Braving a downpour, I delivered a lavish food order, anticipating the hefty commission and a $100 tip.

Laughter suddenly echoed from the villa.

Someone started, "He really believes your car crash left you paralyzed? He's hustling deliveries to support you and even pawned his dad's heirloom?"

Another said, "What if he discovers you're actually a billionaire heiress, just playing poor? He'd probably break down in tears."

Jessica Stark toyed with her wine glass. "Guys like him are wired to serve, especially since he always outshone Mark in our school days. This is his comeuppance."

I stood in the relentless rain, a bitter chuckle escaping my lips.

Turned out, her two-year charade of paralysis was merely to avenge her childhood sweetheart.

Her broken legs, deceased parents, and helpless tears were all meticulously crafted lies.

Disillusioned, I dialed my estranged tycoon mother. "You win. I'll go through with the arranged marriage."

...

After I ended the call, Mark Castro's voice drifted from the villa.

"That's my darling Jess, pampering me and taking that jerk down a peg. Fantastic!" he said, gently lifting Jessica's chin.

There, glinting on his ring finger, was my dad's signet ring.

Jessica giggled, nipping his fingertip playfully. "You're such a tease!"

Her supposedly paralyzed legs lounged crossed on the coffee table, showing no sign of impairment.

The thick white cast that had deceived me for two years glared mockingly under the lights.

Clutching my delivery box, I rapped on the door.

Heads turned toward me. The lively chatter in the living room died instantly, replaced by an oppressive silence.

I approached Jessica, my drenched sneakers squelching and leaving muddy puddles on the floor.

Her voice came out strained, her eyes darting evasively. "What are you doing here? I'm just catching up with some old classmates."

I ignored her, my gaze fixed on the ring adorning Mark's hand. "Give it back."

Jessica's smile froze, unprepared for my chill.

She wheeled closer, attempting her well-practiced soothing tone. "Noah, let me explain."

"Explain what?" I interrupted her, my mouth curling into a smile that felt more like a grimace. "That you graciously sold my ring to Mark at a premium? Or that your broken legs miraculously regained function today of all days?"

She blanched, her lips parting, but no words came out.

The tension thickened, broken by a snort from Mark.

He rose leisurely, his leather shoes clicking as he approached, deliberately waving the ringed hand in my face.

"This little trinket? Jess gifted it to me," he said, his eyes brimming with provocation and glee. "Got your eye on it?"

Jessica's complexion shifted from ashen to flushed. "Mark, enough. He..."

"What's the matter?" Mark cut her off, scanning my sodden, cheap uniform with open contempt. "Want it back? Sure. Give me 500 grand. Friends' discount, since I wore it."

His words hung heavy in the air.

After clashing with my mother, I'd exhausted everything for Jessica's treatment, pawning my dad's keepsake. I couldn't scrape together even $500.

I glared at his triumphant grin, then at Jessica, who averted her eyes and tacitly endorsed his ridicule.

It felt like an icy fist clenched around my heart, extinguishing the final flicker of nostalgia for what we had shared.

"Okay, deal," I said, eager to get back my dad's final memento.

Then I'd sever all ties with these toxic people.

"Can you afford that?" Mark guffawed dramatically, doubling over as if I'd told the world's best joke.

Then he jabbed a finger at the insulated box still in my grip, the one holding the lavish feast.

"You'd deliver lifetimes for that sum. Take a gander at this upscale spread. Ever sampled anything like it? Are you worthy of it?"

Abruptly, he snatched the box and hurled it down before I could react.

The wooden case slammed against the marble, splintering on impact. The lid flew off, unleashing a cascade of meticulously arranged delicacies: fresh sashimi, glistening caviar, premium beef...

He surveyed the wreckage with satisfaction, planting his shoe on a slab of rare bluefin tuna and twisting his heel into it.

"See? I chuck it like yesterday's trash. You are stuck in your dead-end life, never bold enough to indulge like this," he scoffed. "You'll never rake in the cash for luxuries like these. You're destined to just catch a whiff. That's our gap, get it?"

The crowd erupted in caustic guffaws and barbs.

"Spot on. A delivery boy challenging Mark?"

"Poor sod, born low. 500 grand? Sure, if he snags a wealthy widow."

"Easy on the eye, though. Prime bait for cougars."

With the sycophantic cheers, Mark's arrogance swelled.

