Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 27: The Love Guru’s Past

Chapter 27: The Love Guru’s Past

Ava stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, biting the inside of her cheek so hard she was pretty sure she’d have a permanent indent by the end of the night. Across the room, Ethan Chase was doing what he did best: basking in the glow of his own ego.

The ballroom was a vision of luxury—twinkling chandeliers, polished marble floors, and floral arrangements so perfect they looked like they’d been plucked straight from a fairytale. The audience, however, was less polished. It was an eclectic mix of nervous singles, nosy spectators, and Ava’s personal favorite group: the people who had no intention of finding love but had shown up strictly for the free wine and potential gossip.

Ethan had positioned himself squarely in the spotlight, pacing the stage in a tailored suit that screamed I’m richer than you. Behind him, a massive screen flashed glowing testimonials from so-called happy couples matched by Cupid’s Algorithm.

The testimonials were the stuff of saccharine Hallmark movies: "I didn’t believe in love... until Cupid’s Algorithm changed my life!" and "The quiz was so accurate—it felt like it read my soul!" Even the photos—complete with beaming couples holding hands in golden sunlight—felt like they’d been ripped straight from a stock image database.

"You’ve got to admit," Ryan murmured, suddenly appearing beside Ava with a champagne flute in one hand and a mini quiche in the other, "the guy knows how to put on a show."

Ava shot him a glare that could’ve melted titanium. "He’s not putting on a show. He’s selling a scam."

Ryan smirked. "Isn’t that your job?"

Ava’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Excuse me?"

"Selling love," Ryan said casually, popping the mini quiche into his mouth. "Isn’t that what matchmaking is?"

"Not like this," Ava hissed. "I don’t manipulate people into thinking love can be reduced to an equation."

Ryan raised his glass in mock surrender. "Fair point. Carry on, Cupid."

Ava turned her attention back to Ethan, who was now gesturing dramatically at a very photogenic couple seated in the front row.

---

"Take Megan and Jason, for example," Ethan said, his voice as smooth as the champagne Ava wished she were chugging.

The couple smiled so brightly it was almost blinding, their perfectly coordinated outfits making them look like they’d just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad.

"Megan and Jason came to Cupid’s Algorithm six months ago," Ethan continued, his grin so smug it was practically its own brand. "They were skeptical, unsure if they’d ever find ’the one.’ And now?" He turned to the couple, his tone dripping with triumph. "Megan, Jason, care to share your story?"

Megan beamed as she took the microphone. "It was amazing. The quiz was so accurate—it felt like it knew me better than I knew myself."

Jason nodded. "Yeah, everything just clicked. We’ve never been happier."

Ava groaned softly. "This is insufferable."

Ryan leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Don’t worry. I think things are about to get interesting."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "What makes you say that?"

Ryan tilted his head toward the back of the room. "Because she just walked in."

---

Ava followed Ryan’s gaze and froze.

The woman striding into the ballroom looked like a force of nature. Her tailored red blazer clung to her like a second skin, her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, and her dark ponytail swayed with every step like a metronome of impending doom.

"Ethan Chase," she called, her voice slicing through the polite hum of the crowd.

Ethan froze mid-sentence, his practiced grin faltering for the first time that evening. "Clara," he said, his voice tight, "what are you doing here?"

The crowd collectively turned, their curiosity palpable. The woman—Clara, apparently—didn’t stop until she reached the front of the stage.

"Oh, don’t play dumb," Clara snapped, crossing her arms. "You know exactly why I’m here."

Ryan let out a low whistle. "This is better than Netflix."

Ava elbowed him, her eyes glued to the unfolding drama.

---

Clara turned to the audience, her voice ringing out with the authority of someone who knew she had the upper hand. "For those of you who don’t know, I’m Dr. Clara Monroe. I’m a licensed psychologist—and Ethan’s ex-fiancée."

The room erupted in gasps, the kind of collective intake of breath you’d expect during the climax of a soap opera. Even the waitstaff froze, trays of hors d’oeuvres dangling precariously as they leaned in to eavesdrop.

"Oh, this just got so much better," Ryan whispered, his grin widening.

Ava shushed him, though she couldn’t deny the thrill of schadenfreude bubbling in her chest.

Clara wasn’t done. "What Ethan hasn’t told you is that Cupid’s Algorithm wouldn’t exist without me. In fact, he built his entire business on my research—research he stole after our relationship ended."

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder. Near the back, someone whispered, "I knew he was too good to be true."

"That’s not true," Ethan said quickly, stepping off the stage. His usually confident voice cracked slightly. "Clara, this isn’t the time or place—"

"Oh, it’s exactly the time and place," Clara interrupted, her eyes blazing. "You’ve spent years pretending you’re some kind of love guru, when in reality, you’re just a bitter ex who turned my personality quizzes into a revenge scheme."

The crowd collectively leaned forward, their faces alight with the kind of glee reserved for reality TV meltdowns.

Mei, standing by the refreshments table, calmly poured herself another cup of tea. "The tea is hot," she murmured, her voice carrying just enough to reach Ava, "and so is the gossip."

Ava choked on her champagne, earning a glare from Ryan.

---

Clara’s words hung in the air like a grenade waiting to explode.

"You’re a fraud, Ethan," she declared, her voice sharp and unwavering. "You built your entire career on lies, and it’s about time people knew the truth."

Ethan’s face was a perfect portrait of panic. His usual cool, collected façade was rapidly crumbling, and for once, he didn’t have a rehearsed response. "Clara," he said through gritted teeth, his hands raised like he was trying to corral a very angry tiger, "this isn’t the time or place—"

"Oh, it’s exactly the time and place," Clara interrupted, her tone dripping with venom. Her gaze swept across the room, making sure the audience was hanging on her every word—and they were.

