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.

The sludge reeked—wet decay and floating trash swirling in brown-black water.

"Let go!" I thrashed, gagging as the filth hit my throat. "I have to find the ring!"

"You're gonna die over some dumb ring?" Jack shouted, yanking me toward shore.

Sharp stones tore at my knees, but I kept digging through the muck, refusing to quit.

Up on the bank, the woman crossed her arms, smirking. "Jack, really? You jumped into this sewage pit for HER?"

Jack's face twisted.

He dragged me out and slapped me, hard. "Can you stop humiliating yourself?!"

I collapsed onto the muddy bank, soaked and shaking, hair dripping filth.

My fingers were empty.

The ring—gone for good.

"Bella..." Jack's voice softened. He crouched beside me, reaching out. "Stop. I'll get you a new one, okay? Diamonds, gold—whatever you want."

I looked at him—his designer shirt stained yellow, his pricey watch full of sludge.

But his eyes? No guilt. Just annoyance dressed up as pity.

"Jack," I rasped, "you'll never get it. Some things money can't buy."

I stood there, drenched, freezing water sliding down my skin.

The woman strutted closer, heels clicking, lip curled. "Jack, THIS is who you've been with for three years?"

And just like that, a memory hit—three years back, pouring rain.

Jack stood outside my skewer joint, drenched, holding a vanilla latte.

"You said you liked this flavor. I went to every store to find it," he'd said, eyes shining.

That same Jack now looked at me like I was dirt.

"Jack..." My voice shook. "Was all of that fake?"

The woman laughed, sharp and smug. "Don't tell me you actually said 'I love you' to her?"

She tilted her head, eyes raking me. "A street food seller? Seriously?"

Jack's face went stone. He suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Bella, that's enough."

He dropped his voice. "Stop making a scene."

I stared at him—same face, but it felt like looking at a stranger.

Last winter flashed in my head. I was burning with a 102 fever, still opened the joint.

He'd looked wrecked. "What if something happened to you?"

Now his grip just hurt.

The boy who once cried over me? He never existed.

"Do you remember..." I choked, "you said you'd give me a home?"

The woman snorted. "A home? Jack, don't tell me you actually showed her the one you called your 'wedding house'?"

Jack froze.

A sharp stab hit my chest.

Even that was part of the act?

"He said once we got the house back, we'd get married."

When he pointed and said, 'This is where the crib goes'—was he laughing inside the whole time?

"Bella," Jack said gently, reaching to wipe my face, "I meant every promise, but—"

"But what?" I pulled back. "You couldn't give me status, just cash?"

Jack yanked at his tie, irritated. "Bella, that's not how the world works."

And that's when it hit—deep, sharp, gut-level.

All those home-cooked meals, the vitamins I bought instead of my own meds?

Meant nothing. Less than nothing.

I turned to leave.

The woman called out, "Wait."

She pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it at my feet. "For your ring."

The bills landed in the filthy water.

I bent down, picked them up one by one, and hurled them in her face.

"I don't want your dirty money."

Then I turned and walked toward the road.

Jack's voice exploded behind me. "Bella! Don't you dare walk away!"

I didn't flinch. Just kept walking.

Straight to the airport.

What Jack didn't know?

I'm the heiress of the Beaumont family—the powerhouse behind Beaumont Group.

He faked being broke to screw with me?

Fine.

I'll show him what it means to go really bankrupt.