The day Jack Prescott's family went "bankrupt," he dumped me on the spot.

"My mom's house is getting auctioned. I don't want you dragged into this."

I actually bought it. Went against my family and stuck by him, slinging street food just to scrape by.

"Don't stress. I'll help you buy it back."

Three years of nonstop work—burn scars up and down my arms—and I finally scraped together a small fortune.

The day we were supposed to sign the papers, I caught him on the phone.

"Jack, you coming back?" some guy asked.

Jack flicked his cigarette, all smug. "What's the rush? I'm still milking this sad little simp. She's totally whipped. It just keeps getting funnier."

All that time, all that love? Just a joke to him.

I just stood there, frozen.

The same guy who used to whisper "Bella, you're amazing" now tossed around "sad little simp" like it was a joke.

My chest caved. The loan papers slipped from my hands and smacked the floor.

On the phone, his buddy cracked up. "Heard she's been frying food nonstop just to save cash for you?"

Jack laughed. "Yup. Arms full of burns and still smiling like a clown. Simps are too easy."

Then the guy dropped his voice. "So, she finally got the money? What now?"

"What's the rush? I'm not done messing with her yet. Way better than racing."

"Dude, you're wild. She basically lives at that joint—why's she not there today? Gave up?"

"She's off handling the loan," Jack snorted. "Down payment's locked."

The guy whistled. "So we're hitting the finale?"

Jack laughed dark. "Nah, once the house's in my name, I'll throw in some fake old tenants, stage a squat, and fake a meltdown. You guys can keep watching the trainwreck."

The other guy lost it. "You're insane! Freakin' genius!"

I staggered back, stomach twisting like I'd been punched.

So the whole bankruptcy thing? Just one big scam.

All those skipped meals, late nights counting coins, working through burn after burn—none of it even mattered to him. Not even as a joke.

Then his friend asked, low, "Jack, you really feel nothing for her?"

Jack laughed, ice-cold. "Feelings? For some cheap girl like her? Not worth it."

"But she did everything for you..."

"She's just dumb."

Click. Call ended.

I stared at the money in my account—and started laughing, tears streaming down my face.

Three years of memories hit me like a truck.

'Bella, come back. I need you.' Jack's voice still echoed in my head.

I'd burned bridges with my family just to end up a punchline.

The bank clerk glanced up. "Ma'am, are you still signing?"

"No, thanks."

I'm not buying the house.

And I'm done with Jack.

Back at the crappy rental we'd shared for three years, I packed in a daze.

My hands shook as I opened the closet—stretched-out tees, grease-stained and straight from the dollar bin.

His so-called "gifts" sat on the nightstand: plastic clips and chipped bracelets, all cheap junk.

I used to think he was just broke. Thought he was trying.

God, I was pathetic.

I cracked open a drawer. Our photos stared back—me grinning like an idiot, him barely faking interest.

The "home" I'd poured my heart into? Just a kennel he threw me in.

The clothes I bought him, the late-night meals I made—just punchlines for his dumb bar stories.

I shut the door one last time, and that greasy fryer smell in the stairwell hit me like a slap. My burn scars started to sting.

All that love I gave? Might as well have tossed it to a stray.

By the time I dragged myself back to the skewer joint, night had already fallen.

I shoved the door open.

Some guy lounged in the corner, legs crossed, that smug look already crawling across his face.

"Boss finally shows," he drawled, eyes greasy as they raked over me. "Thought I'd rot waiting."

One word and I knew—it was Jack's buddy. The one who laughed at me.

Swallowing the disgust, I tied on my apron. "What do you want?"

"Twenty spicy sausage skewers," he said, licking his lips. "You know what they say—spicy food's great for stamina. Real helpful for... nighttime cardio."

The fryer sizzled as I flipped the sausages, numb.

He leaned in, breath hot against my cheek. "Wanna guess why I picked sausage?"

I clenched the tongs, jaw tight.

He dropped his voice, grinning like a creep. "Nights like these take endurance... and I've got plans."

"Your spicy sausage is ready. Want it to-go?" I said, voice cool.

"What's the rush?" He reached for my face. "Heard you've got great hands. Came to taste something... else."

I grabbed his filthy hand and plunged it straight into the boiling oil.

"Aaagh—!!" He screamed like a stuck pig, yanking back, blisters already bubbling.

"You psycho?!" he roared, lunging at me.

The door flew open.

Jack stormed in, face like thunder. "Bella, what the heck are you doing?"

"He touched me first," I said, ice-cold.

Jack sneered, looming over me. "He was just joking, and you pull this crap?"

"Joking?" I locked eyes with him. "Want me to repeat what your buddy actually said?"

His face darkened. "Apologize."

I bit my lip, silent.

He grabbed my arm, fingers digging in. "I said get on your knees and apologize."

Then he kicked my leg out—sent me crashing to the floor.

But I looked up, calm. Smiling. "Can I just pay for it?"

I shot up, yanked a wad of cash from my bag, and slapped it straight into Jack's face. "Ten grand. That cover the hospital bill?"

The bills fluttered to the floor. Jack froze. "Bella, you—"

I chucked another stack. "Another ten. That enough to shut your creep friend up?"

Then came more—stack after stack.

Jack's buddy just stood there, clutching his scorched hand, stunned.

Jack's face shifted. "Are you insane? Fine, don't apologize, but this—this is overkill..."

"Overkill?" My voice cracked, burning with rage. "You lied to me for three years, Jack. Used me like an ATM. Made me a punchline. And THIS is what's too much?"

Jack frowned. "What are you even talking about?"

"The call," I said, eyes locked on his. "I heard everything you and your buddy said."

His face went rigid.

"Faking bankruptcy was a blast, huh?" I dumped the rest of the cash from my bag. "Watching me burn myself every night just to save money—you must've felt like a king."

The bills scattered like confetti. Jack finally started to panic. "Bella, let me explain—"

"Explain what?" I snapped. "How you two schemed to scam me into buying that house? Or the part where you were gonna plant fake old tenants?"

Jack went pale. Like dead-body pale. He hadn't seen that coming.

He reached out. "That was just drunk talk..."

I snatched up my papers and flagged down a cab.

"Bella, please, I can explain," Jack said, voice cracking—his cocky act gone.

"Did you enjoy it?" I asked. "Three years of playing me like a game?"

He grabbed my wrist, tone shifting. "I really did love you."

His eyes flickered, searching. "But we're from different worlds. Marriage? That was never real. But I can give you money—whatever you want."

I yanked my hand free. "I want my mother's ring."

Just a simple silver band. Her only keepsake.

Meant for someone who actually loved me.

Jack? He didn't come close.

He scoffed. "What's so special about that cheap thing? I'll buy you diamonds, gold—"

"Save it. I just want the ring. Give it back. And let's never see each other again. You make me sick."

Annoyance flared in his eyes. "You're being ridiculous."

He yanked the ring off his finger. "All this over a piece of junk?"

Then he tossed it.

The ring spun through the air and vanished into the dark canal with a soft plunk.

I didn't hesitate. Climbed over the railing and jumped.

The freezing water swallowed me whole as I clawed through the murky bottom, desperate.

Then—

A woman in designer heels strolled up, stopping right at the edge. A smirk tugged at her lips as she watched me flail.

"So THIS is the one you were talking about..." she said, not bothering to finish. Her look said everything.

Jack heard her laugh. His face twisted.

Without warning, he jumped in, splashing dirty water everywhere.

"Bella! Get out of there!" he yelled, grabbing my arm.