At this point, the ballroom was so quiet you could’ve heard a champagne flute drop. Even the waitstaff had stopped in their tracks, one server frozen mid-pour as a glass of red wine threatened to overflow. The crowd was positively vibrating with anticipation.

Clara didn’t miss a beat. "You’ve spent years pretending to be some sort of modern-day Cupid," she spat, stepping closer to him. "But you’re not a genius or a love guru. You’re just a bitter, self-serving narcissist who plagiarized my work!"

"Clara," Ethan hissed, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Enough."

"Oh, you’re embarrassed?" Clara asked, her lips curling into a wicked smile. "Good. You should be."

Without breaking eye contact, she reached over and grabbed a glass of water from the nearest table.

The crowd collectively inhaled.

Ava’s hand shot to her mouth as she whispered, "She wouldn’t..."

"She absolutely would," Ryan murmured, his grin widening.

Clara’s hand wavered for a moment, just long enough for Ethan to realize what was about to happen. His eyes widened, his mouth opening as if to protest—

But he was too late.

With a flick of her wrist, Clara flung the entire glass of water at him.

Time seemed to slow down.

The water sailed through the air in a perfect arc, catching the light from the chandeliers as it sparkled like liquid justice. The crowd gasped in unison, their collective intake of breath loud enough to rival a vacuum cleaner.

Then came the splat.

Ethan stood there, drenched. His once-pristine suit was now clinging to him like a soggy napkin, and his perfectly gelled hair was dripping onto his forehead. He blinked slowly, water running down his face like a dejected fountain statue.

For a moment, the ballroom was silent.

Then, chaos erupted.

---

"Oh my God, did she just—" someone near the back started, only to be drowned out by laughter and hushed whispers.

"That was incredible," a woman in a sequined dress whispered to her date, who was frantically recording the scene on his phone.

"I told you we should’ve come earlier," another man muttered, elbowing his friend.

At the refreshment table, Mei sipped her tea with a serene expression. "The tea is hot," she said again, this time loud enough to draw a few chuckles from the nearby waitstaff. "And so is the gossip."

The poor server holding the wine bottle finally snapped out of their daze and finished pouring, though their hand was shaking from trying not to laugh.

Meanwhile, Ryan was doubled over, his laughter so loud it was borderline inappropriate. He clutched his champagne flute in one hand and his stomach in the other, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "I take back everything I said about Ethan’s events being boring," he wheezed. "This is the best thing I’ve ever seen."

Ava couldn’t help it—she laughed, too, though she quickly tried to smother it with a cough. "It’s about time someone shut him up," she muttered under her breath.

---

Ethan remained rooted to the spot for a moment, as though his brain was still trying to process what had just happened. Slowly, he wiped his face with his hands, water dripping onto the carpet.

"Thank you for that... dramatic display," he said finally, his voice shaky but laced with forced humor. "It’s always nice to reconnect with old friends."

"Oh, we’re not friends," Clara shot back, her tone icy. "And you’re lucky that was just water."

The crowd erupted into another wave of whispers and laughter, some people outright applauding Clara’s audacity.

Ethan’s jaw tightened. His usually perfect composure was in tatters, but he managed to force a tight-lipped smile as he turned to the audience. "Well, I think that’s enough excitement for one evening. Please enjoy the refreshments—and the entertainment."

With that, he turned and stalked off the stage, leaving a trail of water in his wake.

---

Clara didn’t stick around to bask in her victory. She stormed out of the ballroom with the same dramatic energy she’d entered with, her heels clicking against the marble like a victory march. The crowd watched her go, a mix of admiration and stunned disbelief on their faces.

Back in the ballroom, the gossip was in full swing.

"Do you think they’re going to sue each other?" someone asked, sipping a martini.

"Forget suing—I want to know what else he stole from her!" another chimed in.

Ava, standing near the corner of the room, felt a small twinge of sympathy as she watched Ethan disappear backstage. For all his flaws, it was hard not to feel a little sorry for the guy after being so thoroughly humiliated.

Ryan, however, had no such reservations. "I’m going to frame this moment in my memory forever," he said, his grin still firmly in place. "Do you think someone got it on video? Because I would pay good money for a replay."

Ava rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’m realistic," Ryan corrected. "That was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all year, and I go to divorce court for a living."

---

Later, when most of the guests had either gone home or were still busy dissecting the drama, Ava found Ethan sitting alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom. His tie was undone, his suit jacket discarded, and he looked like a man who had been through a hurricane.

"Rough night?" Ava asked, approaching cautiously.

Ethan glanced up, his usual bravado noticeably absent. "You here to laugh at me?"

"No," Ava said, though she couldn’t entirely hide her amusement. "Well, maybe a little. But mostly, I wanted to ask... is it true? What Clara said about your business?"

Ethan sighed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "It’s not as simple as she made it sound. Yes, we worked on the original idea together. Yes, things got messy when we broke up. But it’s not like I stole her work outright. I just... expanded on it."

"Expanded on it and built an empire," Ava said, raising an eyebrow.

Ethan’s lips twitched into something that might’ve been a smirk if he weren’t so exhausted. "Something like that."

For the first time, Ava saw a crack in his polished armor. It didn’t make her like him, but it made him feel... human.

"Well," she said, brushing imaginary dust off her skirt, "maybe it’s time you gave her credit. Might make you look less like a villain for once."

Ethan let out a dry laugh. "And give you even more ammunition to hate me? Tempting."

Ava smiled faintly. "Just think about it."

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving Ethan alone with his whiskey—and, she hoped, his regrets.