My Billionaire Enemy Loves Me

Chapter 1 : The Old Flames

"Hey, Amanda, where’s that cranky boss of yours?" Steve asked Daniel’s secretary as he strolled up to her desk, pushing his hair back to reveal his oh-so-proud forehead.

Amanda gave him a blank stare, but the corners of her mouth curled into a sarcastic smile.

"He’s inside, probably discovering he’s allergic to sunlight," she replied, nodding towards the office.

Steve chuckled quietly and gave her a thumbs-up before barging into his older brother’s office without knocking.

Amanda wasn’t wrong. The room was dim, with just enough light from the corners to make it look... well, less like a cave. The blinds were shut tight, and Daniel was sitting with his back to the window like he was plotting world domination.

"Since when did you become a vampire, huh?" Steve snorted, throwing himself into the chair opposite Daniel’s desk. He kicked his feet up onto the other chair, making himself at home.

"Explain."

Daniel’s deadpan stare could’ve melted steel. He didn’t even bother answering Steve’s nonsense. His lips were pursed, and his posture made him look like a grumpy hunchback.

"What? Mr. Billingsley paid me twenty-four grand for that billboard. Who am I to turn down a gift from the heavens?"

Steve grinned wider, knowing it would only irritate his brother more.

"Business is business, big bro. Face it—you’re getting old. And with old age comes the ultimate crankiness. You’re ancient."

He emphasized the word old just to poke at Daniel.

"I’m only a year older than you. And for the record, I’d pay you twenty-five grand to take that damn poster down." Daniel leaned back, crossing his arms like he was sealing the deal.

Business is business like what Steve said, but nothing could mask his deep-seated grudge against that model.

Steve flashed another smug grin, deepening Daniel’s frown.

"Billingsley’s contract is locked for three months, but if you want me to do you this little favor, you’ll owe me. Big time." Steve mirrored his gestures, c*****g his head and dodging the imaginary daggers Daniel was throwing his way. "You’re a billion-dollar man, right? I don’t do one-percent favors. You know I’m your favorite little brother, so I’ll cut you a deal. Or maybe it’s you cutting me one?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "Why do I sense a demonic presence in you?"

"It's because you're the superior of all demons, old brother."

Steve just watched him break his own back.

"The faster you wire the money, the earlier that board goes down," Steve negotiated. "If you don’t pay me until midnight, I will drown you with billboards for the next three years," he threatened, lifting an eyebrow for a dramatic effect.

"You’re so dramatic. Typical younger brother." Daniel rolled his eyes.

"Grumpy, typical old man," Steve retorted, stomping his feet on the ground like a brat.

"I'll pay you now, when’s it coming down?" Daniel peered at the blinds, but stopped himself before actually looking at the billboard.

"Why so impatient?" Steve snorted, pulling out his phone and tapping away. "As soon as I receive the money.."

Daniel almost smiled. Finally, he’d be able to get some peace without that annoying face staring at him from outside his window.

"And by the way," Steve added, still typing, "I was on my way here, but your delightful secretary said you'd burn my building down if I didn’t take down the ad."

He tossed a fancy white-and-gold card onto the small table in the middle of the office.

"We’re invited. Miss it, and you'll have seven years of bad luck. Effective from the night of the event."

Daniel squinted at the card but made no move to get up and check it. "You believe in that crap?"

"Yep. It’s an invite, genius. The reunion’s on Saturday. I’ve got my suit ready, and I’m all set to flash my dimples at the single ladies." Steve winked, laughing at his own joke while Daniel just sat there, silently judging. "If I were you, I’d go. Your life is boring, bro. Besides, you don’t wanna tempt fate and get cursed with bad luck. Or worse—Dad will kill you."

Daniel chuckled. "It’s not Dad I’m worried about, it’s Mom’s nagging."

"Preach. See you on Saturday. Remember our deal!" Steve called over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"I’m wiring the money as soon as that poster’s down, not before!" Daniel shouted after him, grinning slyly. He knew Steve loved money, and no amount of brotherly trickery would ever change that.

"Okay, deal," Steve said, fixing his hair and flashing his deep dimples as he left. "But I have to go, I’ve got a meeting with a beautiful lady."

