The day I found out I was pregnant was the day Cole Harrison dumped me. He slid a black Amex across the polished marble of his kitchen island. “There’s three million dollars on this,” he said, his voice as cool and hard as the stone. “Take it and go.” I picked it up, testing its weight in my palm. I let out a low whistle. “Is that all?” This might not even last until the kid’s fifth birthday, I thought. His hand, which had been reaching for a pack of cigarettes, froze mid-air. “I’ll wire another two million in a couple of days.” I knew when to quit while I was ahead. A bright, meaningless smile spread across my face as I gathered my things and walked out of his life. A month later, I was cruising down Fifth Avenue in my BMW when I saw him. He was wearing a DoorDash uniform, wrestling a flimsy paper bag out of an insulated backpack on the back of an e-bike. “Cole? What is this, some kind of reality show?” I pulled over, not caring if I embarrassed him. He scanned me from head to toe, my new dress, my perfect blowout, and sighed. The sound seemed to come from the very soles of his worn-out sneakers. “The truth is, Lena,” he said, his voice raspy, “I went broke. About a month ago.” He finally met my eyes. “I couldn’t support you anymore. I figured it was better to push you away than to have you leave me out of disgust.” I blinked, my brain struggling to process this. “But… what about Clara? The one that got away?” A flicker of something—pride? relief?—crossed his face. “She came back. Found me. Said she didn’t care about the money. She’s willing to stick it out with me, help me rebuild.” I immediately slid on my oversized sunglasses, creating a shield between my face and his. “Well. Wishing you two all the best.” Then I was back in my car, hitting the gas and leaving the new, broke, noble version of Cole Harrison standing in a cloud of exhaust. 1 I have three fundamental fears in life. One: being broke. Two: being dead. Three: being alive, but broke. I pushed the BMW up to eighty on the West Side Highway, the city blurring past me. In my rearview mirror, a tiny light bobbed and weaved through traffic, getting closer. It was Cole, on that pathetic little e-bike. “What the hell do you want?” I yelled, pulling over and rolling down my window as he caught up. “Don’t tell me you want the money back!” His handsome face, slick with sweat under the flimsy helmet, looked genuinely confused. He was breathing hard. “No, of course not.” He hesitated, his expression shifting into something tentative, almost vulnerable. “I just… I wanted to ask… is it enough? For now?” My defensive posture softened just a fraction. “It’ll do.” For two years with Cole, my life had been a whirlwind of limitless spending. Five million used to be my budget for six months of fun, not a lifetime. “It’ll do?” he repeated, a frown creasing his brow. “So… does that mean you’ll be looking for… someone else?” I stared up at the roof of my car and rolled my eyes so hard I felt it in my skull. “Cole, instead of worrying about my love life, maybe you should worry about your delivery ETA.” I rolled up the window and drove away. This time, he didn’t follow. Back in my apartment, a text from my best friend, Maya, lit up my phone. MAYA:【OH MY GOD!!!!】 MAYA:【You will not BELIEVE who just delivered my lunch. COLE HARRISON.】 MAYA:【Like, ‘buy you a wall of Birkins for your birthday’ Cole Harrison???】 MAYA:【Is he doing some billionaire ‘undercover boss’ thing?】 I typed back. ME:【He’s broke. We split up last month. He’s delivering pad thai to support his long-lost love now.】 MAYA:【…】 MAYA:【Wow. What a man of character, I guess.】 Maya’s dad died young, her mom’s disabled, and with no college degree, she’d been scraping by working at a bubble tea shop. I’d helped her out a lot over the past couple of years. As we finished texting, I wired her fifty thousand dollars. She sent it right back. MAYA:【No, seriously, Lena, I’m good! I got that sales job, remember? I start next month, and the commission is insane. I’ll be making six figures!】 I smiled and didn’t push it. From now on, I had to be careful. I had a little one in my belly to think about. 