Chapter 3

I didn't look back.

Joel hurried after me and shoved the umbrella into my hand.

He offered, "Ms. Winters, if you need a ride, I can arrange it."

"No, thanks," I replied.

He looked at me and suddenly said in a low voice, "Someone finally restored the original ending of that scene."

I stopped in my tracks. "Who did it?"

Joel replied, "The person who dropped off the script didn't give their name. They said not to let anyone mess it up."

I glanced at the theater entrance.

Marissa was standing beneath the glow of the lights, linking arms with Simon as they posed for a photo.

I folded up my umbrella. "That's good."

After my birthday, Simon started coming back less often.

But his mother, Margaret Grant, was showing up more frequently.

At ten in the morning, she walked in with two maids, looking around as if she were inspecting a hotel room.

"You really need to tidy up this place. Simon is about to get engaged, and the media is watching. We can't have him caught on camera coming out of somewhere like this," she said.

I poured her a glass of water. "Just say what you want."

Margaret sat down, her bracelet clinking against the glass with a sharp, unpleasant sound.

"Marissa's family is in trouble, and the Grant Family is helping her out. It's the right thing to do. You've been with Simon for years. You should know how things work," she said.

"How sensible do you expect me to be?" I asked.

She pulled an invitation out of her bag and slid it across the table to me.

"You're coming to the engagement party. But don't show up as his girlfriend. Just say you're an old classmate that Simon used to support back in school," she said.

I stared at the invitation, seeing Simon and Marissa's names printed side by side.

"That's not what you said when I was the one supporting him," I said.

Margaret's expression stiffened.

During the hardest years of Simon's startup, I sold the little house my grandma left me and gave it all to him.

He said it was a loan, and he'd pay me back once the company made it big. But when it finally did, he said bringing up money would only mess up our relationship.

Margaret cleared her throat. "We haven't forgotten what you gave. But when a man's making it big, he needs a woman who can stand beside him and make him look good.

"Marissa comes from a better family, and she's got the right education, and she's the kind of woman who looks good standing next to Simon."

I asked, "So I'm not presentable enough?"

"Your parents run a tiny restaurant, always reeking of grease. Tell me, how is that supposed to be respectable?" Margaret scoffed.

Keys jingled at the door.

Simon walked in, with Marissa trailing behind him, carrying a gift box.

"Mom, what brings you here?" Simon asked.

Margaret pointed at me. "I'm here to show her her place. She has to attend the engagement party, sit at the farthest table, and not say a word."

Simon frowned, "Mom, don't say it like that."

I looked at him. "Why don't you say it yourself?"

Marissa set the gift box down. "Ms. Winters, I picked out this dress for you. It would be more appropriate if you wore it to the engagement party."

She opened the box, revealing a long gray dress. The fabric was drab and lifeless, as if something I'd wear to mourn the dead.

Margaret nodded. "Marissa's really thoughtful. Don't show up all flashy and glamorous, trying to steal the spotlight from the hosts."

"I'm not going," I said.

Simon's tone turned cold. "Lily, don't be stubborn. If you show up, people won't start gossiping. Once the whole thing blows over, I'll make it up to you."

"How are you going to make it up to me?" I asked.

"You've always wanted to open your own shop, right? I'll cover the rent for you," Simon said.

Margaret's face immediately soured. "Simon, don't indulge her. She comes from a family that runs a hole-in-the-wall diner. Does she really think she can be the boss?"

Marissa quickly tried to smooth things over. "Mrs. Grant. Ms. Winters has real skills in the kitchen. Maybe she could actually pull it off and run her own place."

I stared at her. "How do you know I can cook?"

Marissa paused, a little taken aback. "Simon told me you used to bring him homemade soup all the time."

That was back when Simon's stomach problems were at their worst. I'd get up before dawn to make him oatmeal and deliver it to his office before the sun rose.

But once he got better, everyone in the office started saying Marissa was the one who took such good care of him.

Figures. I should've known the credit would go to her in the end.

I picked up the gray dress and tossed it straight into the trash. "Simon, I'll go to the engagement party."

Marissa was about to smile when I cut her off, "But what I wear or where I sit? That's my call, not yours."

Margaret slammed her hand on the table. "Don't you dare embarrass the Grant Family."

I pulled the door open. "Don't worry. Once you lose face, there's no getting it back."

Simon caught up to me at the door, barely holding back his anger. "Just tell me what you really want, Lily."

I stared at the peeling paint on the hallway walls. "I want you to give me back everything you owe me."

He said, "Are you really going to turn seven years into a debt?"

I replied, "You were the one who treated me as if something old you could toss aside."