My Reunion Needed a Reality Check

My family got rich off mining. Like, stupid rich. The day I was born, Grandpa bought half a mountain to celebrate. When I turned three, my family did that birthday thing where you pick an object. I grabbed a gold calculator. By that night, I had my own trust fund. In elementary school, even the principal shot to his feet whenever my parents walked into a conference. Then, when I was ten, someone tried to kidnap me. My parents lost it. They moved me into a normal apartment complex, put me in cheap outlet clothes, and made me eat the cheapest stuff in the cafeteria. Honestly? I loved it. It was quiet. Easy. Then came our five-year class reunion. Dylan, my old crush, spotted me in a delivery uniform and laughed. Then he stuck me at the servers' table. Mandy Lawton, our class's former queen bee, gave me a fake-sweet smile. "Oh, don't say that. For Willow, supporting herself is already a huge accomplishment." Everyone lifted their glasses. "Good thing Dylan rejected her. Otherwise, he'd be crammed into some tiny apartment, eating boxed mac and cheese every night." I didn't even blink. I was too busy staring at the document on my phone. [Ms. Whitford, please confirm your acceptance of full ownership of Evermont Resources by 9:00 p.m. tonight.] I sighed. 'Seriously?' I wanted one quiet dinner. Instead, they had to go and blow up my whole broke-girl act. Chapter 1 "Oh my God, our golden girl's sighing. What's wrong? Food not good enough for you?" Mandy covered her mouth, laughing, her eyes full of mockery. I sat at the tiny servers' table and ignored her. My eyes stayed glued to my phone. "Willow, quit pretending you can't hear us," one of Mandy's friends called. "Dylan was nice enough to get you out of the rain, and you can't even thank him? So ungrateful." "Seriously. Look at that delivery jacket. Those grease stains are basically baked in. And she reeks like old fryer oil." "Good thing this room's huge. Anywhere smaller, that smell would kill us." I looked at them, totally calm. The guy talking used to be one of our school's student athletes. Back then, he'd practically begged to copy my homework. Now he stared at me like I was gross. "I washed this jacket yesterday." I delivered food to collect real market data for Evermont Resources. Never thought it'd become their favorite insult. "You washed it? With the cheapest bar soap you could find?" Mandy leaned back like being broke was contagious. "Come on, don't be so mean. Willow works hard delivering food to support herself. Sure, the sun and wind wrecked her skin, but at least she earns honest money." The whole room cracked up. "Honest money? Yeah, right." "Some delivery drivers will do anything for a bigger tip." "I saw this story about a girl making a late-night delivery. Guess she delivered more than food." A few guys traded gross looks and laughed. I frowned. They weren't even trying to hide how nasty they were. After someone tried to kidnap me at ten, my parents buried my real identity to keep me safe. I'd always thought normal people lived simpler, more genuine lives. 'Guess I gave people way too much credit.' "That's enough." I set my phone down, my voice flat. "I came for dinner. I'll leave when I'm done." "Dinner?" Mandy sneered. "Wow, you really think you belong here." She looked me up and down. "Do you even know who's paying? Dylan. This is the best VIP suite at the Celestine Grand. Minimum spend is eighty-eight hundred bucks. You could deliver food for a year and still not afford one dish." She got up and walked over. "Don't tell me you still think you're the school's golden girl. Back then, you acted all untouchable, rejecting every guy who confessed to you." Her smile sharpened. "And now? You're stuck at the servers' table like a stray, drooling over our leftovers." I looked at her jealousy-twisted face. Honestly, it was almost funny. Eighty-eight hundred? The Celestine Grand belonged to Evermont Resources. My dad used this exact suite to serve janitors afternoon tea. "Mandy, half your eyelid tape is peeling off." Figured she'd want to know. Chapter 2 Mandy's face fell. Snickers rippled through the room. "Willow Whitford! Stop changing the subject!" She snapped and flung out her hand. Red wine splashed across my delivery jacket. "You stained my jacket." I looked at her coldly. "So what? It's trash." Mandy pulled out a fifty and smacked it across my face. "That cover it?" The bill drifted to the floor. I left it there. Instead, I checked my phone. 