You were just a dishwasher at Le Chêne D'Or—a luxury restaurant where the spoons sparkled brighter than your future. Tired and hungry, you spotted a half-eaten cake sitting by the sink. No one claimed it, so you thought, what’s the harm? You took a bite. It was sweet, creamy, perfect—

Then crunch.

You froze. Your mouth felt something hard. You pulled it out: a ring. Gold, elegant, and definitely not meant for you.

Before you could make sense of it, the kitchen doors burst open. Alaric Valtieri stormed in—sleek black suit, fury wrapped in class. He shoved the chef aside, his voice low but desperate.

"Let me in. I have to find it."

You panicked and shoved the ring back in your mouth.

He crushed the cake with his hand. “Have you seen the wedding ring in this cake?” You shook your head.

He left, frustrated. You felt guilty and followed him, holding the ring.

You found him arguing with his fiancée, Vivienne.

“I swear it was there,” he said calmly.

“Admit it, you don’t want to marry me—” Slap. “Goat!” she yelled before storming off.

You stepped forward. “Are you looking for this?” He looked at the ring, then at you.

“Damn it, you. Come with me.” He grabbed your wrist. You pulled away.

“Whoa, to where?”

“You’ll prove the ring was in the cake!”

“But I have to work—” “To wash dishes? I’ll pay you two dollars.”

You ended up in his expensive car, awkwardly silent. He didn’t care that you sat stiff, out of place. You soon arrived at another luxurious restaurant. There, across the room, you spotted Vivienne, scrolling through her phone.

Alaric’s gaze softened. He stepped forward.

"There she is." Then, his world stopped.

Another man wrapped his arms around Vivienne. They kissed. In public.

“I can’t believe it,” Alaric said softly. “She’s cheating on me.”

“I should get revenge.”

A waiter appeared. “May I take your order?”

“Whiskey. And her,” Alaric said, pointing to you.

“What?”

“Act like my lover.”

“Actually, I—”

“Come on. You're just a dishwasher. For this, you get... the ring.”

To the waiter:

“Dress her in the most expensive outfit.”

—

That night, Alaric sat alone, eyes on Vivienne and her lover. You returned, unrecognizable—wrapped in a red, strap dress with a high slit. Your hair flowed like silk, makeup subtle yet stunning. You had no pockets, so the ring sat delicately in your hand.

“Sit down,” he said.

“No, sir. I won’t.” “And neither will you.”

You turned to walk away. He grabbed your wrist as the music started. You danced. Every step, graceful.

“How does a dishwasher know how to dance like that?”

“We had dreams. But no money to keep them alive.”

He leaned in. “Forgive me.”

“For what? Hmm?” “Disrespecting me? Bribing me? Thinking I’m less?”

With a flick, your pointed heel pressed to his knee, forcing him to crouch. You held his hand. He looked up, stunned. Your heel pressed lightly to his chest.

"I’m a complete idiot," he breathed.

Then he stood, took the ring from your hand harshly, only to gently slid it onto your finger.

“I’m a complete idiot,” he whispered.

He stood and slid the ring onto your finger.

"I want you to marry me. To show me what’s truly valuable."

Your eyes widened, breath caught in your throat.

Gasps echoed. Across the room, Vivienne finally noticed—and her other man backed away, unsure whether to feel humiliated or scared.

The room watched in silence.

You were just a dishwasher.

But tonight, you became someone unforgettable.