Chapter 1
My boyfriend of four years dumped me the moment he made it into a top firm.
He rolled up in the company car, flaunting a luxury watch he claimed was a gift from some rich lady, looking down at me like he was suddenly out of my league.
"Julia, grinding away is just too much. That chairwoman can fast-track my career by twenty years," he said.
He showed me a photo of her, but all I could see was her hand, adorned with an emerald ring.
I burst out laughing.
That hand? It belonged to my mom, Willa Knowles.
*****
Anthony Annable broke up with me while I was squatting by the roadside, eating a 2-buck hot dog.
He was wearing that H&M suit he bought just for his interview, standing in the wind with his hair slicked back, not a strand out of place.
He looked down at me, his eyes full of that pitying superiority, like he was so exceptional he had no choice but to leave me behind.
"Julia, we're not on the same path anymore," he said.
He pushed up his glasses, sounding like he was reciting a corporate speech.
"I got an offer from Knowles Group, the leading company in town. Do you know what that means? It means I'm about to jump social classes," he said.
I swallowed the last bite of the hot dog, kind of stunned. "So? Who's stopping you?"
Anthony sighed, like he was annoyed at how naive I was.
"What I mean is, you're way too comfortable with your life. These past four years, all you've done is binge-watch dramas in your dorm and eat street food, with no plans for your future. But me? I'm meant to move up.
"I want to buy a house in this city and settle down before I turn thirty. Just relying on a paycheck is way too slow. I need to leverage some connections," he said.
As he said "leverage," a flash of greed flickered in his eyes.
I wiped my hands and got to my feet. "Leverage? From whom?"
Anthony glanced around, lowered his voice, and pulled out his phone. He flashed a blurry photo in front of me.
The picture was fuzzy, showing the leather seats of a luxury car. A woman's hand—well cared for, but you could still see the years in it—rested casually on the armrest.
On her finger was a top-grade old mine glass emerald ring.
"This is a senior executive at Knowles Group," Anthony said, barely able to hide his pride.
"During the interview, she said I had potential, something special, and even went out of her way to give me a ride back to campus. Julia, in the grown-up world, some things just don't need to be spelled out," he said.
I stared at that emerald ring and just stayed quiet.
Just last Saturday, I went to an auction with my mom. She thought the ring looked outdated, so she just tossed it in the car, saying she'd get it made into a pendant one of these days.
So how did it suddenly become Anthony's so-called token of affection?
Seeing me stay quiet, Anthony figured I was awed by his new, high-status connection. His tone softened, almost like he was doing me a favor.
"Julia, don't blame me for being realistic. That chairwoman—she's probably a whole generation older than me... no, maybe two. But the resources she has?
"Even if just a little trickles down, it's enough for me to live comfortably for the rest of my life. A guy's gotta know how to use his advantages," he said.
I couldn't help but laugh.
My mom was fifty, but she kept herself looking thirty-five, while Anthony was only twenty-two.
He called this "using his advantages"? Please—he wanted to be a freeloader, but he was still picky about the hand that fed him.
"So," I said, barely holding back a laugh as I cocked my head at him, "you're dumping me for this... sugar mama?"
"Don't make it sound so harsh," Anthony replied.
He straightened his tie.
"A wise man knows where to settle. Julia, you can't give me what I want. This hot dog's on me; think of it as our farewell dinner," he said.
He tossed a 3-dollar bill onto my hot dog bag and walked away without a second glance.
Watching his swaggering back fade away, I pulled out my phone and sent my mom a text.
[Mom, is it true you've been interested in some recent grad? And you actually said he's got potential?]
Three seconds later, her voice messages came blasting in. "Potential? Seriously? He's just some intern HR dumped on me. I only gave him a lift because I needed someone to fetch my package. What, is that kid loose-lipped now?"
I sent back a smiley face.
Loose-lipped? Please—he's got his whole life mapped out.