Chapter 2

"Hey! Actor! Your break is over. Get back to your post!"

The manager's sharp voice cut through the fog in my head. He was standing at the other end of the hall, annoyed.

Sophia and her group had already disappeared into the main escape room, their laughter echoing behind them.

I forced my legs to move. Each step was heavy, like I was wading through wet concrete. I stumbled out of the hallway and back towards the staff area, my body on autopilot. My mind was just a blank screen of white noise and her words, replaying on a loop.

The fool.

As I passed the spot where she had shoved me, I saw something on the floor. A folded piece of paper and a sleek, silver Zippo lighter. I recognized the lighter instantly. I' d given it to her for our second anniversary. It was a cheap knock-off, but she' d claimed to love it.

I bent down and picked them up. The paper was a check. It must have fallen out of her purse.

I unfolded it.

The check was made out to Sophia Miller. The amount was for fifty thousand dollars. The signature at the bottom read: Liam Davis.

Fifty. Thousand. Dollars.

I laughed. A dry, broken sound escaped my lips. This was more money than I had made in the last two years combined. All my sweat, all my sleepless nights, all the paintings I sold for a fraction of their worth... it was all a joke. A pathetic joke.

Just this morning, I' d gotten a five-hundred-dollar commission for a portrait. I had been so excited. I couldn' t wait to get home and give the cash to Sophia, to see the relief on her face. I had imagined her hugging me, telling me we were one step closer to being free of debt.

Now, holding this check, that memory felt like a fantasy from another life.

As I stood there, dazed, two of the escape room employees walked past me, heading for their break.

"Did you see that group that just went in?" one of them whispered.

"You mean Liam Davis and his crew? Of course. It' s not every day you get the heir to the Davis Corporation in here."

"And was that Sophia Miller with him? I thought she was supposed to be in Europe."

"Guess she's back. They make a good-looking couple, don't they? A perfect match. Rich girl, rich guy."

My blood ran cold. Miss Miller? Rich girl?

The Sophia I knew lived in a tiny, rundown apartment with me. The Sophia I knew wore clothes from thrift stores and worried about making rent. The Sophia I knew had promised me that once her mom was better, we would save up and open a small art gallery café, just the two of us.

My hand started to shake, and the check slipped from my numb fingers, fluttering to the ground.

The two employees stopped and looked at me. One of them pointed.

"Hey, isn't that... holy crap. That's a check from Liam Davis."

The other one squinted. "To Sophia Miller. Why does this guy have it?"

The first one' s eyes widened with dawning comprehension. He looked from the check to my worn-out work clothes, my paint-stained hands. A look of pity and scorn crossed his face.

"Oh, I get it," he said, his voice a low, conspiratorial whisper that was loud enough for me to hear every single word. "You must be the 'poor artist' boyfriend she keeps around for fun. The one she was just telling everyone about."

His friend snickered. "Damn. I almost feel sorry for the guy. She' s been playing him this whole time."

The truth, delivered by strangers, was a final, brutal blow. I wasn't her partner. I was her hobby. Her charity case. Her fool.