Chapter 3

I leaned back against the chair, looking at him calmly. I even reached up and fixed the hair he'd just messed up.

"What else did you expect?" I asked softly, my eyes clear. "Ryan, what kind of reaction were you hoping for?"

Ryan was left speechless by my calm reply.

It was like he'd punched a pillow. His force just vanished into thin air.

Finally, he flopped back into the driver's seat, yanking at his tie in frustration. His voice came out hoarse. "Get out."

I didn't hesitate. I pulled the door open and walked straight into the chilly evening breeze, never looking back.

Behind me, the engine of his sports car roared, and he tore off into the night.

Instead of heading straight home, I went to the storage lockers on the first floor of the mall next door, like I'd done a hundred times before. I punched in the code and grabbed the big paper bags I'd hidden there.

Inside were all the luxury bags and jewelry Ryan had given me over the years. On holidays, anniversaries, or just to keep me quiet.

He hated gold-diggers, so even though he was loaded, he never spent money on me easily, let alone gave me his card.

Those pricey gifts were more like symbolic compensation, or a reward for playing the "good girl."

But to me, they were never just accessories. They were my lifeline.

I took a cab to a reputable luxury consignment store downtown.

The clerk checked out the bags and jewelry, rattled off a price. I kept my poker face, and when they shot me a surprised look, I just nodded and closed the deal.

Seeing all those extra zeroes in my bank account, I didn't feel happy at all, just a wave of exhaustion, as if the weight on my shoulders had eased up for a moment.

After that, I headed to another spot, where they sold fakes so good you could barely tell them apart from the real thing.

I used a small chunk of the cash I got from selling the real stuff to buy the knockoffs, then made my way back to the tiny but tidy apartment I shared with Mom.

I carefully put the fakes back in the drawer Ryan knew I kept my "valuables" in, making sure they looked just like when he gave them to me.

Once I was done, I sent every penny I'd made from selling the stuff today, plus all the cash I'd scrimped and saved from Ryan this month, using every excuse I could think of, straight to the hospital's account.

The note was: [For Linda Scott's treatment.]

When the transfer went through, I let out a long, long breath and sank into the old couch.

Outside, the sky had gone completely dark.

It was time to think about when I'd finally end things with Ryan once and for all.

I couldn't stand another day of pretending to be someone I was not, always at his mercy.

But Mom's treatment was still going to cost a fortune, and I needed a reliable way to cover it.

Just as my thoughts were spinning, my phone rang, the screen lighting up with Dr. Warren's name. He was Mom's doctor.

A wave of dread hit me out of nowhere.

I picked up, my hand shaking. Dr. Warren's voice was heavy and urgent. "Emma, your mom's condition has suddenly gotten worse. She needs surgery and new targeted meds right away, otherwise... it could be life-threatening.

"But this time, the costs are huge. The initial estimate is at least 300 thousand. You... you need to figure something out, and fast."

I gripped my phone, my ears ringing so loud I could barely make out what he was saying after that.

Three hundred thousand dollars.

Since middle school, I'd been picking up scrap, hustling odd jobs, sacrificing every bit of free time just spinning through life nonstop. I ended up with Ryan just to survive, scrambling for every cent like a worker ant.

But Mom's illness was a black hole, swallowing everything I had. No matter how hard I tried, it was never enough.

I didn't even know how I got there. One moment, I was leaving the house, the next I was standing outside Ryan's fancy apartment building, moving on autopilot, completely dazed.

I crouched by the cold flower bed near the entrance, calling Ryan again and again, hands shaking.

The phone just kept ringing, but he never picked up. In the end, all I got was that cold, mechanical busy signal.

I spent the whole night out there, not sleeping a wink.

Finally, as the sky started to lighten, that familiar black sports car rolled up and stopped a short distance away.

Ryan got out, dressed to the nines, but he looked like he was still shaking off a hangover, lazy, a little annoyed.

When he spotted me crouched by the entrance, his brows immediately furrowed. "Emma? Seriously, did you really wait out here all night?"

I used the flower bed to push myself up, my legs so numb and prickly from crouching all night that I could barely stand.

Emma's voice came out rough and scratchy. "Ryan... I-I need 300 thousand. Can you lend it to me? I swear I'll pay you back."

Ryan paused, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "300 thousand? So you finally couldn't hold it in, huh, Emma? What, pretending to be above it all got too hard? Now you're just coming right out and asking for cash?"

"No, that's not it!" Emma cried, her eyes filling with tears. "It's my mom. Her condition's taken a turn for the worse. She needs surgery, and it's going to cost 300 thousand dollars to save her! Ryan, please, I'm begging you—"

"Enough!" Ryan snapped, cutting her off. "Go on, keep spinning your stories. I've heard that pathetic excuse more times than I can count. Your mom's sick? Yeah right. For all I know, you're just making this up to get cash out of me."

He looked me up and down, like I was something he could buy and sell.

Then he pulled out a business card from his wallet and flicked it onto the ground at my feet, his voice laced with a mocking sneer.

He said, "You want money? Fine. Two choices: spend the night with me, make sure I'm satisfied, and maybe I'll think about it."