.
The interviewer, a polished woman in her forties with helmet hair and too-white teeth, smiled at the camera. "We're here with Chase Sterling, newly announced heir to Sterling Industries, who made headlines yesterday with a very public display at his Columbia graduation. Chase, thank you for joining us."
"Thank you for having me." Chase's voice was smooth, controlled. Corporate. This wasn't the boy who'd stayed up late studying philosophy with me. This was the heir. The billionaire. The man I'd never really known.
"Let's address the elephant in the room. Yesterday's incident with former girlfriend Vivian Ashford has gone viral. What can you tell us about that?"
Chase smiled, but it was cold. Calculated. "I'd rather not give too much attention to someone who's clearly seeking it. I will say that it's interesting how quickly some people's attitudes change when they learn about financial circumstances. Makes you wonder about motivations."
My hands clenched around my phone.
"Are you suggesting Miss Ashford was interested in your money?"
"I'm suggesting that actions speak louder than words. She rejected me when she thought I had nothing. But I notice she's very active on social media now that the truth is out. Interesting timing, wouldn't you say?"
The interviewer nodded sympathetically, like they were old friends discussing a mutual annoyance. "It must be difficult, wondering if people care about you or your fortune."
"It's a lesson learned. I'm grateful for it, actually. Better to know someone's true nature before making permanent commitments." Chase leaned back, completely at ease. "Sterling Industries has been my family's legacy for three generations. I'm focused on continuing that legacy now, not on distractions from people who showed their true colors."
Distractions. He'd called me a distraction.
I turned off my phone before I threw it across the room.
He was destroying me. Publicly. Methodically. Painting me as a gold digger on national television when the truth was so much more complicated than that.
Yes, I wanted money. Yes, I'd built my entire life around securing a future where I'd never be poor again. But I'd loved him too. I'd loved the late nights and the debates and the way he made me think. I'd loved him despite his apparent poverty, even if I couldn't commit to that poverty forever.
And he'd lied. For two years, he'd lied about who he was, what he had, everything.
We were both liars. Both manipulators. Both exactly what we accused each other of being.
Maybe that's why it hurt so much.
My flight boarded two hours later. I took my seat in coach, because I couldn't afford anything better, and stared out the window as New York disappeared below me.
Chase Sterling thought he'd won. Thought he'd destroyed me with his public humiliation and his television interviews and his perfect revenge.
He had no idea what I was capable of.
I'd go to LA. I'd meet with Marcus Webb. I'd audition for every role I could get. I'd smile and charm and do whatever it took to make it. I'd become so successful, so famous, so undeniably valuable that Chase Sterling would see my face everywhere and know exactly what he'd lost.
I'd prove I didn't need his money to be somebody.
And maybe, just maybe, I'd prove it to myself too.
The plane took off, carrying me away from Chase, from the scandal, from everything I'd built and lost in twenty-four hours.
But I could still see his dark eyes every time I closed mine.
Still feel the weight of that ring box in my memory.
Still hear my own voice calling him a nobody.
The worst part wasn't that I'd lost him.
The worst part was that I'd lost him before I even knew what I had.