One Million to Break His Heart

My phone buzzed. Unknown caller. I hit “accept” anyway. “Miss Song?” A voice like shattered ice slid through the line. “This is Mrs. Jiang. My son’s… ex-girlfriend?” I choked on my own spit. Oh hell. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said, like she’d just scheduled a manicure. “Don’t leave.” She arrived in six. Her heels clicked like a metronome as she swept into my apartment, nose twitching at the thrift-store couch I’d thrifted twice. “One million dollars,” she snapped, snapping her diamond-studded clutch shut. “Sleep with my son. Break his heart. Make it hurt. Let him drown in heartbreak, and maybe he’ll finally grow a spine.” I blinked. “You want me to… what?” “He’s wasting away,” she hissed. “Crying over you like some lovesick puppy. Disgusting.” I snorted. “With all due respect, ma’am—he’s the one who’s broken. I’m the one who dumped him.” Her eyes narrowed into venomous slits. “You dared?” “Voluntarily! Selflessly!” I grinned, leaning into the guilt. “Like a noble martyr. But since you’re offering…” I paused, “Sure. I’ll do it again.” She stared at me like I’d just confessed to stealing candy from a baby. I shrugged, faking nonchalance. “What? I’m not greedy. I’m just a humanitarian.” Her laugh was a blade. “How… delightfully shameless.” She signed the contract like she was sentencing a traitor to death. I scribbled my name with equal drama. “Just to clarify—this proves the money’s a gift, right? No suing me for emotional damages later?” “You’re concerned about that?” Her eyebrow arched higher than my credit score. “I’m a careful humanitarian.” She finally cracked a smile. “Admirable.” Then she leaned in, all regal venom. “Now tell me—why did you throw away my son?” I sighed. “The usual. Poor girl, rich boy. Cinderella’s curse.” “Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You think I care about your feelings ? Finish the job. I’ll wire half now, half later.” “Deal.” I grinned. “Cooperation is such a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” She didn’t shake my hand. She just left. The half-million hit my account two hours later. I transferred it to my secret “paranoia points” savings account. Then I called my best friend, Tongtong. “Help me sabotage my ex,” I announced. She shot me a withering look. “You’re awful.” “I’m pragmatic! If it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. Why not get paid for it?” “…One million?” Her voice wavered. “Ten percent commission if you help.” She slammed her fist on the table. “Fine! I’ll brainstorm every trick in Sun Tzu’s book.” I grinned. “Great. First idea—” “Nope.” She cut me off. “ We’re skipping the ‘beauty trap.’ He just got dumped by you. He’s not gonna fall for it.” “Right.” I sighed. “Guess I’ll have to use plan B.” “What’s plan B?” “…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just cry on his shoulder and hope for the best?” Tongtong groaned. “You are awful. And doomed.”