2 I didn’t see Cole after that. Using the money I’d saved during my two years as a kept woman, I bought a sprawling condo in a luxury high-rise overlooking Central Park. The rest of the five million I handed over to a financial advisor who specialized in making rich people richer. My life became quiet. I stayed home. I rarely ordered in. Then one day, leaving an OB-GYN appointment on the Upper East Side, I saw her. Clara. Cole’s great lost love. She was stepping into the back of a black Maybach. My inner gossip columnist took over. I followed them. I watched the Maybach glide through the gates of a ridiculously opulent private community in Greenwich, Connecticut. Holy shit. Was Cole, in his quest for noble poverty, getting cheated on? The question was so juicy I couldn't leave. I parked down the street and waited. It wasn’t until well after dark that the Maybach reappeared. I followed it again. This time, it stopped in midtown Manhattan. Clara got out and hailed a cab. So I followed the cab. It took me to a shabby, pre-war walk-up in a forgotten corner of Queens. The kind of place that perpetually smelled of mildew and old city damp. This, I was certain, was the new love nest she shared with Cole. A universe away from his former penthouse. I leaned against my car and waited. At half-past midnight, a lone e-bike pulled up to the curb. “Cole,” I called out. “Lena?” He squinted, then walked over, his surprise obvious. “How did you know I live here?” I ignored the question. “You should probably be a little nicer to Clara,” I said, hinting at what I’d seen. He clearly didn’t get it. He held up a plastic bag. “I’m great to her. Whenever there’s a canceled order at the end of my shift, I bring it home for her.” My gaze dropped to the bag. Inside was a container of what looked like soggy, lukewarm wontons. I looked back up at his earnest face. The expression I gave him was the one you reserve for people who tell you the earth is flat. “Never mind. My mistake,” I said with a tight smile, and got the hell out of there. I was starting to think poverty had done more than just change Cole’s circumstances; it had broken his brain. I needed to stay far away, for the sake of my unborn child’s sanity. But I should have known it wouldn’t be that simple. A few days later, my doorbell rang. It was Clara. She was here to demand I give the money back. “So you’re living pretty well,” she said, breezing past me into the foyer, not bothering to take off her shoes. She surveyed my apartment with a look of undisguised contempt. “While Cole is drowning in debt.” She plopped down on my velvet sofa. “He gave you five million dollars before he went bankrupt, didn't he?” she accused. “Do you have any idea how much that would help him right now? If you had a shred of decency, you’d give it back.” Without a word, I pulled out my phone and called Cole. “Cole,” I said the moment he answered. “Did you send Clara over here to shake me down for money?” 3 There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rumble. “Clara is at your place? I had no idea.” A pause. “Where are you? I’m coming to get her right now.” When Cole arrived, he was still in his DoorDash uniform. He actually stopped at the door and asked if I had any of those disposable shoe covers. “Don’t bother,” I said. “Just take her and go.” “You have a thing about cleanliness,” he insisted. “I should put them on.” From the living room, Clara let out a cold, bitter laugh. “You don’t have to come in, Cole. I’m leaving.” She grabbed her purse and stormed towards the door. As she passed him, her voice cracked with a hurt I hadn’t expected. “At home, you’re so exhausted you collapse into bed without even taking your shoes off. You leave your sweaty socks everywhere. Do you ever think about me the way you still think about her, Cole? Do you?!” With that, she ran down the hall, choking back a sob. I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as Cole and I stood there in the awkward silence. Finally, I sighed. “You know, for what it’s worth, you really should try to be a little neater.” Cole’s gaze drifted back from the empty hallway to me, a complex, unreadable smile playing on his lips. “I’ve just been so tired lately, Lena. I can’t keep up with the details anymore.” I let out another long breath. This is what I was talking about. This is why I was afraid of being broke. It had taken Cole, a man who was once the epitome of refined elegance, and turned him into a slob. But still… something about his behavior felt off. A weird, unsettling performance. It’s probably just the pregnancy hormones, I told myself. Making me paranoid. The next day, I wired two hundred thousand dollars to the account Cole had given me. In the notes, I wrote: Don’t make this a habit. The price of a soft heart was too damn high. If I spent my life feeling sorry for everyone else, who was going to feel sorry for me, a single