Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 62: Algorithm Malfunction and Mayhem

Chapter 62: Algorithm Malfunction and Mayhem

The grand ballroom of the Manhattan Regal was decked out in glittering extravagance for the highly anticipated gala, the unofficial centerpiece of the matchmaking convention. Towering floral arrangements adorned each table, golden chandeliers dripped crystals from above, and a live string quartet played soft, elegant music that somehow managed to feel both classy and pretentious. Guests mingled in designer suits and couture gowns, sipping champagne and exchanging pleasantries.

Ava stood near the refreshment table, feeling slightly out of place despite the stunning emerald-green dress Mei had insisted she wear. Ryan was beside her, nursing a glass of whiskey and leaning against the table with his usual nonchalance. He looked annoyingly comfortable, as always, while Ava felt like she might spontaneously combust from the sheer pressure of the evening.

"Relax, Matchmaker," Ryan said, smirking as he took a sip. "You’re fidgeting so much, people are going to think you’re planning to rob the place."

"I’m not fidgeting," Ava snapped, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist for the tenth time. "I’m strategizing."

"Strategizing," Ryan echoed with a grin. "Sure. That’s what they call it."

Before Ava could retort, a hush fell over the crowd as Julian Ashcroft stepped onto the stage at the front of the room. Dressed in a sharp, tailored suit that screamed "I’m better than you," he looked every bit the tech billionaire he was. His smug smile widened as he took the microphone, and Ava’s stomach churned.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Julian began, his smooth, confident voice cutting through the room like butter. "Thank you for joining us tonight. As you all know, the future of matchmaking is here—and it’s powered by technology."

The crowd broke into polite applause, though Ava swore she saw Ryan roll his eyes.

"To that end," Julian continued, gesturing toward a sleek digital display behind him, "I’m thrilled to introduce the latest update to the Innovate Love app. This groundbreaking algorithm doesn’t just match people based on compatibility scores—it predicts their emotional responses to each other, ensuring a connection that’s not only logical but deeply fulfilling."

Ava whispered to Ryan, "Did he just say he can predict emotions? What is he, a wizard?"

Ryan chuckled. "More like a tech bro with a God complex."

Julian raised a hand, signaling the start of a demonstration. The digital display lit up with a graphic of intertwining hearts, and the words LIVE MATCHING IN PROGRESS flashed on the screen. Two names appeared beneath the graphic: "Emily Carter" and "Josh Ramirez."

The crowd murmured in excitement as a spotlight fell on a pair of unsuspecting attendees at one of the nearby tables. Emily, a stylish woman in her late twenties, looked pleasantly surprised, while Josh, a tall man with a charming smile, raised his glass in acknowledgment.

"Based on our algorithm’s analysis," Julian announced, "Emily and Josh are a perfect match—98.7% compatibility. Let’s give them a round of applause."

The crowd clapped politely as Emily and Josh stood, exchanging shy smiles. Ava watched skeptically, her arms crossed. Something about the whole thing felt too rehearsed, too... calculated.

Then, it happened.

Emily’s smile faltered as her eyes narrowed, recognition dawning on her face. "Wait a minute," she said, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. "Josh?"

Josh blinked, his own expression shifting from polite interest to mild horror. "Emily?"

The crowd quieted, the tension crackling in the air.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Emily said, her tone incredulous. "You’re the guy who ghosted me after two dates last year!"

Gasps rippled through the room, followed by a few poorly stifled laughs.

Josh held up his hands defensively. "Okay, that’s not fair. I didn’t ghost you—I... strategically disengaged."

"Strategically disengaged?" Emily repeated, her voice rising. "You blocked me on every platform, Josh!"

The murmurs in the room grew louder, and Julian’s confident smile faltered as he stepped forward. "I’m sure this is just a... misunderstanding," he said quickly.

"Oh, it’s not," Emily shot back, crossing her arms. "Your app matched me with my worst date ever. How’s that for cutting-edge technology?"

Laughter broke out across the room, and Ava couldn’t suppress a grin. Beside her, Ryan was practically vibrating with amusement.

"This is gold," he whispered.

Julian cleared his throat, attempting to regain control of the situation. "Our algorithm is still learning and refining its processes," he said, his voice tight. "Occasional anomalies are to be expected."

Ava seized the moment. She stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor, and called out, "Anomalies like predicting emotions? Or matching people based on data without considering, I don’t know, actual human history?"

The room turned toward her, and Julian’s jaw tightened. "And what would you suggest, Ms. Lee? Ignoring data altogether?"

"No," Ava said, holding her ground. "But data can’t tell the whole story. People aren’t equations to solve—they’re messy, unpredictable, and full of history. You can’t quantify that, no matter how fancy your algorithm is."

The crowd murmured in agreement, and Ava felt a surge of confidence.

Julian smiled thinly. "That’s a lovely sentiment, but sentiment doesn’t scale. Algorithms do."

"Maybe," Ava said, raising an eyebrow. "But when your algorithm fails, who’s there to pick up the pieces? Matchmakers like me."

The room erupted into applause, and Ava caught Ryan’s grin out of the corner of her eye. Julian, meanwhile, looked like he’d swallowed a lemon.

