After Seeing Through Her Boyfriend's Disguise

My boyfriend is a liar.

He used a sob story about his broken family to take everything I had.

To help him pay off his father's million-dollar gambling debt, I sold my family home, the house that had been in my family for generations. I even sold the heirloom my grandmother left me when she passed away.

To scrape together that million dollars, to try and carve out a bit of peace for us, I took on five jobs. My meals were as simple as they could be—bread and pickles for breakfast and plain pasta for lunch. I couldn't even afford to take the air-conditioned bus.

And him? He took the money I got from selling my blood and stuffed it into a cash gun, spraying it around in nightclubs like it was nothing.

We were together for nine years, and for nine years, he lied to me.

He was never some poor, struggling guy. He was actually a filthy rich trust fund kid.

And me? I was just a bet, a little joke to keep things interesting, a gullible fool who didn't have the brains to see through him.

But what he didn't know was that to get him that money, I pushed my body to its limits. I had been diagnosed with brain cancer. I didn't have much time left.