Page 130 of The Substitute Fiancée

“Numbers look great,” David announces as he walks into my office, iPad in hand. “Up twelve percent for the month. Trading volume is stable. And analysts are starting to revise their forecasts upward.”

He sets the tablet down in front of me, a triumphant smile on his face.

“We did it, Alex. We pulled it off.”

“Yes,” I reply with a smile, though my heart isn’t in it.

After he leaves, I open the reports sent by the marketing team.

Feedback on the app is excellent. Better than expected.

On social media, testimonials are pouring in. Smiling couples. Photos. Stories.

“Thanks to MatchMapping, I found the love of my life.”

“The algorithm really understood me.”

“After years of failures, MatchMapping finally found me the right person.”

I read them one by one.

It’s a success.

And yet, I have the overwhelming feeling of a crushing failure.

I built an entire company on the idea that love could be optimized. That the right people could find each other if they used the right criteria, the right algorithms, the right parameters.

But no algorithm ever warned me:

Warning. You are in the process of destroying the best thing that ever happened to you.

That evening, when I get home, I don’t even touch my computer.

I sit down at my desk.

Fatigue weighs on me, but there’s one thing left to do, and I refuse to put it off any longer.

We always choose where we place our priorities. Until now, work has always won.

Tonight, that ends.

I take out a stack of blank sheets and a pen.

My hand hovers over the first page.

Where do I even begin?

What could I possibly say to Kristel, after all this time?

“No filter. No restraint. Say everything you never said.”

Dr. Lebrun’s voice still echoes in my head.

I close my eyes.

Inhale.

Exhale.