8:55 p.m. Five minutes left. "What? Not enough?" Mandy's smirk grew when I stayed quiet. "Then beg. Maybe I'll toss you a few more bucks." "Mandy, enough." Dylan Chedd, our former class president, finally spoke from the head of the table. Tailored suit. Rolex. Perfect hair. He looked like he'd walked straight out of a business magazine. "She's miserable enough already. Don't make it worse." His eyes dripped with pity. "Willow, since you're here, don't leave yet." "Dylan, what are you trying to pull?" I looked at the guy I used to crush on. Now, all I felt was disgust. Back in high school, Dylan was smart, cute, and basically everyone's type. Now he just screamed smug corporate bro—way too confident for a guy who wasn't nearly as hot as he thought. "What I mean is simple." He slid his hands into his pockets and leaned closer. "I know why you showed up dressed like this. You heard I got promoted to regional director, so now you're trying to get my attention and use me to climb the ladder, right?" I was so annoyed that I laughed. "Are you actually delusional?" He didn't even flinch. "You don't have to pretend. Everyone knew you had a crush on me in high school. I just didn't feel the same." He glanced at my uniform. "It's been five years. You ended up like... this, and I'm a regional director at a Fortune 500 company." He reached out to pat my shoulder. I stepped back, disgusted. His expression darkened. "Willow Whitford, don't push it. I know you're insecure now. You think you're not good enough for me. "But I'm not the kind of guy who judges people by money." Sure. He pulled his hand back. "Tell you what. Food delivery looks brutal. My company's hiring a janitorial supervisor. "The pay's only five grand a month, but it's respectable. No more running around in the heat and rain. Full benefits, too. Retirement plan." The room exploded. "Wow, Dylan's way too nice!" "Seriously. She rejected him, and he's still helping her." "Willow, what are you waiting for? Thank him. This job practically fell into your lap!" "Five grand a month! Do you know how many deliveries that would take?" I stared at his smug face, speechless. "Dylan, do you actually think you're funny?" I held his gaze. "When did I say I needed a job? And this Fortune 500 company of yours—what's it called?" He lifted his chin. "Stellar Tech. Heard of it? One of the biggest tech companies in the country, backed by Evermont Resources—a hundred-billion-dollar conglomerate." Stellar Tech? I narrowed my eyes. Wasn't that the bankrupt company Dad bought last month to restructure? Business was so bad, he was already planning to package it up and sell it. "Oh. Impressive." My voice couldn't have been flatter. Dylan looked even smugger. "Now that you get how big a deal I am, lose the trashy jacket. You're making the whole room look cheap. "Then wait on Mandy. Get her whatever she wants. Do that, and I'll cover your dinner." Mandy jumped right in. "You heard him, Willow. Dylan's giving you a chance. Take it off already. "Or what? You don't have anything decent underneath? Just more dollar-store rags?" The room cracked up again. Chapter 3 I clenched my fists. These people used to be my classmates. This was the normal world I'd tried so hard to fit into after I turned ten. What a joke. I took a breath. "I'm not taking it off. And I don't need your charity. If I'm ruining the vibe, I'll leave." I stood and headed for the door. "Stop." Dylan grabbed my arm. "Who do you think you're fooling with that attitude? You think you're still some spoiled heiress? "You're a delivery driver now. When I tell you to do something, you do it." The look in his eyes made my skin crawl. He didn't want to help me. He wanted control. A voice came from the corner. "Dylan, stop. You're hurting Willow." Sherry Parker. She'd been my best friend in high school. I'd even secretly paid her college tuition with my saved birthday money. She walked over and pulled Dylan's hand off me. "Willow, don't be mad. He's just trying to help." Then she hooked her arm through mine. "Seeing how hard your life is now breaks my