Chapter 2

That night, I sat in my cold, empty apartment for hours, feeling like a shell of myself.

All those things I did for Matthew, skipping breakfast to buy him a hand warmer, staying up late to organize his project files, ended up being nothing but a joke.

I hugged myself tightly, trying to hold myself together.

"Hang in there, girl. You've been through hell," I whispered to myself.

When the sun came up, I told myself, "Serena, feeling sorry for yourself won't get you anywhere. Tears won't make scumbags disappear."

I had been hustling at the bottom of the ladder for years. I had taken every kind of cold shoulder, every kind of hardship.

Matthew, since you loved pretending to be the devoted, broke guy, I would play along with you to the end.

Let me show you what it really meant to be someone who was toughened up by real life's mess.

Just then, a barrage of comments scrolled across my screen, full of mockery.

[Ms. Sinclair's back in town. She totally roasted Matthew at some fancy private restaurant, told him he's got zero business sense, and told him to get lost.]

I sneered inwardly. Served him right.

Sure enough, Matthew didn't come home until almost eleven, dragging himself in, looking totally exhausted.

There was a heavy gloom hanging over his face. Clearly, Vivian had really put him through the wringer tonight.

"Serena, you're still up?" Matthew asked, his voice husky. He was still playing the role of the hardworking boyfriend, beaten down by life's endless grind.

I switched gears in a flash, wearing a worried expression as I hurried over to grab his briefcase, which was practically weightless.

"Why are you back so late? Did you eat? Bet you're wiped out," I said. I took his hand and gently massaged his temples, my voice gentle. "Is the new job really stressing you out? Don't overdo it. You gotta take care of yourself."

Matthew stiffened, his eyes flickering with mixed emotions.

Maybe the way I treated him, so different from the humiliation he had suffered at Vivian's hands, actually made his thin conscience ache for a moment.

"Serena..." he said, but words stuck in his throat. And then he tapped on his phone to make a transfer.

My phone buzzed; a payment app notification popped up. He sent me two thousand dollars.

"Your mom needs help right away. This is my paycheck in advance, plus a bit I borrowed from my coworkers. Use it for now, and I'll figure out the rest," Matthew said.

I looked down at the transfer, my eyes getting a little teary.

"But what about you? You still need to eat, and..." I said.

"That's enough," he cut me off. Guess being with me let him feel like a real man again. "Your mom comes first. I'm a man. I can get by."

Matthew patted my head, putting on a brave front, acting like he was strong enough to handle anything.

I buried my face in his shoulder. I said, my voice full of dependence, "You're so good to me."

I couldn't help but sneer inwardly.

So that was it, Matthew? Your conscience was only worth two grand.

That night, I played the perfect girlfriend, going all out to be the picture of domestic bliss.

I drew him a bath and hummed a tune while cooking up a whole spread, four dishes, and a soup.

Matthew leaned back on the bed, watching me bustle around, his gaze drifting.

Out of nowhere, Matthew said, "Serena, being with me has made you go through so much."

I paused, then gave him a trusting smile.

"Hey, don't say that. We'll support each other, and things will get better," I replied.

Matthew went quiet, staring up at the peeling ceiling.

I knew it. In his mind, the image of me as the simple, pure-hearted, selflessly loving girlfriend from humble beginnings had reached its absolute peak.

Late at night, with the world quiet and still, I lay under the covers, wide awake.

Just then, the comments started popping up again.

[Vivian's got her hands on this private equity fund called Blue Horizon Fund. It's pretty niche, but it's killing it. Her family's got the inside track.]

[Matthew's so clueless, griping about Vivian's aggressive investing. Seriously, that's what you call precision targeting.]

[Serena, hurry up and follow her lead. Don't let your first big payday slip away.]

I made a mental note of the name.

I grabbed my phone and quickly started digging into Vivian's background.

Turned out, her family was a powerhouse in the finance world.

Someone like her wouldn't mess around with real money.

Compared to that, Matthew's so-called startup was nothing but a money black hole. I worked myself to the bone at four different gigs, poured in everything I had, and ended up with nothing.

Guess it was pretty obvious who the real idiot was.

I still had some money left, not much, just thirty thousand dollars.

Back then, it was meant to be our home fund, so Matthew and I could finally settle down in this city.

Thinking about it now, it was almost laughable.

The next day, I brought it up to Matthew like it suddenly popped into my head.

I said, "Hey, I heard about this Blue Horizon Fund. My cousin, the accountant, mentioned it and said it's pretty solid. Do you think I should check it out or something?"

"Nonsense," Matthew snapped, cutting me off like he was some kind of investment guru.

"Serena, you don't know the first thing about investing. Stuff like this is just a trap for people who have no clue. I know someone who just threw money at random deals; mark my words, they lost everything," he said.

"Can you break it down for me? I really want to learn," I said.

Matthew gave me a dismissive look. "With your second-rate college degree, you really shouldn't waste your time on this."

I curled my fingers into my palm. "Yeah, I guess I was just being naive. Maybe it's safer to just keep it in the bank," I said softly. I lowered my head, playing the obedient girlfriend.

Matthew nodded, clearly satisfied.

As soon as he left, I logged into my account.

These thirty thousand dollars were every penny I pinched and saved, little by little, over the years.

I wasn't about to take the comments at face value.

For the next three days, I worked my shifts during the day, and at night, I buried myself in financial forums and industry reports.

I did my homework on Blue Horizon Fund. And according to public records, Vivian had quietly visited its parent company twice in the past six months.

The info from the comments turned out to be spot on; my own research backed it up.

The night before I made my decision, I couldn't sleep.

Those thirty thousand dollars were scraped together bit by bit, after endless days and nights of hustling.

In the end, I only put in ten thousand. I had to play it smart and stay cautious.

While waiting for my investment to pay off, I kept grinding away at all four of my jobs.

When my returns doubled for the first time, I wasn't ecstatic; instead, I broke out in a cold sweat.

Comments floated by, sounding regretful.

[If you'd gone all in, you could've made even more. You really missed out big time.]

That was the first time I realized how scary it was when one didn't know what others did and how dangerous that information gap could be.

But I couldn't keep relying on the scrolling comments to make decisions.

I needed to have real skills of my own, something I could trust, not luck.