Chapter 2

Ethan' s friend, a guy named Mark, threw a party.

"It' s in a cool spot," Ethan said, "A converted warehouse. You should come."

Ava had a bad feeling after a small fight with Ethan. He' d been distant.

She wanted to surprise him, to make things right.

She arrived late at the warehouse. Music pounded, lights flashed.

The place was packed with rich kids, the kind Ava grew up with but tried to forget.

She looked for Ethan.

She found him near a makeshift bar, surrounded by a laughing group of young men.

She couldn' t hear them clearly at first, then voices cut through the noise.

"So, Ace, when do you collect?" one voice, slick and loud.

Ace? Ava frowned. Ethan' s nickname among these people?

"The Aston Martin DB5 is practically mine," Ethan' s voice, cold and arrogant, so different from the voice that sang her love songs.

"And the bragging rights, man. Priceless. Did she really fall for the struggling musician bit?" another voice jeered.

Ethan laughed. "Like a lost puppy. So naive it hurt. Didn' t even question why a 'struggling musician' knew so much about vintage cars."

Ava' s blood ran cold.

The world tilted.

She stepped forward, into their circle of light.

"Ethan?"

He turned, his smile freezing on his face when he saw her.

His friends went quiet, smirks appearing.

"Ava. What are you doing here?" Ethan, no, Ace Sterling, heir to a tech fortune, said. His voice was flat.

"The bet," Ava said, her own voice a whisper. "I was a bet?"

Ethan shrugged, a flicker of something in his eyes, then gone. "It was a game, Ava. Don' t take it so hard."

"A game?" Her voice rose. "My life? My feelings?"

He looked bored. "You were easy. Too easy."

One of his friends snickered. "She actually thought you were poor, Ace!"

Humiliation washed over Ava, hot and sickening.

She remembered a gift she' d given him, a vintage guitar pick she' d saved for weeks to buy. She' d thought it was special, a piece of her supporting his dream.

It was in her pocket. She' d brought it to give back after their fight, as a peace offering.

She pulled it out.

"This," she said, her hand shaking, "was this part of the game too?"

Ethan looked at the pick, then at her. He didn' t say anything.

Ava threw it at his face.

It bounced off his cheek, a small, insignificant thing.

He didn' t flinch, just watched her.

"Get out, Ava," he said, his voice soft but final.

She turned and ran, pushing through the crowd, their laughter echoing behind her.

The vintage Aston Martin DB5. That' s what she was worth.

And bragging rights.