heart. "Everyone, stop picking on her. She has her reasons." I stared at her. "My reasons? What reasons?" Sherry sighed. "You don't have to hide it anymore. I saw you at Monarch Lounge last week." My frown deepened. Monarch Lounge belonged to Evermont Resources. I'd gone there last week to audit the books. What did that have to do with anything? "You were wearing this super short skirt and went into a private room with some rich businessman..." She lowered her voice, but made sure everyone heard. "I know you need money, but you shouldn't have to do... that." She took my hand, her eyes turning red. "If things are really that bad, you could've told me. My husband only gives me ten grand a month, but I could still loan you a few hundred." Everyone stared at me in shock and disgust. "No way." "Willow's seriously selling herself at a place like that?" "No wonder she got weird when we mentioned honest money." "So the delivery job's just a cover. She's actually an escort." "That's disgusting. I can't believe I'm in the same room as her." Mandy took two dramatic steps back. "Oh my God, Willow. Do you have no shame? What would your parents think? What about the rest of us?" I stared at the girl I'd once called my best friend, shaking with anger. "Sherry, do you even hear yourself? I went to Monarch Lounge because—" "Because that guy paid well?" she cut in. "Willow, stop lying. I saw him with my own eyes. His arm was around your waist." She pulled out her phone and held it up. The picture was blurry. All it showed was the back of a woman in a short skirt standing beside some potbellied guy. She did look a little like me. Sherry raised her voice. "I didn't want to say anything, but everyone keeps judging Willow, and I couldn't take it anymore. Life pushed her into this. Please, stop pressuring her. Just let her leave." "Sherry Parker, that's complete bullshit!" Chapter 4 I'd had enough. I shoved Sherry's hand away. "That's not me! Why are you using some fake picture to trash me? I treated you like family back then. Is this how you repay me?" Sherry stumbled back and almost fell. Dylan caught her. "Willow! What the hell is wrong with you? Sherry was trying to help, and you shoved her?" He jabbed a finger at me. "You're shameless. You're an embarrassment to our whole class! If I'd known you were this trashy, I never would've let you in tonight!" Mandy sneered. "Exactly. You keep bragging about how good you were to Sherry. Weren't you just showing off back then?" I looked at the hateful faces around me. "Done?" I straightened, my gaze ice-cold. "Then shut up." "You've got a lot of nerve." My attitude only made Dylan madder. He grabbed my collar. "Keep pushing me, Willow, and you won't make it out of this hotel tonight. "You sell yourself for cash, so drop the innocent act. You're paying for dinner. And if you don't, I'll post that picture and show everyone what kind of trash you really are." Spit flew as he ranted. Looking at his twisted face, I almost felt sorry for him. "Let go." "I'm not letting go." Dylan laughed. "What are you gonna do about it?" His other hand reached for my face. "Now that I'm looking, you're actually kinda cute. Spend the night with me, and I'll cover dinner." The guys cracked up. "That's our Dylan!" "Don't hog all the fun!" Mandy and Sherry stood off to the side, grinning while I got humiliated. His hand was inches from my face— I slapped him. The room went dead silent. Dylan grabbed his burning cheek and stared at me. "You... You hit me?" "That's what a delusional creep like you deserves." I shook out my stinging hand, my gaze ice-cold. "Who do you think you are? You're a regional director at a failing company, acting like you own the world. "You're not even in my league." His eyes went red. "You bitch! I'll kill you!" He raised his fist and swung at my face. Several girls screamed. Bang! The private room door flew open. Dylan's fist froze mid-swing. Everyone turned. Four huge bodyguards stood in the doorway, looking scary as hell. Dylan swallowed. "Wh-Who are you? Wrong room." They ignored him and stepped aside. A path opened. A middle-aged man in gold-rimmed glasses strode in, carrying a black briefcase. His gaze swept the room. Then landed on me. He walked straight over, tense and apologetic. "Ms. Whitford, I'm so sorry I'm late."