Chapter 2

Mike was his best friend before he went to prison. He said he had connections and could pull some strings to make things easier for Jon inside, maybe even get him an early release.

But all of that came with a price.

A hefty one.

So, I dove headfirst into the grind, exploiting myself every single day.

By day, I was a convenience store cashier, and at night, I ran a street stand. Then, after midnight, I did food deliveries.

Living like this, I got only three or four hours of sleep each day, spinning nonstop like a worn-out toy that wouldn't quit.

I crashed in the cheapest part of the city, a rundown neighborhood where my room was dark, damp, and crawling with roaches and rats.

And I couldn't bear to have a proper meal. So most days, I simply had plain bread and cheap cheese.

Every penny I made, I handed straight over to Mike.

"Emmy, Jon says he misses you. He told me to tell you to take care of yourself," Mike said.

"Emmy, Jon asked me to tell you not to wait for him. He wants you to find someone decent and start a new life," Mike said.

"Emmy, there's hope for getting his sentence reduced, but we need a lot more money," Mike explained to me.Every time Mike brought me news, I'd end up with mixed feelings.

I sighed at how foolish he was, but yet a flicker of excitement because maybe, merely maybe, things were finally looking up.

I told Mike, "Let Jon know I'm waiting for him. No matter how long it takes, I'm not going anywhere. Anyway, I'll be here when he finally comes home."

To scrape together the money, I sold the only keepsake my mom left me. It was a diamond necklace worth a ton.

Jonathan's parents, my adoptive parents, gave it to my mom on my tenth birthday.

Gripping that cash from selling my necklace, I felt like I was holding onto the future for Jonathan and me.

Looking back now, all that money I sweated and bled for probably ended up in Jonathan's hands, another piece that helped build his business empire.

How laughable.

I was fighting tooth and nail to drag him out of hell, while he stayed high and distant, coldly watching me sink in the muck without a single care.

I followed Jonathan back to what he called home.

It was a luxury penthouse in the heart of the city, decorated like a cold, icy palace.

On the wall hung a huge black-and-white photo.

In the picture, a young Jonathan and I were beaming.

I sat on a swing while Jonathan stood behind me, giving me a gentle push.

Sunlight bathed us in warmth and beauty.

But it was a time we could never go back to.

Jon took off his coat. Beneath it, he wore a crisp white shirt.

There was a gnarly scar on his arm.

I remembered it.

When I was a kid, I accidentally broke a vase, and he got cut by the shards while protecting me.

He was bleeding a lot, but he simply smiled at me and said, "Don't be scared, Emmy. It doesn't hurt."

He'd always doted on me.

So, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't understand why he became this way.

He walked over to the bar, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and knocked it back in one gulp.

Then, like he couldn't take the pain anymore, he hurled the glass to the floor.

The glass shattered with a sharp, piercing crack.

He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling slightly, a muffled,trapped whimper escaping his throat."Emmy."

Was he crying?

Was he grieving overmydeath?

I felt some small, almost pitiful hope stir inside me.

Maybe there was something I didn't know, clinging to the possibility.

Maybe he didn't truly want me gone,' I hoped, my heart aching with uncertainty.

But that tiny hope was shattered by what he did next.

He pulled out his phone, then dialed a number.

A sweet, flirtatious voice came through the line. "Jon, are you done yet? I've been waiting for you forever."

It was Sophie Lane, a top star right now.

Jon's voice instantly turned calm, even a little gentle. "Yeah, baby, I'm on my way."

After hanging up, he straightened his clothes, as if the man who'd lost control wasn't even him.

Soon, that distant, aristocratic expression returned to his face as he turned and walked out of the apartment.

And all that remained was those shards of glass, and the photo of us grinning like nothing could ever go wrong.

I stared at the naive girl in the picture, and the irony hit me hard.