---

As the gala wound down, Ava found herself at the refreshment table once again, this time with Ryan at her side. Mei and Harold were nearby, Mei gleefully recounting the debacle to a group of amused attendees.

"Well," Ryan said, handing Ava a fresh glass of champagne, his fingers brushing hers for a brief moment. "That was... satisfying."

"More than satisfying," Ava said, clinking her glass against his. "That was vindicating."

Ryan leaned against the table, his usual smirk softening into something more genuine. "You were great out there, you know. Calling Julian out like that? Bold move."

Ava shrugged, though her cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Someone had to do it."

"And it had to be you," Ryan said, his voice quieter now. His gaze lingered on her, the admiration in his expression unmistakable.

Before Ava could respond, a passing attendee stopped at their table, a bright smile lighting up her face. "Ava! That was amazing," the woman said, clasping Ava’s hand. "You said exactly what everyone was thinking. You’re so right—matchmaking isn’t about numbers; it’s about people. You’ve inspired me to rethink how I approach my clients."

"Thank you," Ava said, her voice humble but steady.

A few others joined in, sharing their own praise—how they admired Ava’s courage, how her words had reminded them of why they’d entered this business in the first place. Even a couple of judges gave her approving nods as they passed, one murmuring something about how she’d brought the "heart" back into the competition.

Ryan stayed silent, letting Ava soak in the recognition, but his chest swelled with pride as he watched her handle each compliment with poise and grace. When the group finally moved on, he turned to her with a crooked smile. "Looks like someone’s a bit of a legend now."

Ava laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s not get carried away."

"No, really," Ryan said, stepping closer. "You didn’t just hold your own tonight—you shined. I think even Julian’s algorithm would have to agree."

Ava rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest spread at the way he was looking at her. "Thanks, Ryan. For being there. For... all of it."

"Always," he said, his voice low, the word heavy with meaning.

The string quartet struck up another song, the soft notes weaving through the thinning crowd. Ryan glanced toward the small dance floor and then back at Ava, his smile turning playful. "What do you say, Matchmaker? One dance? You’ve earned it."

Ava hesitated, glancing toward the floor. "I don’t really—"

"Dance? Or have fun?" Ryan interrupted, holding out his hand.

She huffed a laugh, setting her glass down. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," he teased, taking her hand and leading her toward the floor.

The moment they reached the dance floor, Ryan pulled her closer, his movements easy and confident. Ava, to her own surprise, relaxed into the rhythm, letting herself enjoy the moment. The soft glow of the chandeliers overhead, the gentle murmur of conversation in the background, and the steady warmth of Ryan’s hand on her waist made everything else—the competition, Julian, her doubts—fade away.

"You know," Ryan said, his voice just above a whisper, "you’re not as scary as you pretend to be."

Ava arched an eyebrow. "Is that your idea of a compliment?"

"It is when it’s true," he said, grinning. "You’ve got this armor, Ava. But underneath it? You’re—"

"Careful," she interrupted, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re dangerously close to being sweet."

"I thought you liked chaos," Ryan countered, his gaze softening.

"I think I’ve had enough chaos for one night," Ava said, but her voice wavered slightly. She couldn’t stop the flutter in her chest as Ryan’s hand tightened ever so slightly at her waist, pulling her just a bit closer.

"For what it’s worth," Ryan murmured, his tone serious now, "I’m proud of you. And not just for tonight. For everything."

Ava blinked, the sincerity in his words catching her off guard. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, they were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of Mei clearing her throat.

"Well, well, look at you two," Mei said, appearing at the edge of the dance floor with Harold in tow. "Twirling under the chandeliers like something out of a Hallmark movie. Don’t mind us—just pretend we’re not here."

Harold, holding a half-eaten canapé, looked between them and shrugged. "I tried to stop her."

Ava stepped back quickly, her cheeks burning, while Ryan just laughed, completely unfazed. "What’s the matter, Mei? Jealous?"

"Of course," Mei said, deadpan, though her grin betrayed her. "But don’t worry, I’ll live. Carry on, lovebirds."

"Grandma!" Ava groaned, her embarrassment peaking.

Mei waved them off, already turning to Harold. "Come on, Harold. Let’s leave these two to their romantic moment before they combust."

As the duo disappeared into the crowd, Ava shook her head, her mortification clear. "I swear, that woman has no boundaries."

Ryan chuckled, stepping back into her space. "She’s not wrong, though."

"About what?" Ava asked warily.

"About this being a romantic moment," Ryan said, his grin softening into something more tender. "Now, where were we?"

And before she could argue, he spun her back into the dance, leaving her laughing despite herself.

---

Hours later, Ava found herself back in the suite, removing her heels while Mei cackled in delight over the evening’s drama. Harold, meanwhile, was trying to eat leftover hors d’oeuvres off a plate Mei had confiscated to "dramatize" her storytelling.

Ryan walked in, holding his bowtie like a trophy. "I think Julian’s sulking somewhere in the lobby. Should I send him a fruit basket or let him simmer?"

"Let him simmer," Ava said, smirking.

Mei, overhearing, gasped. "No! Send him a basket with a card that says, Better luck next time."

Ryan leaned against the counter. "You really are a menace."

Ava laughed and rolled her eyes at the chaos around her. For the first time, though, she didn’t feel alone in it.