Daniel snorted. "Last time you had a date, you ran after me to hide."

Steve turned, glaring. "Don’t remind me of that disaster. I still have nightmares." He twisted the doorknob, threw a wave, and slammed the door behind him.

Alone at last, Daniel rolled his eyes and turned back to his laptop. But his gaze drifted to the invitation card. He stared at it, silently willing it to come closer.

After a few seconds of lazy contemplation, he sighed, got up, and grabbed the card.

"Midwood High School 2009-2010. A reunion?" he read out loud.

He winced. Just saying the school’s name brought back memories he’d rather bury deep in his subconscious.

"Oh, hell no." He tossed the card back onto the table, fully intending to bury himself in work instead.

But procrastination was a sneaky little devil.

Logging into f*******:, Daniel found himself bombarded with notifications. It was like he’d stepped into a time warp.

He was only 30, but he sure acted like a senior citizen sometimes. He hadn't changed his profile picture in 12 years, had hundreds of friend requests, and a timeline filled with tags from his two beagle brothers, his parents—who were more active online than he was, and way too many cousins.

Sighing, he clicked on the top message request: "Batch 2009-2010 Midwood High School."

Rolling his eyes, he opened the chat. His attention was immediately drawn to one name: Stephanie Mason.

"Of course," he muttered, his sulking face deepening. Yet, instead of ignoring it, he clicked on her official profile, the one with the blue check on the side of her name.

Maybe it was rhe force of curiosity. Or maybe it was something else? He wasn’t sure.

Her profile picture was iconic—those emerald green eyes practically staring into his soul.

"Why even bother?" he muttered, staring at her profile.

His own profile picture? It's still the same awkward teenage version of him. He hadn't changed it in years. Maybe it’s time for an update. If he ever finds the time.

Her relationship status? "In a relationship."

"Poor guy," Daniel mumbled, shaking his head.

He clicked his tongue and scrolled through her posts—just the usual. Glamorous shots from photoshoots, promotions for her dramas, her YouTube channel, the whole influencer package.

Then, there was a post that caught his eye. She’d tagged someone named Terry Konstantokopolous—

"What in the hell? That sounds like a fatal disease," he sneered, already judging the guy based on the sheer length of his last name.

In Daniel's world, names shouldn’t be this complicated. There should be a law for it.

Curiosity got the better of him, so he clicked on Stephanie’s boyfriend’s profile. And there he was: a top model. Blue-eyed, tanned, built like a freaking Greek god. Hair slicked back in that annoyingly perfect, effortless way.

Suddenly, insecurity hit Daniel like a truck. Maybe it was time to hit the gym again...

"Whatever," he muttered, puffing out his chest. "I've got biceps. My chest is practically smarter than my brain."

He glanced down at his suit-covered arms and flexed them for good measure. Yeah, he worked hard for that. Well, at least for his chest. The abs were still a work-in-progress.

Realizing he’d just compared himself to some guy with a name that sounds like a Greek yogurt brand, he shuddered. How did he sink this low?

"What the hell am I even doing?"

Back on the homepage, he checked in on the reunion group chat full of people he barely remembered. Seriously, how could he? His memories of school were mostly of Stephanie, historical figures like MacArthur and Einstein, and that professor he hated for her aggressively penciled-in eyebrows and that bald headed professor who kept picking his nose during class.

As he was about to close the chat, something caught his eye—Stephanie had confirmed she was going to the reunion, and she was bringing her muscle-bound boyfriend as a plus-one.

"Great. Just perfect."

Sarcasm was basically Daniel’s second language at this point.

Squinting his already squinty eyes, he let out a long, tired sigh. Of course, she’d be there to flaunt her success, waving her beefcake of a boyfriend around like a trophy. No doubt she was eager to make it painfully clear she wasn't affected by their past.

Annoyed now, he logged out of f*******: and stared at the ceiling. Yeah, he could pretend like he didn't care, but honestly? He did. No way he was going to let her show him up.

If Stephanie wanted a show, he was more than happy to deliver.

"Oh, you’re asking for a battle, Stephanie freaking Mason? Well, get ready for war."