Tiffany's hand froze in mid-air. "W-What did you say?"

Just then, the apartment door was violently shoved open. Ethan stumbled in drunk with his arm around a woman, followed by a group of his buddies whistling and catcalling. He immediately spotted us frozen by the bathroom door.

Without hesitation, he walked straight to Tiffany and yanked her away from me. Then, she pulled her roughly into his embrace, resting his chin intimately against her shoulder.

"Babe, why are you hiding in a place like this? I've been looking everywhere for you."

His lips were practically brushing her earlobe as he shot me a contemptuous glance.

Only after catching my stare did she start trying to struggle free, hissing, "Ethan, stop it. This is my home!"

Ethan laughed exaggeratedly as he looked around. "Your home? Babe, you're calling this dump a home? I could have this place bulldozed tonight and build you a golden bathroom if I wanted."

He tightened his grip even more, pulling her closer while staring me down provocatively. "What's with that look? You're just a waste of space who doesn't even know who his own parents are. You should be grateful Tiffany even looked at you, yet you dare throw a tantrum?"

Another one of his friends joined in with a mocking laugh, flicking away his cigarette and grinding it under his toe. "Tiffany, let me be real with you… If you weren't so set on playing this childish game of house, we wouldn't even look at this roach motel."

I lowered my eyes, staring at the worn floor beneath my feet where the concrete showed through. The water stains on the ceiling looked like an abstract map, and the bathroom faucet that could never be fixed.

This place had once been what I thought of as home. I had earned every single thing here with my own sweat under the scorching sun, hauling bricks.

I had cared about Tiffany so much. In winter, I spent all my wages on a cheap space heater for her while I shivered in thin clothes in the freezing wind.

I once thought this small space, a poor but carefully built little nest, was the starting point of our future together.

My nails dug deep into my palms. I was waiting for Tiffany to say just one word in my defense, even just one. However, she remained silent.

Ethan seemed to lose interest and let go of Tiffany, starting to prowl around the small room. Finally, his eyes landed on the journal by the bed that I had treasured above all else.

His eyes lit up. "Well, what's this?"

It was the notebook where I recorded the memory fragments that flashed through my mind. Those scattered words, blurry faces, and fragmented scenes were my only tool for finding out who I was and where I came from.

Alarm bells went off in my head as I lunged forward. "Give it back!"

"That's quite the temper you've got there! Oh, hiding little secrets, are we?" Ethan dodged my hand playfully and casually flipped open a few pages.

Then, he read aloud in an exaggerated voice. "Golden lion crest, red carpet, crystal chandelier, white-haired old man, tuxedo…"

He laughed out loud, mocking, "Tiffany, your boy toy's something else. Does he think he's some prince living among commoners? Writing novels now?"

His friends doubled over laughing.

"You can't read that!" My eyes turned bloodshot.

Tiffany quickly grabbed me. "William, that's enough. It's just a notebook. What's the big deal if Ethan looks at it? Do you have to be so petty?"

In the chaos, my elbow knocked into Ethan, and he stumbled backward as a clear gray footprint appeared on his limited-edition white sneakers worth thousands of dollars.

Ethan's expression instantly darkened. He glared at me hard, a flash of viciousness in his eyes. Suddenly, he grabbed the half-empty soda bottle from the table, twisted off the cap, and poured every last drop onto my journal.

Ethan casually pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his Hermes wallet and threw them in my face. "Here, this covers it. That's enough to buy you a truckload of this garbage."

My teeth ground together as I raised my fist and swung it at his hateful face.

"William, are you insane?" Tiffany screamed, quickly throwing herself in front of Ethan.

She grabbed my wrist in a death grip."He already paid you back. What more do you want? You're just trying to extort more money, aren't you? Is it really worth making such a scene over some stupid notebook?"

I suddenly froze, all the strength draining from my body. In her eyes, all my pain and struggle had been reduced to extortion. Everything I had given her was apparently worthless.

I pried her fingers off my wrist one by one and calmly pulled my hand back. Then, I turned away, wanting to escape this disgusting farce.

"Stop right there!" Ethan's voice came from behind me. "I paid you for your notebook, so we're even on that. But you dirtied my shoes, so don't you owe me an explanation? These are limited edition sneakers, and they're ridiculously expensive. Since we're friends through Tiffany, I'll let the money slide."

His friend immediately chimed in. "Yeah, trying to dodge accountability? Poor people have thicker skin than brick walls."

I turned back and saw only a small smudge of dust on his shoe tip that could easily be wiped away.

I looked at Tiffany, but she just frowned at me. "Hurry up and deal with this. Stop embarrassing me."

Ethan wiggled his foot. "Just get on your knees and lick it clean. Then we'll call it even."

Tiffany's voice came out from between clenched teeth, word by word. "William, would it kill you to lower your head and apologize to my friend?"

I said nothing, just looked at her quietly.

I looked at the woman I had once loved deeply, loved for five whole years.

I watched as she personally tore my dignity to shreds and trampled it underfoot.

Tiffany seemed to sense something was different with me, and inexplicable panic filled her.

Just then, Ethan received a phone call and whispered something to Tiffany. After that, the two of them left with their group of friends.

At the doorway, she suddenly turned back and stared at me intently. It seemed as if I just opened my mouth, she would stay. However, I said nothing and asked nothing; I just turned my back to her and started sorting through my soaked journal.

Behind me, the door slammed hard.

I quietly packed my pitiful belongings as my phone screen lit up with a message from my butler, Alfred Wright.

[Sir, I've booked the flight and will be arriving at 3 p.m. tomorrow. Wait for me.]

I blocked Tiffany's number and turned off my phone.

The next afternoon, just hours before I was planning to leave, Tiffany came back. She said, "It's my birthday today. They're throwing me a party, and you have to come!"

I tried to break free, but she clung to me desperately. In the end, I let her drag me to that place.

It was a private room of an exclusive club, where neon lights bled into velvet shadows, and the air smelled of expensive liquor and decadent dreams.

When he saw me arrive, Ethan clapped his hands, and the door to the room opened as a flashily dressed, thin man walked in.

It was Marco Reyes, the floor manager from the bar where I had worked. That had been my most humiliating, degrading experience since losing my memory.

Back then, Tiffany had set her sights on an expensive necklace, and to scrape together the money, I had secretly taken a job as a bottle server at a shady bar.

A group of wealthy women had surrounded me, stuffing wads of cash into my shirt collar. The condition was that I drink an entire bottle of hard liquor.

Amid laughter and whistles, I had forced that bottle down. Then, I ran out to the back alley and vomited until my stomach bled.

Ethan leaned in with fake concern. "William, aren't you going to say hello to your old coworker?"

Obviously, he knew everything. He was the director of this public execution.

Marco walked toward me and said, "Well, well, if it isn't William! Remember me? Back when you were buying gifts for your girlfriend, you were our top earner! Especially with Ms. Natalie Terrell. She bought ten bottles of Ace of Spades in one night just for you!"

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone and played a video. "Everyone, check it out! William used to be quite the showman."

Tiffany whipped around, her nails nearly digging into my flesh. "Tell me, William! Tell me that the man in the video who let people touch him, begging so pathetically, wasn't you!"

"Why wouldn't it be me?" I met her crazed stare and spoke the cruelest truth. "Tiffany, to buy you that necklace you mentioned in passing, I didn't just serve bottles at that bar. I also…"

I paused deliberately before adding, "I did even more things you can't imagine."

"Alright… Fine… That's great…" Her voice grew colder each time.

As everyone watched in shock, she picked up that heavy bottle and used every ounce of strength to smash it down on my head. Then, she did something that no one could have anticipated.