Chapter 2

2

His back stiffened. Then, he gently pried my fingers away.

“No need. It is freezing outside.”

I refused to let go. My eyes locked onto the dark red mark on his collarbone, and my voice trembled.

“What happened there?”

He looked down, his eye twitching violently.

“Must have been scraped by the rebar while carrying it. I have to go, get some sleep.”

All the strength drained out of my body.

In the livestream, someone had asked if her diamond necklace was a gift from her sugar daddy.

She had laughed playfully.

“No, a certain wild dog got too rough and snapped my old chain, so he bought me this to apologize.”

“Of course, I made him pay. I sucked a huge hickey right on his collarbone with everything I had.”

She had pointed to the exact spot on her collarbone.

Beckett walked out the door.

I was left standing alone in the hallway, rubbing my thumb raw against my fingers.

How had I been so blind for so long?

His fingers were long and clean, without a single callus. How could those be the hands of a man who hauled steel rebar every day?

At three in the morning, Brielle updated her feed again.

“Told you he loves me best!”

In the photo, she snuggled against a man’s chest, her cheeks flushed pink.

The man’s face was hidden behind an emoji, but he was wearing the loungewear I had bought for Beckett with my own hands.

I zoomed in on the picture until my screen blurred. Brielle was wearing an oversized white dress shirt.

Embroidered right over the chest pocket were the initials BR. It was the birthday gift I had spent weeks hand-stitching for Beckett last year.

He had cherished it like a treasure, swearing he would save it for the day we signed our marriage license.

Instead, he had given it to her.

I sat with my eyes open until dawn, dragging myself to my day job like a hollow shell.

After that shift, I headed straight to the boba shop for my evening gig.

When I got home at eleven, Beckett was already sitting at the table.

Two greasy takeout boxes sat in front of him.

“The site had extra box lunches today,” he said gently. “I begged the foreman for them and put the rest in the fridge.”

“This will save us two days of food money, and we can still eat our fill.”

I walked over in silence and stared at the greasy food.

All I could see was Brielle’s post from earlier, bragging about how Beckett had flown a French chef to the mansion to cook her a private lunch.

Bile rose in my throat. I turned straight toward the bedroom.

“I am exhausted. You eat.”

Shortly after I lay down, Beckett wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice low and raspy.

“Maisie, I am so sorry. You have suffered so much because of my family debt.”

I let out a faint, noncommittal sound.

“Christmas Eve is the day after tomorrow,” he continued. “We do not have enough money for two train tickets. You go home first, and I will wait for you here.”

I opened my eyes, tapped on the ticketing app, and turned the screen toward him.

“I won some cash in a giveaway stream yesterday. I bought both our tickets. We are going home together.”

In the phone’s glow, his brow furrowed, a flash of annoyance crossing his face.

He never expected me to scrape together the money.

After all, I had handed him every single penny I had the morning before, leaving myself with only the $212 he gave me.

The irritation vanished in a split second. He pulled me close, burying his face in my neck.

“That is wonderful. We get to go home together after all.”

“Maisie, thank you.”

He was still lying to my face.

I locked my phone, plunging the room into darkness.

His fingertips found the teardrop mole beneath my eye, stroking it gently.

He was petting me just like an obedient little animal.