Chapter 2

Claire said it softly—one line at a time—but every word felt like a blade, slicing straight through the three years I'd given her.

My throat tightened as I spoke, my voice dry and strained, "Then… why didn't you tell me earlier?"

She gave a short, mocking laugh. "If I had, how would you have kept paying for my apartment, my handbags, my credit card bills? You loved me so much—I didn't have the heart to crush you."

I staggered slightly, barely staying on my feet.

Then a man spoke up—her father, Harris Terry.

"I warned you long ago—stop clinging to Claire. With a background like yours, what do you really think you're worth?

"The wedding's canceled. Go back to wherever you came from. Don't embarrass yourself here."

Around the room, voices joined in. "The Terry family doesn't need this kind of humiliation."

"A broke guy getting married? What a joke. Seriously, does he think love puts food on the table?"

I stood in the middle of the room like I was invisible—just something for everyone to laugh at.

I'd proposed with nothing but sincerity, and now I looked like some pitiful fool who'd been robbed in front of a crowd.

I lowered my head and stared at the ring box in my hand. Inside, the plain silver bands rested quietly against the velvet.

I'd imagined the moment I'd slip one on her finger so many times. Now it just sat there, silently mocking my stupidity.

Clack—

The box slipped from my hand and hit the floor, rolling until it stopped at Claire's feet.

She didn't even glance down. With a flick of her foot, she kicked it aside. "Really? You actually treated that 70 dollars junk like it was a treasure?"

Laughter erupted across the room.

Rubin walked over and clapped me on the shoulder.

"Come on, don't take it so hard. You simp for three years and end up with nothing—it's what you get.

"She stuck around that long. That's already pretty generous. Just think of it like renting a girlfriend. Time's up. Lease ended."

My stomach turned.

Three years. I'd gone from the heir of the Bowers family… to this.

I didn't blame her for looking down on me because I was broke. I blamed myself—for being dumb enough to believe she actually loved me.

I turned and walked out. No one stopped me. No one came after me.

Outside, it was raining.

I walked down the street alone, still wearing the suit everyone had just laughed at.

The hems of my pants were soaked in dirty water. Mud clung to the soles of my shoes. The ring was gone—probably kicked into a storm drain.

I kept walking, for what felt like forever. Wandering through the night like a ghost.

Then my phone buzzed.

I pulled it out. A message from an unknown number.

[Blake, it's time to wake up. What your father left behind has waited three years.]

[Be at the mountain villa—where your mother's accident happened—before midnight. Don't be late.]

I froze.

That number... it was listed in my father's will before he died.

I'd called it more than once over the past three years. No one had ever picked up.

Until now. A message. Out of nowhere.

I didn't know if it was a cruel prank, or just another lie waiting to unravel.

But honestly? I had nothing left to lose.

I looked up at the black sky.

The rain was coming down harder.

I whispered, "Alright.

The night pressed heavy. Storm clouds hanging low, like they were about to crush the city.

[Blake, it's time to wake up. What your father left behind has waited three years.] [Be at the mountain villa—where your mother's accident happened—before midnight. Don't be late.]

A single message from a stranger pulled me up from the dirt.

In that moment, I thought it was just fate's final punchline—a last cruel twist before the credits rolled.

But when I opened the map, the location was marked with pinpoint accuracy: Bowers Manor.

A place I hadn't dared mention in years.

Fifteen years ago, my mother died there.

The police closed the case quickly. The family went silent. I was just a kid—too young to understand. My last memory of her was watching her fall down those stairs.

After that, the villa was sealed. The family issued a strict order: no one was to speak of it again.

I always thought that place had been buried with the past, filled with nothing but dust and death. I never expected that, at my lowest point, it would open its doors to me again.