Chapter 1

Eric Grant, my boyfriend, knows drinking messed with my stomach, but that never stops him from making me get wasted with his friends.

Tonight, a wave of nausea hits me so hard that I have to brace myself against the hallway wall just to escape the private room.

As the door swings shut, his voice, slick with arrogance, cuts through the noise. "You think I couldn't make her eat shit? I could, and she'd get on her knees and thank me for it."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I freeze.

"If her old man wasn't the richest guy in this city, you think she'd even qualify as my backup? She can puke her guts out, but she'll be right back here to keep the drinks coming."

*****

Outside the private room, my stomach churned, and I fought the urge to throw up right there on the plush carpet.

My stomach has been a mess since I was a kid. My parents wouldn't even let me eat leftovers from the fridge unless they were reheated to the perfect temperature.

"Mr. Grant, Charlotte Summers is still a big deal," one of his buddies said nervously. "Aren't you worried she'll..."

"Worried she'll leave me?" Eric Grant, my boyfriend, scoffed. "Please. She'd die without me."

A cold laugh echoed from the room. "Have you ever even heard of gaslighting?"

"Break her down, mess with her head, and make her feel worthless. Mr. Grant, you're a master!" his friend cheered.

A shameful wave washed over me, and tears I couldn't stop slipped down my cheeks. I fumbled for my compact, intending to repair the damage. But one look in the mirror confirmed it. I was a mess.

They say you dress up for the one you love.

A bitter laugh escaped me. For the last two years, who was I even trying to be beautiful for?

I took a shaky breath and walked away, my heels clicking faster with every step, desperate to escape the toxic air.

The moment I got home, the warmth of the house wrapped around me like a hug.

"Charlie, you're back!" my mother, Blaire Summers, called from the kitchen. "I made your favorite roasted ribs."

I took a deep breath and declared, "Mom, Dad. I'm breaking up with Eric."

Clang!

The plate of roasted ribs crashed to the floor.

Blaire stood frozen, her eyes wide with shock.

My father, Wilson Summers, who had been relaxing on the sofa with the evening paper, literally rolled off onto the floor.

By the time I helped him up, Blaire was sobbing. "Oh, thank God!" she cried, pulling me into a fierce hug. "Our daughter finally grew a spine!"

She held on for a long time, her tears soaking my shoulder.

Wilson exclaimed, his voice trembling, "Quick, get me my phone! I have to tell everyone the good news!"

When I handed it to him, his whole body was shaking, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

It was a stark reminder of the hell I had put them through, fighting them tooth and nail to be with a guy they knew was poison from the start.

"Dad," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "From now on, business is business. No more special treatment for him on my account."

"Done!" he declared, his voice ringing with relief and fury. "I'm calling Ms. Lewis right now. We're terminating every contract with that punk, effective immediately!"

I ghosted Eric for three days. He didn't try to contact me either.

Then, my best friend, Sophie Reed, sent me a screenshot of a chat between her and Eric. A moment later, she was video-calling me, absolutely livid.

"Charlie! Did you see what that garbage sent me? He's hitting on your best friend! Are you seriously going to let him get away with this?"

I told her we were already over.

Her eyes went wide. She literally checked the date on her phone. "Is this an April Fool's joke?" she murmured.

When she realized it wasn't, she was so overwhelmed with happiness that she started crying.

"You finally see it! You're finally awake!" she sobbed.

We made a plan to go shopping. A little retail therapy was exactly what I needed.

Life without Eric, it turned out, was fine.

When we were together, I was always the one waiting for him.

He would call a movie date a "waste of time." When he wanted to start his business, I was the one who had to beg my father for the loan.

But he was too proud to ask for it himself, insisting I bring the check to his office like some delivery girl, all so he could maintain his act of not needing my family's money.

I just wanted to be his partner. He called me a "useless trophy," only good for footing the bill at fancy restaurants.

And he was always, always flirting with my friends. When I confronted him, he spun some bullshit about how he was "just trying to understand me better" through them.

I was such an idiot. I actually thought his arrogance was ambition and that he was some kind of diamond in the rough.