During lunch, he said in front of his friends, “I’ve canceled the wedding – I don’t love you anymore.”
I replied, “Thank you for your honesty.” Then I stood up, took back the ring, and announced that instead of a wedding, I would be throwing a “narrow escape” party. His friends stopped laughing when I added…
Chapter 1: The Drama at Le Coucou
Le Coucou restaurant in SoHo on Friday afternoon was filled with the clatter of knives and forks and conversations about stock prices. The warm golden light from the French-style chandeliers couldn’t dispel the chill creeping down my spine.
I, Elena Vance, 28, sat opposite my fiancé, Mark Sterling. Around us were his three closest friends – typical Wall Street “bros”: Jason, Eric, and Tyler. They were laughing boisterously, drinking white wine at midday, and looking at me with a pitying gaze I didn’t understand the reason for.
Mark, 32, Director of Sterling Capital, tapped his fork against his wine glass.
“Everyone,” Mark said, his voice echoing, drawing the attention of several nearby tables. He turned to me, flashing a smile I once thought was charming, but now it looked like a crack in an icy lake.
“Elena, I’ve been thinking a lot,” Mark began, his voice low. “The wedding next month… I think we should stop.”
I froze, the napkin in my hand falling onto my lap. “What did you say?”
“I’ve canceled the wedding,” Mark said, leaning back in his chair, the air of a superior firing an employee. “I realize I don’t love you anymore. You… are too safe. Too boring. I need a woman with fire, with ambition, like Jessica.”
Jason and Eric chuckled. Tyler feigned a cough to hide his sarcastic smile. Jessica – Mark’s hot secretary.
Blood rushed to my face. He chose to break up with me right here in a crowded restaurant, in front of his friends, just to humiliate me. He wanted me to cry, to create a pathetic scene so he could play the victim of a “crazy woman” stalking me.
They were waiting for the tears. They were waiting for the collapse.
But they didn’t know who I was.
I was a Data Analyst for the Financial Crimes Investigation Bureau (FinCEN). Mark only knew I was a low-paying “government accountant.” He never cared about the details of my work.
I took a deep breath. Instead of crying, I felt a strange calm spread through me. The calm of a hunter whose prey willingly walks into a trap.
“Thank you for your honesty,” I replied, my voice steady and clear.
The smile on Mark’s lips froze. His friends stopped laughing. This wasn’t the reaction they expected.
I stood up, adjusting my business dress. I looked down at Mark.
“Actually, I was going to talk to you today. But you made the first move, fine.”
I took off my 3-carat diamond engagement ring. I placed it on the table, right next to Mark’s plate of snails.
“Take it,” I said. “It’s a fake anyway.”
“What?” Mark’s face turned crimson. “Are you crazy? That’s Tiffany & Co.!”
“It’s black market Zirconia, Mark. I had it authenticated the first week,” I said with a cold smile. “But that’s not the main point.”
I glanced around the table, at the bewildered faces of Jason, Eric, and Tyler.
“I won’t be upset, guys. Actually, instead of a wedding, I’m having a party tonight. The party’s name is ‘Narrow Escape’.”
Jason burst out laughing. “Narrow escape? You just lost a millionaire. You’re the one who drowned.”
Eric chimed in: “That’s right, a loser’s farewell party?”
I looked Jason straight in the eye.
“No,” I said softly. “I called it ‘Escape from Death’ because…”
I paused, letting curiosity kill their arrogance.
“…Because I won’t be the co-author on the upcoming FBI indictment.”
Chapter 2: The Fading Smiles
The atmosphere at the table suddenly froze.
Jason stopped laughing, his glass of wine suspended in mid-air. Tyler frowned. Mark’s face was deathly pale.
“What… what the hell are you talking about?” Mark stammered, trying to maintain his composure, but sweat was already beading on his forehead.
I pulled a yellow envelope from my bag. I didn’t give it to Mark. I tossed it onto the table, right in front of Jason, Eric, and Tyler.
“You guys think Mark is a genius investor, right?” I asked. “How much did you give him? $2 million each? Or $5 million?”
The three men exchanged bewildered glances.
“Mark told you guys he invested in cryptocurrency and real estate in Dubai. He showed you reports of 20% monthly returns,” I continued, my voice sharp. “But have you ever wondered why he always insists on transferring money to shell companies in the Cayman Islands?”
Jason, the one who had invested the most, trembled as he opened the envelope.
Inside were detailed bank statements.
