Chapter Five - James
CHAPTER FIVE
James
James spent the final three days before Valentine's Day studying his target with the same attention he usually reserved for hostile takeovers. Hannah Miller's routine was dully predictable—exactly what he'd expect from someone who probably highlighted her daily planner and colour-coded her spice rack.
Every morning: she watered the lobby plants like some self-appointed caretaker. Her sensible flats (probably from DSW) squeaking against the marble floors as she adjusted pictures that didn't need adjusting. Today's cardigan? At least two seasons old. Vanessa would have had an aneurysm.
"Such a help, dear," one of the building's old biddies called from the mailroom. "My arthritis is acting up today."
Hannah immediately abandoned her plant-watering to sort through her mail, separating out what looked like bills and medical correspondence. James watched from behind his phone. How desperately eager to be needed.
Later, he watched her help the building supervisor's daughter with homework in the lobby. Her hair was pulled back in that same uninspired ponytail she wore every day, gesturing animatedly about something. Some kind of science lesson.
She'd actually drawn a weather chart on cardboard—the kind of earnest effort that made him almost embarrassed for her.
The girl was struggling with the terminology, but Hannah pulled out construction paper and markers, and they were making some kind of craft project together. Who had that kind of time or patience?
"Now you'll always remember," Hannah was saying, "because you made it yourself."
The girl beamed. Hannah's answering smile was unfiltered—exactly the kind of authenticity that would photograph well at Nero's. Make him look like the kind of man Vanessa had claimed he wasn't.
Then she was helping Mr. Thompson with his new phone, explaining the same functions over and over with seemingly endless patience. Her cardigan had picked up chalk dust from the day's lessons, and her practical flats were scuffed. Everything about her screamed discount department store clearance rack.
"You're a saint," Mr. Thompson said when he finally managed to send a text.
"Not at all," Hannah replied. "I just like helping."
James resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Nobody "just liked helping." Everyone wanted something. Hannah probably lived for these moments of being needed, of making herself indispensable to the building's residents. All that relentless kindness had to be compensation for something—an unfulfilling life, probably. The kind of existence that would make his carefully planned Valentine's dinner seem like a fairy tale.
He watched her stop to deliver hot chocolate to Mrs. Chen, who was watching neighborhood children in the playground.
"Join us?" Mrs. Chen called to Hannah. "These old eyes appreciate young help."
Hannah settled onto the bench, immediately drawn into what looked like a story about Mrs. Chen's grandchildren. Her attention never wavered, asking questions and laughing at all the right moments. As if she actually cared about the mundane details of these people's lives.
Perfect. The more genuinely nice she appeared, the more effective his plan would be. Vanessa had always accused him of being self-absorbed, of not caring about "real people." Well, Hannah Miller was about as real as they came, right down to her sensible shoes and craft projects.
His phone buzzed with a text from Mike: Reservation at Nero's confirmed. Ready to make Vanessa jealous?
James watched Hannah help Mrs. Chen up from the bench, steadying the older woman with careful hands. More than ready , he typed back. I've got exactly what I need.
Some women spent fortunes on designers and procedures to curate an impeccable facade. Hannah Miller had built hers with discount cardigans and relentless good deeds.
It was the perfect image. And James Park knew exactly how to use a good show.
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James adjusted his tie—a blue one that he knew photographed well—and checked his reflection in the elevator doors one last time. Trevor and Vanessa's standing reservation at Nero's was confirmed for Valentine's Day. Now he just needed to secure his prop—his date.
Hannah was by the front window, adjusting those ridiculous Valentine's Day decorations. She wore a basic green top, her hair in its usual, uninspired ponytail. Perfect. The contrast with Vanessa's polished aesthetic couldn't be more striking.
"Hannah?" He let his voice catch slightly, an artful hesitation he'd perfected over years of closing difficult deals. Nothing endeared you to someone like letting them think they made you nervous.
"Yes?" A blush crept up her neck. "I mean, good evening, Mr. Park."
"James," he corrected smoothly, deploying his best client-meeting smile. "I'm glad I caught you."
The way her cheeks coloured rosily wasn't lost on him—it would make their social media debut that much more convincing.
She clutched her handful of paper hearts like a shield. "You are?"
"I've noticed your work with the building's community programs." He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, manufacturing just the right amount of uncertainty. A touch of vulnerability always sold sincerity. "It's admirable."
The blush deepened. Behind Hannah, Mrs. Chen emerged from the mail room, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. Perfect—another witness for the building's gossip mill.
"Oh, it's nothing special," Hannah said. "I just like helping out."
"I disagree." He stepped closer, noting how her breath caught. This was almost too easy. Like setting up any other business deal—identify the target's weaknesses, present the right image, wait for them to practically close the deal themselves. "I've been thinking a lot lately about what matters. About... connecting with people."
Hannah's eyes widened slightly. In his peripheral vision, James saw several residents slowing their pace through the lobby. Good. Let them see James Park taking an interest in their beloved community volunteer.
"I have a reservation at Nero's," he continued. "For Valentine's Day. I know it's forward of me, but I'd be honored if you'd join me."
The paper hearts forgotten, Hannah's hands went slack. "Valentine's Day?"
"Unless you have other plans?" He already knew she didn't. She probably spent every evening grading papers.
"No! I mean, no, I don't have plans. I'd love to—I mean, I'd like that very much."
James smiled, already composing the Instagram post in his head. He'd wait until they were at the restaurant, get a shot of her looking overwhelmed by the view. The caption would write itself: Sometimes the best things in life are right in front of you.
Vanessa would know exactly what he meant.
"Perfect. I'll pick you up at eight." He pulled out his phone, the gesture practiced. "What's your apartment number?"
"5C," Hannah said, still looking dazed. "I—thank you. This is... unexpected."
James nodded, making a show of adding it to his calendar. "Looking forward to it."
As he turned to leave, he caught Mrs. Chen's expression. The old woman was watching him with something between disappointment and warning. He gave her his most charming smile, but she just shook her head slowly.
It didn't matter. Everything was falling into place. Hannah was still standing where he left her. He could practically see the hearts in her eyes as she watched him walk away.
Let her dream. Let her plan. Let her spend the next 24 hours floating on cloud nine. It would make the eventual Instagram posts that much more believable.
And if Vanessa happened to see them together at Nero's, looking like the perfect study in opposites? Well, that was just a happy coincidence.
James stepped into the elevator, catching one last glimpse of Hannah. She was pressing a paper heart flat, her smile radiant with genuine joy. For the briefest second, something twisted in his chest—an unfamiliar twinge of remorse.
He shut it down before it could take root.
This wasn't personal. Hannah would get her fancy dinner, he'd get his revenge, and everyone would walk away happy.
Well, almost everyone.