Just before graduation, my boyfriend of four years, Scott, ended our relationship. As a parting gift, he gave me a villa, a Bentley, and eighteen million dollars — a token of gratitude, he said. Stunned, I demanded to know why. His voice turned cold: “For people like me, love and marriage are separate. I’m returning home for an arranged marriage.” He was engaged — to someone else. At the engagement party, I saw Scott, handsome in a bespoke suit. But opposite him stood his fiancée — short, severely overweight, with severe acne. Was this who he chose over me? My mind flashed to last night: he’d pinned me to the bed, whispering roughly, “Forget I’m human,” before devouring me. By morning, he was gone. His number disconnected, social media deleted. He vanished completely — until his lawyer arrived. He arrived at noon, explaining that Scott had given him specific instructions not to come any earlier, so as not to disturb my rest. He handed me a folder. I read the documents in a daze. It was a deed of gift. It stated that Scott was voluntarily transferring ownership of the villa, the Bentley, and eighteen million dollars to me, as a thank-you for our four years together. So that was it. He dumps me out of the blue and throws money at me like I was some prized canary he was setting free. The irony was, I didn’t need his money. I’d told him as much when we first got together. He’d just smiled with that infuriating confidence of his and said, “No matter how rich you are, you’ll never be as rich as me.” I never bothered to argue. I was in love with him, so what did it matter? But why break up now? Last night, the man who was usually so cool and composed had been so fierce, so desperate, whispering “I love you” over and over again like a prayer. How could it all be gone? I forced myself to be calm. Using my family’s resources, I found out where he was in less than an hour. And that’s how I ended up here, at his engagement party. I could see it in his eyes—Scott wasn't happy. Was he being forced into this? “Kiss her! Kiss her!” someone in the crowd yelled. I watched as the woman reached for Scott’s hand. He flinched back, a purely instinctual retreat. Her face soured. Her thick lips twisted as she hissed, spittle flying, “Have you already forgotten what you promised me?” The color drained from Scott’s face. He took a hesitant step forward. He was being threatened. I was sure of it. I pushed my way through the crowd. “Scott!” I shouted, my voice ringing through the hall. “If you’re in trouble, just tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every head in the room turned to stare at me. When Scott saw me, a flicker of joy ignited in his cold eyes, only to be instantly extinguished by a frost of panic. “Who is this bitch?” the woman on stage screeched, glaring at me. “Calling my fiancé by his first name. How very intimate.” Before I could declare who I was, Scott cut me off. He knitted his handsome brows, his voice dripping with disdain. “She’s just some pathetic groupie who won’t let go. Have security throw her out. Ignore her.” Groupie? I could feel the weight of their contemptuous stares. No one respects a desperate hanger-on. But that wasn’t me. We met at a university club event. I had just finished Muay Thai practice and was so hungry I could have eaten a horse. I ended up sneaking some of my roommate’s snacks. She teased me about it, jokingly demanding I call her “mommy” as punishment. We were always messing around like that, so I did it. Scott, ever the gentleman, stepped in to defend me. He told her she shouldn’t bully someone just because they were poor, then gently told me I shouldn’t steal. He was always like that—a man with a strong moral compass, always standing up for what was right. So I played the part. The poor, pitiful girl. I followed him around like a lost puppy until, before long, he was mine. The whole campus gossiped that he was my sugar daddy, that I was his gold-digging girlfriend. I was worried it would tarnish his reputation, so I told him the truth—that my family was ridiculously wealthy. He just shrugged it off, not seeming to care one way or the other. Our four years together were a sweet, steady love story. No dramatic highs or lows. We almost never fought. Which is why this sudden, brutal breakup felt like a betrayal I couldn’t comprehend. I had to know the real reason. I stared at the man on the stage and started walking toward him. Before I could reach him, the woman intercepted me. She was so short she had to crane her neck to look up at me, and I had to look down to meet her gaze. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming up here,” she snarled, and then she lunged, her hand swinging for my face. I stepped back easily, dodging the slap. I looked past her, my eyes fixed on Scott. “You broke up with me for this?” “What did you just say?” Scott strode forward, his hand raised. He slapped me. I could have dodged it. I dodged hers. But I didn’t dodge his. He’d been sick recently, and I was afraid a sudden movement might make him lose his balance. He was about to marry someone else, and here I was, still worrying about him. How pathetic could I be? I touched my stinging cheek, my heart shattering. “So you’re the college girlfriend,” the woman said, sauntering over with a sneer. “A cheap gold digger putting on airs. Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Veronica Thorne. The Thornes are the richest family in St. Claire.” I ignored her, my gaze locked on Scott. “You just left. No explanation. That wasn’t fair to me.” “Fair?” he shot back. “I gave you the villa, the car, the money. What more could you possibly want? Stop making a scene, Jane. We’re over.” His brow was furrowed in frustration. “You know how it is for families like mine. Love and marriage are separate. Thank you for the last four years, but my wife can only be Veronica. Understand?” “I just want to know one thing,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “Do you love me?” I knew all about strategic marriages between powerful families. My own parents were a product of one, though they were lucky—childhood sweethearts whose union was a natural conclusion. As for me… I was supposed to have one too, but my family’s position in New York was so secure, it was no longer a necessity. “Love?” Scott let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Jane, I’ve known since I was a child that my marriage would be an alliance. I don’t believe in love. I was with you because you were beautiful, and frankly, you were poor enough to be easily managed.” He smirked. “There. You have your answer. Now go.” So that was it. What I thought was a deep, sweet love was just an illusion I’d created for myself. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a beautiful, obedient pet. A canary in a gilded cage. It was laughable. I nodded, a bitter taste in my mouth. If that’s how it was, then fine. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest, but I knew how to let go. I came here to fight for him. But if the fight was already lost, I would walk away. “Alright,” I said, forcing a brittle smile. “I wish you happiness, Scott.” With that, I turned to leave the stage. I saw Scott clench his fists out of the corner of my eye, but he looked away, refusing to meet my gaze. But Veronica stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You’re not going anywhere,” she sneered. “You came all this way. You’ll stay and watch. If you leave now, you’re disrespecting me, my family, and all of St. Claire.”
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