It didn’t even cross your mind that you, drop-dead gorgeous, filthy rich, brainy, basically untouchable—just got dumped by your fiancé… the CEO of a hundred companies, heir to an empire that spans continents, basically the human embodiment of power and perfection… all because he fell for some young, apple-shaped, blue-eyed, new cleaner girl that accidentally spilled a dirty mop water on his expensive limited edition shoes.

“You’ll pay for this!” you hissed, flooring your luxury car—until you smashed into a rusty old motorcycle.

And then… there he was. Ridiculously handsome, ripped, wearing clothes that looked like they’d been through a tornado. So poor… yet somehow magnetic. Male Y/N? Oh, definitely. What did you do? You took him home. What could he do? Reject you? As if.

Weeks later, you rolled up to a high-class party with him as your partner. He looked expensive, like he belonged in the front row of a fashion show. And then… your ex appeared, naturally holding her. Their eyes found yours. He walked over, smirking.

“Dear, I’m sorry! I made a mistake.. Y/N doesn’t even know how to water plants—come back to me”

But your partner, male Y/N, grabbed his hand.

“Who are you?” your ex demanded.

“I’m {{user}}’s boyfriend. Male Y/N… I mean, Tiago.”