Chapter 1

Back when the "name it, claim it" trend was blowing up on social media, my boyfriend Richard Grant asked me, "Anything you've got your eye on?"

I practically bounced off the couch. "A Mini Cooper. I've wanted one for three years. The second I get behind the wheel, I'm posting: 'name it, claim it'."

He patted me on the head without a word.

I figured he was planning a surprise.

The next day, his assistant Emily Hart posted a photo of a top-trim Mini Cooper with the caption: [Mentioned wanting a Mini yesterday, and my boss bought it today.]

Richard, who never left comments on social media, made an exception under her post: [You name it, you claim it.]

Right then, the hurt gave way to clarity. It wasn't that he didn't know how to spoil someone. He chose not to spoil me.

Fair enough. From now on, whatever I wanted, I'd claim on my own dime.

*****

Richard walked in while I was looking at the post. Catching a glimpse of my screen, he asked in a flat tone, "Mad?"

I held my tongue and looked him in the eye.

"She needs a car more than you do," he said flatly, but every word stung. "She runs errands, delivers contracts, and grabs meals. She needs to get around in bad weather. You don't have a job. What would you do with a car anyway?"

I sacrificed my own career to help him build his startup. I spent hours cooking his favorite meals and trudged through storms for groceries.

Now that he had made it, I asked for a cheap commuter car, and he treated me like I wasn't worthy of scrap metal.

The words poured out, my voice trembling with every syllable. "Are you running low on cash, Richard? You could easily afford two cars, yet you went out of your way to humiliate me. Do you have any idea what kind of person you've become?

"Rain or shine, blistering heat or freezing cold, I walk over a mile every day for groceries. I asked for a budget car. Is that unreasonable? Don't worry. I won't bring it up again. I won't ask you for anything ever again.

He stared back, totally unfazed. He raised an index finger to his lips and shushed me softly.

The gesture stopped me cold. To him, I was background noise.

Years ago, he was the chatterbox. In that tiny studio apartment, he would ramble on about our bright future.

"Once the company takes off, I'll give you whatever your heart desires," he'd promise.

I laughed along, building our future in my head.

These days, a shadow followed his every move. Emily had invaded every corner of our life: dinners, movies, and vacations. His excuse? His assistant had to handle both his work and personal schedule, which meant she stayed glued to his side.

And now, he brushed off my upset as always.

The front door swung open. Emily stood on the threshold, beaming. "Mr. Grant, I'm so happy. With that cute car, I feel like I could drive anywhere in the world."

Richard ruffled her hair, his voice gentle. "Happiness comes to those who appreciate what they have. Next time, I'll get you an upgrade, all right?"

I stood in the shadows behind him, the subtext hitting hard. He was calling me ungrateful.

What he didn't know was that a top global investment firm reached out yesterday, inviting me to return to Wall Street.

He forgot who I was before we met: a rising star in high finance, not the freeloading fiancée he treated like a dependent. I walked away from all of it for him.

Yesterday, I planned to turn them down. But now, I was taking the offer.