mom-to-be? Staring at my reduced bank balance, I finally felt calm enough to take a nap. But a new problem arose. Now that Cole knew where I lived, things started appearing at my door. Unordered deliveries. Sometimes it was groceries from Whole Foods—fresh vegetables, fruit, fish, organic milk. Sometimes it was a cake from my favorite bakery. Sometimes lattes and pastries. And sometimes, full-on feasts: sushi platters, barbecue ribs, a hot pot setup from Haidilao. They weren't extravagant, but they were all my favorites. If Cole hadn’t texted me each time to let me know it was from him, I would have assumed someone was trying to poison me. I knew he was probably just thanking me for the two hundred grand. So, I graciously accepted. Every time I ate, I’d rub my belly and whisper. “This is from your dad, sweetie.” “What’s that? You don’t like it?” “Don’t be a snob. This is all he can afford right now.” “You just make do. Mommy will take you to a Michelin-starred restaurant tomorrow.” But as I sat in that Michelin-starred restaurant the next day, the chef meticulously preparing a tasting menu just for me, my mind kept drifting. I saw Cole sitting across from me, not in a delivery uniform, but in a Tom Ford suit. I saw him sliding a velvet box across the table, revealing a ruby necklace, his eyes sparkling with the same pride as the gems inside. 4 When we first got together, I knew about Clara. She was the one that got away, the goddess he’d worshipped in college. He never got the girl. So he got busy, built an empire instead. And then he got me, with a ruby necklace. I thought I was just terrified of being poor. I’d clawed my way out of a forgotten town at the foot of a mountain, a place so small it wasn’t on any map. I’d come to the big city and nearly gotten sold to some sleazy club owner before I knew what was happening. I’d hit wall after wall trying to find a real job, learning just how complicated and cruel people could be. So when Cole opened that velvet box and said, “Lena, just be with me,” I didn’t hesitate. And when I later found that old, treasured photo of Clara tucked away in his desk drawer, it didn’t even hurt that much. We didn’t look alike, not really. We were just the same type. What was I really losing? Nothing. In return, I got money, designer bags, and a closet full of beautiful clothes. My handsome, generous benefactor was good to me. What more could I ask for? So when I heard his long-lost love was coming back, I took the five million and walked. You can’t be too greedy in this life. I’d already been given more than I’d ever dreamed of in my first twenty-four years. True love? I’d leave that for other people. I sniffled, stuffing a ridiculously expensive piece of foie gras into my mouth. I waved at the chef shaving black truffles over my plate. “Keep ‘em coming,” I mumbled. Just as I finished, my phone rang. An unknown number. “Hello? I’m calling about your boyfriend, a Mr. Cole Harrison? He was in an accident on his delivery route. Can you come to Mount Sinai Hospital right away?” By the time I got there, Cole was lying in a hospital bed, looking perfectly fine and fully conscious. When he saw me, his brow unfurrowed into a relieved smile. “Lena, you’re here.” I scanned him from head to toe. The only visible injury was a patch of gauze on his ankle, no wider than the palm of my hand. “If I’d gotten here any later, would it have already healed?” He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry. I guess I passed out for a minute. The paramedics used face ID to unlock my phone and called you. It was my emergency contact.” I put my hands on my hips. “Why didn’t they call Clara? She’s your girlfriend now, isn’t she?” I was furious. I’d been stuffed from dinner, and I’d rushed over here, running through the hospital, getting a stitch in my side. I was pregnant, for god’s sake! The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a flicker of something sad. “Because in my phone,” he explained softly, “you’re still listed as ‘Baby’.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I didn’t say another word. As I turned to leave, I nearly collided with Clara, who was just arriving. She shot me a cold glare but, surprisingly, didn’t say anything nasty. She even walked me to the hospital entrance. I pulled open my car door. She stood on the curb above me, looking down with a strange intensity. “Lena, I have to ask you something,” she said, her voice low. “Cole… is he… bad in bed?”
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