Chapter 3

3

The day before our trip, I called in sick to work without telling him.

Brielle had complained online that she was sick of staying in the mansion, so her sugar daddy was taking her on a luxury shopping spree.

When I reached the high-end mall downtown, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb.

The chauffeur hurried to open the rear door, and Beckett stepped out.

He was not wearing his faded gray work clothes. Instead, he was dressed in a tailored cashmere overcoat over an impeccably cut designer suit.

I stood there frozen. The broke boyfriend who had whined about hauling heavy steel that very morning was actually the sole heir to the massive Reed real estate empire.

While I was still reeling, he opened the other car door himself, and Brielle threw herself into his arms.

“Aren’t you afraid your girlfriend might catch us?” she purred.

Beckett leaned down and kissed her passionately right there on the sidewalk.

I stood behind a tree nearby, watching my boyfriend of five years make out with another woman in broad daylight.

It took him a long time to pull away, only to plant two more quick kisses on her lips.

“What is there to fear? She is at work. I watched her board the city bus with my own eyes.”

“What if she somehow sees us anyway?”

“If she does...”

Beckett narrowed his eyes carelessly.

“At worst, I will just wire back the petty cash she made over the years.”

Brielle laughed triumphantly, wrapping her arm around his as they strolled into the mall.

I should have charged in after them.

I should have grabbed his collar and screamed at him, demanding to know why he betrayed me and played me for a fool.

Yet after two days of shock, my heart had gone completely numb.

My legs refused to move. I stayed rooted to the spot, watching Brielle post update after update.

“This French place is mediocre. Nowhere near as good as the private chef he hired for me at the villa.”

“Daddy brought me to a luxury spa! He says I need to look stunning for the holidays. He just transferred me another million. Going live at ten tonight to shower you guys with cash again!”

A commenter asked: “Aren’t you worried his girlfriend will catch you?”

Brielle replied: “I dare her to try. Daddy said if she finds out, he will just pay back the chump change she earned. What a loser, only making $65,000 in five whole years.”

Sixty-five thousand dollars. So that was how much I had slaved to earn for him over five years.

I wanted to laugh, but my lips would not even curve.

Two hours later, Brielle posted her daily spending receipt.

“My daily income is 1.2 million, babes!”

I have no idea how I got home.

By the time I snapped out of my daze, I was sitting on the couch. Beckett had just walked through the door, back in his tattered work clothes, his hair messy.

“Maisie, have you eaten yet?”

He rolled up his sleeves.

“Let me heat up those box lunches from the fridge. It will only take a minute.”

His voice was as gentle and caring as ever.

When we sat down, he deliberately pushed the portion with the chicken tenders to me, keeping only the plain vegetables for himself.

I held my fork, a mountain of words choking in my chest.

I wanted to ask why he had lied from day one, claiming to be a broke kid from the same small Midwest town with a family drowning in debt.

I had stayed by his side from freshman year through graduation, following him to the city to scrape by.

I had pinched every penny, working one full-time job and three part-time gigs, handing him every dime so he could clear his debt and marry me without burdens.

Yet in reality, he was a billionaire heir who blew millions on a whim, stringing me along while keeping a mistress in pure luxury.

Did he ever love me during these five years, or was I truly just a pet to keep him entertained?

Across the table, Beckett took two bites and stopped, barely hiding the disgust in his eyes.

I stared straight into his face.

“Beckett, how much is left on your family debt?”