“That’s a money flow diagram,” I pointed to the paper. “Your money isn’t going to Dubai. It’s going straight into Mark’s personal account to pay for his Ferrari, his penthouse, and expensive gifts for his mistress, Jessica.”
“Mark?” Jason looked up, his eyes blazing at his best friend. “Is he telling the truth?”
“Don’t listen to her!” Mark yelled, jumping to his feet.
“She’s jealous! She wants to ruin my reputation! She’s crazy!”
“I may be crazy,” I shrugged. “But I know how to read a balance sheet. Mark is running a Ponzi scheme. He’s taking money from later investors to pay earlier ones. And this month… the cash flow is depleted. He plans to use our wedding to raise more money and gifts from my family to fill the gap.”
I turned to Mark, smiling sympathetically.
“You broke up with me because you thought you’d found a new ‘gold mine’ in Jessica, the daughter of the construction tycoon, right? You thought she’d save you?”
Mark was speechless. That was exactly his plan.
“Too bad, Mark,” I shook my head. “This morning I sent a copy of this file to Jessica’s father. He… wasn’t very happy.”
Chapter 3: The Twist of Friends
Eric and Tyler stood up, surrounding Mark.
“What did you do with my money?” Tyler grabbed Mark by the collar. “That’s my parents’ mortgage!”
“Calm down! I’ll pay! I’m just… having a temporary break!” Mark pleaded, his eyes darting frantically for an escape.
“A temporary break?” I sneered. “Mark, you’ve spent it all. Your account balance this morning was negative $500.”
I looked at my watch.
“And the reason I called this party ‘Narrow Escape’ wasn’t just for me.”
I looked at Mark’s three friends.
“You guys almost died too. Mark forged your signatures to open fake credit card loans in your names to maintain his scam. If I hadn’t discovered it and stopped it in time, you’d each be $1 million more in debt to the bank right now.”
Jason, Eric, and Tyler collapsed. They realized that the friend they trusted, the one they had just laughed at me with, was the one who had stabbed them in the back.
Their glee vanished, replaced by overwhelming fear and rage.
“You bastard!” Jason punched Mark hard in the face.
Mark tumbled to the floor of the luxurious restaurant. The whole place was in chaos.
“Did I call the police?” I pretended to wonder. “Ah, I think so. About five minutes before Mark said goodbye.”
Chapter 4: The End of Lunch
Sirens blared outside the window. Two black FBI SUVs and a New York City police car screeched to a halt in front of the restaurant.
Mark scrambled to his feet, intending to run out the back door.
But Jason and Tyler held him back. Their “brotherly” friendship had vanished, replaced by the bitter hatred of debtors.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Jason hissed. “You have to stay here and explain to the cops.”
FBI agents swarmed in.
“Mark Sterling! You’re arrested for Financial Fraud, Money Laundering, and Fraudulent Appropriation!”
Mark was handcuffed, his face swollen and covered in snail slime. He looked at me, his eyes pleading desperately.
“Elena… you work in the industry… you can help me… I’m sorry… I love you…”
I stepped closer to him, bending down to pick up the fake ring.
“I don’t love anyone, Mark. I only love their money.”
I dropped the ring into his vest pocket.
“Keep it as a memento. Tiffany won’t be in jail.”
I turned to his three friends – the ones who had mocked me just 10 minutes earlier.
“You can come to my office tomorrow to file your complaint. I’ve prepared the paperwork to help you get rid of the fraudulent loans. Consider it a parting gift.”
Jason looked at me, his head bowed in embarrassment. “Thank you, Elena. And… I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright,” I smiled. “At least you’ve learned a lesson: Never laugh at a woman who’s signing her own judgment.”
Chapter End: The Real Party
I walked out of the restaurant, leaving the mess behind. The New York wind was still cold, but I felt incredibly relieved.
My phone vibrated. A message from my father.
“Daughter, I heard. Are you okay?”
I replied: “I’m better than ever, Dad. I just dodged a cannonball.”
That night, I held a real “Escape from Death” party at my apartment. Just me, a bottle of fine (really fine) red wine, and my cat.
I raised my glass, gazing out at the city lights.
I lost a fiancé, but I found my freedom and self-respect again. Mark thought he humiliated me, but he didn’t know he was just a pawn in a game I had already played long ago.
And when the evening news reported the arrest of “The Wolf of Wall Street,” Mark Sterling, I just smiled and changed the channel.
Life is too short to cry for traitors. And too precious not to celebrate escaping hell.