He fiddled with the ring absentmindedly, then eyed my disheveled form with utter revulsion.

"Jess said it's antique, but you're flat broke. How valuable could it be? Probably just cheap junk. Only a sap like you would cherish this garbage," he added, gripping the ring tightly.

Before anyone could react, he yanked it off, flung open the sliding glass door, and threw it out.

The ring sailed through the pouring rain and plunged straight into an artificial river flanking the mansion.

"No!" I shouted, my vision blurring with fury.

That was my dad's irreplaceable legacy.

I instinctively dashed to the balcony, ready to vault the railing into icy waters.

"Noah!" Jessica shouted, leaping from her wheelchair.

Her agility was startling, belying any notion of a two-year paralysis.

In a blur, she closed the distance, wrapping her arms around my waist and hauling me back.

"Let go of me!" I thrashed, watching in despair as the murky currents erased the ring's gleam.

The icy rain mingled with scalding tears, veiling my sight.

"Snap out of it!" she yelled. "Risking your life for some worthless ring?"

Her voice mixed panic, fear, but mostly irritation at my recklessness.

But the worthless ring from her mouth was my tangible link to my dad. Mark had discarded it like refuse.

Rage, sorrow, and degradation coalesced into a numbing void. I stilled, her embrace feeling like chains around my rigid frame.

"Let's break up," I said calmly.

Jessica stiffened, then dismissed it as a joke. "Don't be silly. I know you're upset about the ring. I'll get Mark to say sorry. We can..."

"I'm serious," I said, prying her fingers off.

Turning around, I looked at the face that now repulsed me to my core.

"Two years of theater. Aren't you tired?" I spat. "The ring is gone, and so is any lingering affection. How much longer do you intend to string me along?"

Her eyes flickered, but she quickly donned her old, fragile mask.

"What are you talking about?" she sobbed. "My legs were genuinely impaired. Treatment has just started showing results. Are you ditching me now? You always resented me, eager to flee?"

Once again, she wielded her disability and fear of abandonment for sympathy. But now, her masterful act was just ridiculous.

I had no energy left to argue with her. Silently, I went back to retrieve the soiled, vacant delivery box.

Without sparing another glance at her or the gawking crowd, I pivoted and trudged into the deluge.

From behind, Mark's puzzled tone carried over. "The truth is out, so what? Scared he'll cry?"

Someone echoed, "An heiress falling for a delivery boy? No way."

Jessica's response eluded my ears.

With the relationship shattered, my delivery gig lost its purpose.

I called my supervisor to resign.

He was baffled. "What's up? You are killing it here. Why quit out of the blue? What about funding your girlfriend's recovery?"

"She's recovered," I smiled bitterly, "fully."

"That's good news," he said sincerely. "After all you've endured, she'll surely repay your kindness. Better days ahead, buddy."

"Better days?" I let out a silent, sardonic laugh.

Jessica was the one who had suggested this grueling job to share burdens. In truth, it was engineered to grind me down on Mark's behalf.

Thankfully, that chapter was closed.

I gathered my belongings and arrived at the city's most opulent hotel the next day.

In the lobby, I looked every bit the disheveled wanderer with my bags in tow.

My ragged appearance clashed with the elegant surroundings, drawing sidelong glances and whispers.

A shrill, venomous voice echoed from behind me. "Well, if it isn't our tireless delivery dynamo, Noah Lane."

Turning around, I saw Mark and his cronies standing there.

I pressed on without pause, lugging my gear deeper into the lobby, but Mark had no intention of letting me slip away.

He and his entourage encircled me, gawking as if I were a circus freak.

"Check this out." Mark theatrically pinched his nostrils, feigning offense at some imagined odor. "A grubby schmuck waltzing into Regal International? Security! What's this place coming to, letting in street scum? It's revolting!"

His cronies piled on.

"Hey, don't soil the rugs."

"Mark, remember? This guy is all principled, claiming money means nothing. Now that his gimpy girlfriend is history, he is here trolling for a rich benefactress?"

Their malicious cackles reverberated through the lobby.

Enduring their fabricated slander, I fixed Mark with a steely glare and ground my teeth. "Back off!"

Mark's expression soured. "Say that again!"

He lunged forward, shoving me with brutal strength.

Unprepared, I reeled backward, slamming into an enormous display cabinet of premium wines and spirits.